Le Guin is a death worshipper. The major theme of the Earthsea is the folly of the quest for immortality or even survival, and the naturalness of death.
Thankyou. That is the kind of attitude that at times makes me abandon a book in disgust. If I don’t identify with the goals or decisions of the protagonist I tend to be either disinterested in or repulsed by the work. I’ll avoid the author.
I agree about the deathism of Earthsea. And it has other faults, such as the fourth volume (Tehanu) being her turning against (although not entirely) the misogyny of the whole setup of the first three, and with the zeal of the newly enlightened retconning “men evil, women good” onto it. Always Coming Home is full of fluffy woo.
But she also wrote the short story The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which is worth finding, because it’s about a standard utilitarian problem. I’m sure some philosopher posed it in exactly the form in which her story presents it, but I’ve not been able to track that down. Imagine a utopia — whatever utopia you like — except that it must be sustained by the suffering of a little girl confined in a cell and tortured for ever. It is part of the thought experiment that the utopia and the suffering are necessarily connected: the little girl can only be freed at the cost of ending the utopia. It is alluded to in HPMOR.
My subversive interpretation of Omelas is that the kid whose suffering the good of the entire place depends on is a taxpayer. We tax the kid in suffering, and we use the suffering to buy prosperity for everyone else. Of course, this is a tax which hurts people unequally (the kid: a lot, everyone else: not at all), but even conventional taxes can’t make everyone better off, and this is especially so for taxes that are intended for redistributing wealth.
What makes this interpretation subversive, of course, is that the very same people who talk about how we should consider how our actions affect others are generally the biggest proponents of taxation and wealth redistribution. I’m pretty certain that LeGuin isn’t a libertarian; you’re supposed to read the story and conclude that you’re victimizing others and that you have obligations towards others—not that you’re the victim.and other people have obligations towards you.
Thankyou. That is the kind of attitude that at times makes me abandon a book in disgust. If I don’t identify with the goals or decisions of the protagonist I tend to be either disinterested in or repulsed by the work. I’ll avoid the author.
I agree about the deathism of Earthsea. And it has other faults, such as the fourth volume (Tehanu) being her turning against (although not entirely) the misogyny of the whole setup of the first three, and with the zeal of the newly enlightened retconning “men evil, women good” onto it. Always Coming Home is full of fluffy woo.
But she also wrote the short story The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which is worth finding, because it’s about a standard utilitarian problem. I’m sure some philosopher posed it in exactly the form in which her story presents it, but I’ve not been able to track that down. Imagine a utopia — whatever utopia you like — except that it must be sustained by the suffering of a little girl confined in a cell and tortured for ever. It is part of the thought experiment that the utopia and the suffering are necessarily connected: the little girl can only be freed at the cost of ending the utopia. It is alluded to in HPMOR.
My subversive interpretation of Omelas is that the kid whose suffering the good of the entire place depends on is a taxpayer. We tax the kid in suffering, and we use the suffering to buy prosperity for everyone else. Of course, this is a tax which hurts people unequally (the kid: a lot, everyone else: not at all), but even conventional taxes can’t make everyone better off, and this is especially so for taxes that are intended for redistributing wealth.
What makes this interpretation subversive, of course, is that the very same people who talk about how we should consider how our actions affect others are generally the biggest proponents of taxation and wealth redistribution. I’m pretty certain that LeGuin isn’t a libertarian; you’re supposed to read the story and conclude that you’re victimizing others and that you have obligations towards others—not that you’re the victim.and other people have obligations towards you.