‘… the fantastic uses imagined other worlds and practices to make sense of experience in the broadest sense of the word’ (2019, pp. 12–13). Discuss this idea in relation to two of the set texts: Stardust, The Dispossessed and The Tempest.
The nightingale
Tells his fairytale
Of paradise, where roses grew
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
My stardust melody
The memory of love’s refrain.
(Stardust, Hoagy Carmichael)
In this essay I shall be looking at Stardust and The Dispossessed in the light of this quotation. First, I will examine the quotation in order to make sense of it. My sense of Stardust is that it falls within the tradition of the Victorian fairy tale, even though it is not specifically labelled as a fairy tale. Gaiman labels it: ‘Being a Romance Within the Realms of Faerie’. Although the book is deeply rooted in the realm of fantasy, there are aspects of ‘the quest’, as in Gawain and the Green Knight, along with some indications of being a utopia. So perhaps it would be better to call it ‘a quest for a utopia’. It is clear that Tristran Thorn’s travels with the fallen Star, Yvaine, through Faerie, along with their choice to marry and continue their travels, qualify the story as a fairy tale. The combination of image and text makes Stardust a curious hybrid of the Victorian and modern comic/illustrated story. I find it harder to locate The Dispossessed in a particular genre. Although it is supposedly science fiction, in so far as it is set in other worlds, but in practice it reads more like a work of political theory, exploring political ideas such as anarchism, socialism and capitalism. In that sense it has aspects of fantasy and realism. Le Guin ranges widely in the topics she addresses in this novel, but I will restrict myself to discussing the utopian, albeit flawed, aspects of the novel, which introduces us to the anarchist socialism of Anarres set against the rampant capitalism of Urras. Each of the worlds in Stardust and The Dispossessed have walls, and these can operate as barriers to passage in ways that reflect how walls can operate in ‘our’ world also. One of the reasons for selecting these two very different novels was the common motif of walls that they share and the interesting practices of ‘crossing boundaries’.
The quotation itself seems to be encouraging us to make comparisons between the fantastic and the realist. However, is there such a sharp distinction between the two? Yes indeed, most of the time the fantastic seems to use an imagined other world, and certain practices to guide us in making sense of our experiences. But there are writers who use fantastic other worlds, and their practices, in more creative ways, not to help us understand experience, but simply for the joy of telling the story. So, it may not always be the case that the fantastic, when in use in fiction, facilitates understanding in the sense articulated in the quotation. Having said that, I would argue that science fiction comes close to being more helpful than pure fantasy. While science fiction is more often than not set on other worlds the writers are generally exploring ideas that affect the human condition, such as political theories, technological speculations, ideas about where science might be taking us, to name but a few. This does lead us to question experience itself, and whether or not the version presented to us is a simple or much more complex one. In fact, it is widely accepted that literature encourages us to ‘broaden our horizons’ by presenting us with a world, or worlds, from differing perspectives, and letting us access experiences of the other, whether that be through the genre of fantasy or realism. The aim of this essay is to explore in more detail how some works of fantasy may assist us in this search for meaning.
Turning to Stardust, we need to start by identifying the concept of ‘fairy tale’. But therein lies the problem of the many and varied definitions of the fairy tale. I prefer not to think of the fairy tale from the point of view of pure fantasy, as Nicola Watson puts it
The fairy tale typically incorporates an element of the fantastic, that is to say, happenings beyond realistic possibility, although fairies themselves are not an essential component. (2019, p22)
This applies nicely to Tristran Thorn’s quest for the fallen star, and thereafter to Tristran and Yvaine’s continuing journeys through Faerie, and their eventual choice to marry. Fairy tales are not restricted as to audience, children or adults. Some tales are suitable for one or the other but not both. With Stardust, Gaiman and Vess circumvent this problem by making their tale suitable for both readerships.
Stardust crosses many boundaries. Although a tale set in the world of Faerie, the combination of text and imagery brings it into the realm of the comic book, and also makes it reminiscent of the Victorian illustrated fairy tale. It immediately establishes itself as a fairy tale with the framed and illustrated representation of John Donne’s poem ‘A Song’, which enumerates supernatural elements, as well as belittling female loyalty. Gaiman immediately takes us into what might be seen as a traditional fairy story with his opening line
There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire.
(Gaiman p.6)
Tristran’s quest begins and, more or less, ends with what could be argued to be the main element of the tale, the wall. The wall is both a physical and psychological barrier for those in habitants of Wall, and even though it is guarded, no local has the inclination to pass through it. The counterfactual is also seen to be true, as we see when Tristran returns and is not allowed back through the wall. No one has ever come through from the realms of Faerie so it can’t be allowed. This gives the impression that psychological barriers appear to be much stronger than physical ones.
Gaiman presents us with a rich array of characters: people transformed into animals and back again, sentient trees, witches, a unicorn etc. etc., leaving us in no doubt that we have entered the fantastic world of Faerie and the fairy tale. However, Stardust does not quite fit the genre of the classic fairy tale in the sense of those compact stories written by the likes of the Brothers Grimm, as it is a longer and more complex story with an almost hyper-dimensional existence, and the authorship is not ambiguous, as was the case with many of the stories presented by the likes of Charles Perrault. Gaiman and Vess show us the way in which the illustrated novel can tell us the story in different ways. It is as if they are taking the fantastic, the unreal, and showing us just how they can be made that little bit more real. What do we learn about ‘Telling Stories:’, Stardust confirms that there are many ways in which the story can be told, even enhanced, and here it is done with the excellent use of images complementing the text.
One very good example of enabling us to interrogate imaginary things is Tristran’s encounter with the tree, and the accompanying images (Gaiman pp. 128-9) in which we are shown Tristran both asleep and paying attention to the tree. The tree has listened to his tale (of woe?) and has agreed to help him, but only because he had unchained the star
If you had kept her chained, and then she escaped her chains, then there is no power on earth or sky could ever make me help you, not if the Great Pan or Lady Sylvia were to plead or implore me. But you unchained her, and for that I will help you.
(Gaiman pp.132)
The story raises many complex gender-related issues and the encounter with the tree shows us something about the power lying within relationships. There is a moral here: if Tristran had not released Yvaine of his own free will he would never had found her again, or if he had, it would have been too late. Here we have reflections of abusive relationships, where the abused thinks the abuser loves them, but the abuser has the power, employing an ideology of control. This is quite a lot of ‘reality thinking’ inspired by a talking tree. Therefore, it does seem that the reward of an interrogation of the fantastic, of the imaginary, is that our understanding of real-world issues and/or experience can be enhanced. Gaiman with his words, and Vess with his imagery, turn the spotlight upon real world issues to make us think about them in a more coherent manner.
The Dispossessed appears to combine elements of four different literary genres. The utopia, pulp science fiction, the Bildungsroman(1) and the quest. Seen as a utopia the novel seems to contain the basic requirements, in that it represents Anarres as exhibiting the ideal society with its anarchist values. Anarresti values of mutual aid, gender equality, and selflessness/solidarity are portrayed in direct contrast to the more capitalist/selfish society of Urras. The amalgamation of scientific fact, prophetic vision, the brilliant scientist (Shevek), and technological innovation (the ansible), is also very redolent of pulp science fiction. That Shevek’s life is traced from childhood through adolescence to adulthood and ultimate self-knowledge fulfils all of the requirements of the Bildungsroman. Shevek decides to undertake his ‘quest’ to the unfamiliar world of Urras in the search for the scientific knowledge that would allow him to complete his life’s work, his General Temporal Theory, thus enabling the construction of the ansible contributing to the advancement of the universe.
One of the defining elements of The Dispossessed, as with Stardust, is walls, in symbolic, physical and psychological forms. For Shevek and the Anarresti
walls therefore have overwhelmingly negative associations: they block individual agency and initiative; they frustrate the advance of scientific knowledge; they stand for the bureaucratic centralism embodied by Sabul and are directly at odds with anarchist dreams of freedom; they serve selfish interests as opposed to mutual aid; and they constrain independent thought in art, music and science (2019, pp. 232-3)
Whilst walls are functional, their functions are open to debate whether they are for our safety, our exclusion, or restrictions of our freedom.
Like all walls it was ambiguous, two-faced. What was inside it and what was outside it depended upon which side of it you were on. (Le Guin p.1)
For the Urrasti, walls fulfil a very different, but in some ways similar, function, they are to distance the elite from the more distasteful realities: the anarchist/Odonian challenges to the political system of A-Io, the exploitation of the labour producing the wealth of consumer goods for them, alongside the impoverishment of the oppressed majority of the population.
The Dispossessed deals with some labyrinthine philosophical and political issues, gender, power and its abuse etc. The scope extends far beyond the confines of this essay. I could also argue, for example, that Shevek’s journey from Anarres to Urras is a reverse quest, even a dystopia, as he travels from a utopia, albeit a flawed one, to an anti-utopia. He is searching for scientific knowledge and freedom in the light of the abuse of power, and the betrayal of Odonian principles, by Sabul. The Anarresti establishment, and in particular Sabul, seek to restrict his scientific explorations, ensuring that his only option to develop his theories and to make the breakthroughs that will deliver collective benefits, is to leave his society. However, he eventually discovers that there is a similar abuse of power, along with many other problems, to be encountered on Urras. His puzzlement at there being no female scientists is met with the remark
“Scientists. Oh, yes, certainly, they’re all men. There are some female teachers in the girls’ schools, of course. But they never get past Certificate level.” “Why not?” “Can’t do the maths; no head for abstract thought; don’t belong. You know how it is, what women call thinking is done with the uterus! Of course, there’s always a few exceptions, God-awful brainy women with vaginal atrophy.” (Le Guin p. 63)
He quickly comes to the conclusion that Urras is no Anarres, and that it comprises three main societies, Benbili, poor, oppressed and fighting for freedom, Thu, centralised and authoritarian, and A-Io, highly consumerist and competitive with an elite protected by a violent police force keeping the masses in their place. After some decisions in line with his anarchist principles, Shevek has no choice but to return to Anarres not knowing, and we are not told, what sort of reception he is going to receive.
In some ways The Dispossessed helps us to make sense of the society/ies in which we exist. There do appear to be elements of subversion in Le Guin’s representation of the Anarresti utopia of anarchist socialism, even though it transpires to be a flawed utopia. Le Guin presents us with examples of how easily the Anarresti principles of mutual benefit are betrayed, particularly by Sabul who would rather take the work of others and put his name to it. Her anarchist socialism subversion does encourage us to think about our experience of the modern world in which we live, a consumerist, capitalist one very much like her presentation of Urras. The similarities between our world and Urras are quite striking, especially when we are presented with a dominant greedy and misogynistic elite who exist solely for their own selfish ends. Are we that much different from the Urrasti?
Thinking about the starting quotation, which asks us how literature, whether fantastic or realist, helps us to make sense of experience raises the counterfactual of how experience helps the author make sense of the story she/he is writing in whichever chosen genre. Although being encouraged to think about ‘Telling the Story’, I have begun to think somewhat beyond that, and to think about the story in a more holistic way. It is said that words have power, in which case the story has the ability to transmit their power to any given society. Stories, particularly fairy tales, seem to be structured into societies, into their social order, with the capability to define the sphere of societal change whether that be socio-economic, political or cultural change. After all, experience informs us that resistance and change often come to fruition through the medium of art. Stories are the medium through which our understanding of the world, and how we live in it, are developed, they help us make sense not only of ourselves, but also of the environment which surrounds us. Stories are not just outside of us, something we read or listen to, they are something that make sense for us, of us, because of our relationship to them. We are, and have been, in them ourselves.
What Gaiman shows us with his text, and Vess with his imagery, is that it is perfectly possible for two very different worlds to exist side by side without conflict. Yes, there is conflict within each world, but seemingly not between the two which only coincide and overlap every few years to mutual benefit. Maybe the message here is that, when it comes to our ‘experience’, we should be able, and prepared, to live closely and comfortably with our neighbours, and that conflict of any kind is unnecessary. Stardust does seem to have strong messages within it, just like any fairy tale from the past, about racism, misogyny, gender, equality, and the ‘ethical pathway’. etc. etc.. Of course, these messages are to be widely found in much more ‘serious’ literature, but does such literature really succeed in putting its point across to everyone? Just as humour is a very good way to get a message across, to make a point, perhaps fantasy also fulfils the same function of bringing ‘the message’ to a wider audience and making society think. Maybe it is the function of literature to suggest an alternative to our thinking, to make us question the ubiquitousness and necessity of our societal institutions, to expand our thoughts of possibilities of moral understanding.
Le Guin in The Dispossessed presents us with similar messages to Gaiman, but in a very different way. Yes, the novel is set on other worlds, but those worlds are not so different from the one on which we live. We are presented on the one hand with Anarres, an ambiguous/flawed utopia, and on the other with Urras, a world very much like our own, capitalist, greedy, elitist. Le Guin shows us Anarres as a world of cooperation and equality where no one wants for the basics of life, and all work for a common mutual benefit. Of course, even in this sort of world there with always be those, like Sabul, who hunger for power over others, working to their own exclusive agenda. We are presented with a political theory, anarchist socialism, which in some ways has much to be praised. She also holds a mirror up to our own world, in the form of Urras, showing us much of what is wrong with capitalist thinking, and how it engenders racist thinking, misogyny, violence, inequality etc. etc.. The novel brings the complexities and ambiguities of the different political theory of the Anarresti into sharp focus but showing us it can work if the flaws are ironed out. It also shows us in the form of Urrasti society that our societal model is broken, and no longer fit to benefit the majority of the world population.
So, do ‘imagined other worlds and practices’ help us make sense of experience? I would ask if literature really needs to use other worlds rather than using experience of our world as a method. The argument in favour of that proposition would be that we live in our world and understand it as best we can, so by setting the story outside of our understanding it makes us think about the messages being presented to us. That must be a good thing, especially if it holds a mirror to the problems of our world, and requires us to wonder if there might be solutions to our societal problems. Both Le Guin and Gaiman do this effectively, even though in very different ways, Gaiman with pure fantasy and Le Guin through a complex mix of science fiction and political reflection. Long before the written word was used for storytelling, wandering minstrels visited communities and told their stories, using the power of the spoken word to deliver a message that, hopefully, changed people’s minds. Inevitably their stories changed slightly with each telling, as is the nature of the oral tradition. Interestingly the recording of the stories with the written word does not seem to have changed this very much. If we look at written down stories it quickly becomes apparent that there is not just the one version of any given fairy tale, but many different versions. Therefore, can we ‘make sense of experience’ through the medium of literature? The answer to that question must be ‘yes, we can’, but that it should not stop with just ‘making sense’. Rather, it should also prompt us towards making societal change.
Bibliography
Danson Brown R. (2019) (ed), The fantastic (A233 Book 2), Milton Keynes, The Open University.
Gaiman, N. and Vess, C. (2019) Stardust: being a romance within the realms of Faerie. Burbank, Calif.: DC Comics.
Le Guin, U.K. (2002) The Dispossessed. London: Gollancz. SF Masterworks.
1 In literary criticism, a Bildungsroman is a literary genre that focuses on the psychological and moral growth of the protagonist from childhood to adulthood (coming of age), in which character change is important.
Thoughts of Gittus Miserabilis 