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Changing Planes by Ursula Le Guin
pub: Gollancz. 214 page hardback. Price: £ 8.99 (UK).
ISBN: 0-575-07564-3
check out website: www.orionbooks.co.uk
This
is a strange little book, you know. From the description I'd read
previously and from the blurb on the jacket's inside cover, you
would imagine that it was a straightforward novel with a central
character and a linear narrative.
This is not the case though, rather it is a collection of stories
all coherently lead by a central theme and idea. This volume centres
on something called, after its inventor, the 'Sita Dulip' method,
that allows individuals to move between different planes of existence.
The
triggering factors required for this enterprise to work are the
severe discomfort and irritation produced by air travel. Subsequently,
airports are the only places where this type of journey is possible.
With this assertion the tone of the collection is firmly established,
it is a work that is heavy on dry humour and irony.
The stories that follow the introduction are well-written satires
that address many areas of life, but are principally social in nature.
They seem to concentrate on larger, more global ideas, whilst avoiding
direct confrontation with any real-life political figures or entities.
It is here that the collection splits from what it clearly seeks
to emulate: 'Gulliver's Travels' by Jonathan Swift. Le Guin's style
is definitely evocative of this earlier classic. Le Guin herself
nods in its direction by mentioning it in 'The Island Of The Immortals',
where the narrator confirms that she has read it before (much to
my chagrin, as until that point I had been engaged in a vigorous
session of backslapping for noticing the connection).
This collection is far more than just a simple homage, however.
The reference to 'Gulliver's Travels' serves to remind us that Swift
was using the as then undeveloped tropes of fantasy and SF to construct
his satire. Le Guin adopts this approach but updates it and throws
in a bundle of fresh new ideas that add a relevance to her book
that Swift's novel is starting to lose.
Le Guin uses travelling between planes in the same way that Swift
used a journey to new, undiscovered lands. It frees her up to present
to the reader the cocktail of worlds, societies and peoples that
she will use to present her satires to us. One defining feature
of all the tales is that the societies depicted are principally
low-tech in nature and if a high-tech society appears, it is usually
intruding upon or invading these less developed worlds. These low-tech
settings are idealised by Le Guin.
They do have their problems but they are almost universally depicted
as being preferable to our own reality. For instance, in the story
'Great Joy', a group of businessmen from our plane enter into another
realm, bringing with them their alien value system and a technology
that subverts the plane's population into living in what is effectively
a kind of slavery.
When the tale is concluded, these unfortunate citizens go back
to their previous lifestyles, although it is clear that they have
been irrevocably tainted in some way by the intrusion. From this
assumption, the individual stories diverge to satirise more specific
elements of modern western culture.
'The Royals Of Hegn' attacks our devotion to the church of celebrity
as Le Guin depicts a plane where the majority of the populace are
members of the Royal family. The remaining minority are known as
the 'Commoners'. The 'Royals' scrutinise every aspect of the 'Commoners'
lives for their own entertainment, in an ingenious inversion that
lampoons the absurd attention paid to people in publications such
as 'Heat' magazine.
Le Guin is equally effective when the tone of the piece is more
serious, such as in 'The Fliers Of Gy'. It concerns itself with
a plane whose inhabitants have a risk of developing wings during
puberty. This phenomena divides the citizens into three categories;
the wingless masses, those who have wings and choose not to fly
out of fear and the Fliers.
In the end, it is those who risk danger and use their gifts that
seem to be the happiest of all three categories. It is a familiar
metaphor but in Le Guin's hands it is given an affecting ring of
truth. This satirical approach can sometimes implode upon itself,
however.
'The Building' strives towards a meaning that is not as clearly
defined or accessible as other entries in the volume, even a family
of Doozers would have had trouble enjoying this one (my first Fraggle
Rock reference, oh joy!) This is faint criticism though, as you
would be hard put to find a more thought provoking collection in
the genre or one constructed with such allegorical beauty and skill.
From this volume alone it is understandable to see why the critics
have heaped so much praise on this remarkable author. Long live
the Queen of SF!
Paul Skevington
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