The Dispossessed is an ineffable and mind-provoking read. It explores a wealth of ideas and their vast depth. Le Guin understood the underlying of society and civilization, as well as people and their relationship with the world. This book is like a search for an ideal society, a Utopia. It shows the complexity, ideals, and flaws of different socio-economic and political structures. It makes us observe and analyze two different civilizations on two different planets, one capitalist and the other anarchist socialist. The book is more philosophical than science fiction. It talks about individuality, freedom, choices, responsibility, social-conscience, personal values, and more. It dives into the relationships between different aspects of life. Le Guin makes us uncomfortable to make us reflect and think. Shevek, the main protagonist, is a brilliant physicist who wants to unbuild walls and connect. His character is vivid and complex. The story ends on a hopeful note, with Shevek realizing that there is no end, only process.

The writer shows us how a concept can turn into its opposite when taken to an extreme. Shevek represents many things in the book, such as the hope of coexistence between opposites. His quest to find the answer to the relationship of time is a symbol of his people's history. His journey and development represent the past, present, and future. The execution of his character is amazing. He is eccentric, intellectual, honest, open, questioning, courageous, shy, thoughtful, and idealistic. He always learns and keeps his integrity, naivety, and authentic conscience. The story ends with Shevek realizing that he was part of the moment, not the other way around. He also realizes that he was demanding a security that would become a prison. The book makes us question everything and think about the meaning of life.

When I first embarked on this novel, a hint of worry clouded my mind. The prose initially struck me as rather clunky, making it a struggle for me to fully immerse myself in the story. However, after reading just a few pages, everything underwent a remarkable transformation. Either I managed to adapt to the author's unique writing style, or perhaps the writing itself simply smoothed out. If you happen to encounter a similar experience, I urge you to persevere. Trust me, it is truly well worth sticking with this book.

I've noticed that some reviewers perceive "The Dispossessed" as an anti-Ayn Rand book. But I didn't get that impression at all. In my view, LeGuin did an outstanding job of highlighting the fallacies inherent in both capitalism and socialism. The reason any system fails is invariably because humans are, well, human. Bureaucracy, the consolidation of power, judgment, and inequality inevitably start to insinuate themselves into the social fabric, regardless of the original intent of the society.

The main character, Shevek, speaks about his home planet Anarres, a society built on a socialist framework. His words are quite profound. He emphasizes that they didn't come to Anarres for safety but for freedom. If everyone must conform and work together blindly, they are no better than a machine. The individual has a duty and a right to work alone if they can't do so in solidarity with others. We've been denying people this right, increasingly insisting that they must follow the rule of the majority. But any rule, he argues, can become tyranny. The individual's duty is to accept no rule, be the initiator of their own acts, and take responsibility. Only then will society be able to live, change, adapt, and survive.

This book really made me reflect on my place in the universe and on the aspects of my culture that I've always accepted as absolute truths. But upon further examination, I realized that many of these so-called truths are actually the result of our own conditioning. Too many of the governing elements in our lives that we take for granted have never truly been questioned or weighed in our own minds.

For example, why do so many of us now work for others when just a generation ago, many owned their own businesses? Walmart, among others, has had a significant negative impact on communities, decimating once-thriving downtown areas and forcing countless small businesses to shut down, thereby changing the very identity of small towns. We are complicit in this destruction. We prioritized cheap goods and convenience over service and diversity. The current capitalist trend leans towards big corporations, and I can only hope that eventually, the things we've lost will once again become the things we most desire.

Okay, I must apologize for going on a tangent about topics that might seem unrelated to "The Dispossessed." But this novel is all about ideas. And no matter how superficially you engage with it, you will inevitably find yourself thinking about things you've never really considered before.

One of the things that always springs to my mind when reading this novel (yes, I’ve perused it several times) is this sensation that while Anarres does signify something that seems like a utopian future, it’s a utopia/dystopia of a distinct kind, one that feels the closest to a future that might work for everyone.

Anarres is a diminutive moon, colonized by humans from the planet Urras. For countless centuries, Urra’s government catered solely to the wealthy. And the wealthy despised the poor. By ensuring that the masses received only the bare minimum of education and state support, the wealthy safeguarded that no one born in poverty could break free from it. If this sounds eerily similar to the world today, it’s no accident. With academic anthropologists Alfred and Theodora Kroeber as parents and J. Robert Oppenheimer as a close family friend, Le Guin had a lucid understanding of how society operates and what the near future would morph into as fewer individuals came to possess the majority of the wealth. Moreover, as the outstanding science fiction writer she was, she not only predicted the car but also the traffic jam.

Anyhow, in this world of Urras, public health services had been eradicated, so those who couldn’t afford private care were crammed into filthy hospitals where they went to meet their demise, and any protests were quelled with brutal force. That is, until the inescapable inequality incited an anger that couldn’t be suppressed. So, little more than a century before the story commences, there’s a massive revolution. Many are slain, but the people persist in marching and fighting. Instead of continuing to kill them or risking being killed by them, the oppressors offer the revolutionaries an option: to establish their own ideal society on one of Urras’s orbiting moons.

That moon is Anarres, where the idealists erect an anarchistic society founded on the principles of shared wealth, shared responsibility, and shared lives. Superficially, the society functions. But by the time we are plunged into the story, things have become stagnant. The revolution is in the past. There’s no government, but other institutions fulfill similar roles, and within them, new ideas are scorned, even feared, and self-interested individuals have begun to hoard power. In this new society, knowledge is the highest currency, and new, significant, evolving knowledge is all the more perilous for those who remain in power by presenting themselves as all-knowing (who, not surprisingly, seem to be theoretical physicists). So once again, discontent is simmering.

Among the discontented is Shevek, a brilliant young physicist, who discovers his work blocked by a jealous superior, as his theories conflict with the prevailing political philosophy and are thus disruptive. Nevertheless, it is precisely because of such theories that Shevek is granted permission to travel from Anarres to Urras. As anticipated, Shevek has become disillusioned with the anarchists of Anarres, and such emotions serve to accentuate his even more intense disillusionment with the government (and scientists) of Urras, who wish to monopolize his theory for its economic value.

Knowing Le Guin’s conviction in writing serving multiple purposes, the way in which she structured her book—with chapters alternating between the two planets and between past and future—must be significant. And it is, because as Shevek's major physics breakthrough, the "theory of simultaneity,"把玩着时间、开端与结局的概念，以及过去与现在同时发生的观念，这本书的结构变得意义非凡，不断提醒着人们这一理论，进而也提醒着人们认识到它的重要性。

Similarly, Shevek's journey has a gratifying circularity, from Anarres to Urras and back. And there’s intellectual substance in Le Guin's portrayal of how, given the right conditions, an anarchist society might function and malfunction. And it all occurs while we metaphorically race towards a fast-paced climax that is difficult to envision but extremely satisfying.

Nonetheless, what draws me back to this book time and again is this sense of reality cloaked in possibility. All these very real characters, living very real lives, suffering, loving, laughing, missing, and encountering each other within a world that is not real but that feels as real as the world around us. No doubt this remains a challenging and urgent book, and a good reminder of the interplay between human nature and power. And let’s not forget that this is all exquisitely written, in a prose that flows and is engaging, and where each word has earned its place.

Now, anybody who knows me knows I’m a huge fan of Ursula K. Le Guin. That’s no secret. But don’t let my fangirl-ism deceive you, because whatever positive thing I said about this book is well-deserved, and you should read it. In fact, you should read all of Le Guin's works, her books, her essays, her poetry, and her short stories.

More than two months have passed since I closed this book. Usually, my habit is to immediately rush to the laptop after reading the last line and share my thoughts in an original way. But this time, I felt the need to truly let Le Guin's words soak into my mind and make them my own. (Well, actually, I've just been lazy in the reviewing department lately, but "letting words sink in" sounds better.) When it comes to making words my own, as this dear author so well evoked in the book, longing for possession is mostly futile, and the same goes for ideas, impressions, and especially inspiration. At least for me, good ideas come and go as they please, and if I'm lucky, I can catch them when there's something nearby to write them down, just as the motivation and energy to write quickly pass through my hands. Currently, the energy is there, but apart from some scattered notes that I now have to reinterpret myself, I only have a few central takeaways that I want to share. This review can thus be seen as a collection of some of the reflections I managed to retain before they evaporated into untranslatable little thoughts.

The first takeaway is that this is one of my favorite books. It's engaging, exciting, educational, and entertaining. Le Guin's prose is wonderful. Although the plot isn't exactly extraordinary, it provides the perfect vehicle to convey some important messages about life and civilization that the author has chosen to share.

The second takeaway is that this is the best dissection of our society that I've read. I've read great books about the nature of human individuals and abstract philosophical musings about time and infinity, but I never felt interested in reading about the level in between, namely society and civilization. The reason is that there often seems to be so much more wrong with society than right, making it hard to know where to start complaining and even harder to know where to stop complaining and inspire change. The building shows so many signs of decay that it's hard to get rid of the idea of just tearing it down and starting over.

Ursula Le Guin found a great starting point in this book to make a nice analysis of our civilization: the idea of possession. The need for people to "own" is central to our way of life, and the illusion of ownership pervades much of our thinking and doing. I myself am not immune. For example, I prefer to buy books rather than borrow them from libraries. Another example: I just bought an apartment. Now, it wouldn't be fair to just point the finger at people here. Animals do it too, on a certain level. They want to own territory, but instead of throwing money around, they urinate all over the place or emit certain smells. For all the faults of our society, I'm glad we've evolved away from that particular habit, if only for the sake of still-readable books.

Do I own these books because I paid for them and they will soon be surrounded by my walls? I guess so. Until a fire or a flood consumes them, until the hand of time consumes me. Yet, even though the banality of ownership in our short lives is inescapable, our ways of living are so focused on this futility that it's no surprise that so many people feel unhappy and wronged when they see their mission to that end either blocked or sabotaged by those around them, or when they recognize their efforts as futile once the mission seems largely fulfilled.

This is just a personal takeaway, of course, because if Ursuala Le Guin is doing one thing exceptionally well, it's the convincing way in which she gives each perspective on the matter a platform in this book. I can easily see the staunchest proponents of capitalism (and as someone who benefits from that system's fruits, it would be hypocritical and outright dishonest of me to claim that I dislike it myself) liking this book as much as a dirty hippy or a clean-shaven commie.

Possession isn't just about capitalism and material goods. It's more widespread than that. Just think about how people refer to each other. "My" son. "My" girlfriend. "My" mother. Or how Jason Mraz chose to sing of his undying love by proclaiming "I'm yours". Most of the time it's innocent, but when there are problems in any kind of relationship, quite often it's a question of a certain dominance, where one is under the other, where one is partly of the other. We like to own but we don't like to be owned. Except for Jason Mraz, that is.

While writing this review, I was faced with another example of the futility of possession. I had made notes while reading this book that I intended to use to inspire this review. There are some interesting one-liners, some runaway thoughts, some links to real-life experiences. I would call them "my" notes. But what the two-month gap between writing them and reading them has shown is that even my thoughts are not entirely my own. Some lines I wrote down are now completely incomprehensible to me. Others I can give an interpretation, but without the guarantee that it will be the same as what I intended back then. How are these alien words still my notes?

"The Dispossessed" touches on many more themes than the one I mentioned here, and Le Guin shows her genius on almost every page with throwaway wisdoms that pack a punch: on prisons, on the education system, on laws, on the press, on the world of art, the army, the list goes on. She can seem cold and pessimistic sometimes: "Life is a fight, and the strongest wins. All civilization does is hide the blood and cover up the hate with pretty words." or when she states that suffering, unlike love, is real because the former ALWAYS hits the mark. Despite this recurring pessimism, I found this book to be widely uplifting by looking through that veil of coldness and finding the beauty of life, of all the things that transcend possession. Her criticism has an inherent warmth and is not above criticism itself. It's a criticism that has channeled my own apathy towards many of society's ways into something more helpful: an understanding and even a renewed love. Yes, you read that right. I love society. There's nothing I'd rather live right next to.

One of the best works I have read from Le Guin.

The narrative structure of this piece is still somewhat off, which means it may not be an exceptionally good story in the traditional sense.

However, when it comes to its role as intellectual political commentary, it is truly amazing.

Le Guin has managed to weave a complex web of ideas and perspectives that offer deep insights into the political and social landscapes.

The story forces the reader to question their own beliefs and assumptions, and to consider alternative viewpoints.

It is this ability to engage the reader on an intellectual level that makes this work stand out.

Despite its flaws in the narrative structure, the power of the political commentary shines through, making it a must-read for anyone interested in exploring the intersection of literature and politics.

Ufffff qué librazo.

This expression seems to convey a sense of surprise or amazement. It might be used when someone encounters something unexpectedly large, heavy, or significant.

Perhaps it could refer to a big book that one has just picked up, a heavy object that one has to carry, or an important event or task that lies ahead.

The word "librazo" itself implies something of considerable size or weight. It could also suggest a challenge or a burden.

Overall, "Ufffff qué librazo" is a vivid and expressive way to describe a situation that makes one feel a bit overwhelmed or astonished. It adds a touch of drama and emphasis to the description.

Whether it's used in a literal or figurative sense, this phrase can effectively convey the speaker's reaction to something that stands out or makes an impact.

So, the next time you come across something that takes your breath away or leaves you feeling a bit daunted, you might just find yourself exclaiming, "Ufffff qué librazo!"

The first time I read this book in the early nineties, I was initially inclined to give it a four-star rating. The prose and the somewhat boring pace, where not much really significant happened (mostly just the ordinary living of a life), slightly annoyed me. This was despite following an interesting character who escaped his pragmatic moon to gift advanced physics that could lead to faster-than-light communications and travel.

However, the world-building in this novel is truly amazing on both political and socio-economic levels. The discussions about the relationship between men and women and how different (yet similar) it is between the two worlds are thought-provoking. The novel effortlessly tackles six different heavy themes with heart and without being overly forceful.

On one hand, I understand that the author couldn't have delved into every aspect of the two worlds without a light touch. But it was this same light touch and the frustrating lack of progress, as well as the descent of the utopian sense into a desperate and dire dystopia, that eventually made me distrust the novel.

Frankly, it took me two hundred pages to get into the novel the first time. It has a learning curve.

Now, as a full adult with many ideas, I found it much easier to ease into the read. I expected certain things and realized that it was primarily a novel of ideas and deep commentary. It's not just a political mirror or a comparison between true communist idealism and anarchism. It's also a unique exploration of sexuality and how it necessitates certain kinds of thinking, how a social structure influences it, and how it can hinder the germination of ideas.

I'm referring to the concept of two halves making a whole. Men and women are just part of it. The two political systems of the moon and the planet aren't complete until they find a balance. It's like Taoism, a mix of opposites and equals creating something greater than the sum of its parts.

What's tragic about this novel is the distrust, the aversion to new thought, and the nearly insurmountable wall between the sexes (although the exception with the Dispossessed scientist is notable). If people were more open to new ideas, much of this could have been avoided.

When I first read this book, I was in college and saw many of the same restrictions and stifled thought in the academic world. The Dispossessed highlights the plight of science, the fact that certain ideas become deeply ingrained and new ones are often mercilessly suppressed until a new generation takes over.

It all comes back to the germination of ideas. The call in the text to keep the flow of information going was truly breathtaking, even if not entirely unique. I think of the internet and how it has benefited science, but even in 1992 when I read this, the weight of bureaucracy was heavy. I'm sure things haven't changed much. Aren't we still fixated on string theory and colliders, and aren't we all disappointed that it hasn't worked out as we hoped? Well, this isn't the place to discuss that, but this book makes many good points.

I tend to ramble.

The fact is, I'm increasing my rating of this book because it is conceptually and formally beautiful. It weaves multiple narratives about various aspects of our lives today and within the fictional political systems that exist only in our minds. The author even conceives a world without cause and effect, where all things can be explored simultaneously. How often can we have a coherent discussion about that, firmly rooted in the events of normal lives, without the text devolving into handwavium and strange science? She keeps things real and brilliant.

I'm going to overlook my stylistic complaints and the fact that it took me so long to get into the book because the overall journey is truly impressive. It's more of a monument to thought.

Wow.

I had this worry that perhaps this book was overly hyped and that people were just going wild about it in a performative way, simply to fit in with the crowd and not to rain on someone else's parade.

But nope. It truly is worthy of all the hype. It's unbelievably worthy. It's an intense read, that's for sure - not something that can be easily devoured in one sitting, but definitely very much worth the time and effort it takes to fully absorb.

It's as if Le Guin has delved deep into my consciousness and crafted all of my thoughts regarding anarchy, communism, and capitalism into beautiful, thought-provoking prose.

The collective society of Anarres seems so alluring, and the individualism of Urras is so attractive. However, Le Guin masterfully pits them against each other, highlighting and demonstrating the inherent strengths and weaknesses of each political ideology. It never comes across as preachy or overly critical. Writing about such weighty topics often runs the risk of making things seem clinical, but Le Guin never allows it to reach that point. She always presents ideas within an active context, enabling the reader to witness it all in action.

I really enjoyed the gradual unfolding of the plot and Shevek's purpose. The intertwined stories on Anarres and Urras were极其令人满意 - I never felt impatient for the narrative to return to either thread, being entirely content to just let it all play out in its own good time. The characters felt so real and complex. My only criticism is that the dialogue between the Odonians sometimes seemed a little too complex to resonate as a natural conversation. But then I would remember that the anarchists I know in real life actually do speak like that.

I have a headache from reading too much, too quickly. But still. Wow. I can't wait to read more of Le Guin's work.

4.25

The book tells two different worlds; Anarres and Urras. The two planets are the antithesis of each other. The Odoculars, who came to Anarres from Urras years ago, have established a very different life for themselves here than on Urras.

The way to see how beautiful life is passes through looking at it from the perspective of death.

Anarres is a planet that bears the traces of socialism where anarchy has been put into practice, and the way of life of the people is also pragmatic. Everything is as much as it should be and as it must be, so there is no luxury or excess. Everyone is equal, everyone is free. Urras, on the other hand, is the complete opposite, a planet where capitalism reigns, a reflection of our world.

- "Do you think who is lying to us?"
- "Who, my brother? Who else can it be but ourselves?"

There is also a physicist named Shevek and his ideals between these two worlds. We get to know both worlds from Shevek's eyes. Imagine how the capitalist system looks from the eyes of Shevek, who is from Anarres and values a person only because he is a human! The author's use of flashbacks in the book was very clever. This not only added a special flavor to the book but also pulled you into the book more.

The book was written in 1974 and the author has really come up with a very beautiful work. Even if I don't share the author's view on anarchy, I learned a lot from the book and I have read a person from Ursula Guin's eyes once. Many details in the book are very clever and you can actually see this as you read it. There is definitely a side of the book that is worth reading a second time. I'm sure there are many details in the book that I missed when I read it.

In the eyes, you also see the glory, the glory of the human soul. Because our men and women are free, they are free because they own nothing.

Finally, without a doubt, the most impressive part of the book for me was the distinction between the owners and the free. We are all owners who think we are free but are slaves to the things we think we own. Unfortunately, property brings not freedom but slavery. Wishing us all to be able to free ourselves from all the unnecessary things that enslave us and be free, stay healthy, book friends.

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Although The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia is classified as science fiction, it is far from a typical tale of aliens and space travel.

Rather, it is a thought-provoking work that delves into the concept and limitations of a completely anarchist society.

The novel centers around the planet Anarres, inhabited by a community of anarchists who left their sister planet Urras nearly 200 years ago to escape oppression and establish a new society based on freedom, brotherhood, and anarchy.

At first glance, Anarres appears to be a utopia. There are no laws, and citizens enjoy total freedom in all aspects of life, including sexual freedom, freedom of occupation, and the freedom to pursue their interests.

All property is communal, and children are raised in dormitories by volunteer teachers. There are no prisons or law enforcement because there are no laws to break and no reasons for imprisonment.

However, as the story unfolds through the eyes of the protagonist, Shevek, a genius physicist, we see the other side of this society.

Shevek, with his knowledge that could potentially unite the societies of the universe, faces limitations on Anarres due to limited resources.

He decides to go against the will of the Anarresti people and seek intellectual companionship on Urras.

This decision leads to a series of events that force Shevek to question his beliefs and the ideology of his home planet.

While I found The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia to be a fascinating novel, I must admit that I preferred The Left Hand of Darkness.

The former felt a bit dry and didactic at times.

Nevertheless, the Anarresti form of socialist anarchy is the best part of the book.

Ursula K. Le Guin's ideas about how such a society might function are inventive and daring.

However, I remain skeptical about the possibility of an anarchist society existing in reality.

Thousands of years of human history suggest otherwise.

In a society like Anarres, where even the basic concept of family is rejected, it is hard to imagine what could hold people together except for an elusive concept of "brotherhood."

Moreover, it seems impossible for people to coexist and cooperate without someone striving for power, which is a fundamental part of human nature.

In my opinion, Anarres could only exist as anarchy for a short period before reverting to a more traditional social order.

Overall, as a work of speculative fiction, The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia is an interesting book that challenges our thinking about society and human nature.

I had the opportunity to read one of the Pulitzer runner-ups, "Unlocking the Air and Other Stories" by Ursula K. Le Guin. At first, it didn't immediately wow me. However, seeing the Hainish stories on numerous sci-fi classic lists, I decided to give it a deeper look with this particular one. And I'm glad I did, as I was richly rewarded.

This is a story that is masterfully told. It revolves around a scientist who is torn between his theory and the potential abuses of how it could be employed. The story involves a planet and its moon, and the chapters somewhat confusingly shift between different time periods and settings (either the planet or the moon). But from a literary perspective, it is better written than much of the sci-fi I have read so far.

In the Hainish universe, this turns out to be a somewhat early story (despite being the 6th one published by the author). It is from this story that the ansible (an instantaneous communication device permitting faster than light communication between planets, which is used everywhere else in her fiction and in subsequent sci-fi from many other writers) emerges.

I absolutely loved the characters in this story, the intrigue, and the narration. It is truly so different from most of the sci-fi I have read. I will likely be thinking about this story and its implications for years to come.

Fino's Reviews of Ursula Le Guin offer a comprehensive look at her works, including the Hainish Cycle, the Earthsea Cycle, and her short stories. Each review provides valuable insights into the books and stories, allowing readers to make informed decisions about which ones to pick up.

Whether you're a fan of sci-fi or just looking for a great read, Ursula K. Le Guin's works are definitely worth checking out. And with Fino's Reviews as a guide, you can be sure to discover some hidden gems.

Rereading something 30 years later, something you read with the eagerness of an adolescent and find insipid because it wasn't what you expected, nor were you the reader it was made for. It doesn't matter what that opinion was. Now I tell you that it is a masterpiece of "soft" science fiction. It's 5 stars *****.

Reading it nowadays allows me to compare and think: Would Ursula K. Le Guin have read the Russian book Estrella roja? How much did she know about how a kibbutz worked? Because basically Anarres and its desert difficulties can't be more similar to what Batya Gur tells in her book Asesinato en el kibbutz about how those communities functioned. Comparing the original Odonians reminds me of the communist or socialist Jews who founded this new way of life and organization. And at the same time, how over time that impulse is lost by the generations that have grown up there and can't compare, see the advantages, or even push for necessary changes and adjustments.

The structure of the book, telling the story of the protagonist in parallel from his present and also from the past to reach the same present in which the book begins, is incredibly well-fitted. The book includes a physical round trip, but in addition to that two-part temporal narration of events, it also includes another round trip of personal ideas. A trip from the disillusionment of the ideal world in which he lived to the imperfect but idealized world because he didn't live in it and which, when compared, reinforces the first and redeems it.

As I said, read it, and if it doesn't convince you, let the years pass and read it again.