Le Guin, Ursula K.: Dancing at the Edge of the World
Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on Words, Women, Places
Writer: Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Literature (Essays)
Pages: 306
I started reading this, like many of the books I abandoned for some reason or another, late in 2003. I didn't abandon this one because it was bad or boring. Being a book of essays, I felt I could read it at leisure, and one day I put it down and just didn't pick it up again.
I understand why now. Le Guin is a deep thinker, and every essay, despite its content, is nothing to speed through. It’s something to chew on and savor, consider the flavor, figure out how it lines up with your own way of thinking. I was first tempted to review the single essays that stood out to me, but seeing that there were so many, and often I kept saying the same thing, “Le Guin makes you think” or “This is a fascinating essay.” It became quickly apparent that I couldn’t review this way, so I’ll be touching on the book overall, discussing what stood out to me but highlighting other areas, because this book truly has a little something for everyone.
If there’s one thing that continues to fascinate me about Le Guin, it’s her voice. I’ve read four of her fiction novels (A Wizard of Earthsea, The Dispossessed, The Lathe of Heaven, and The Left Hand of Darkness), and a short story of hers, “The Poacher”. Say whatever you will about her writing, she is a tremendous talent, and in the realm of essays, a fierce, passionate individual, with a sense of humor to boot.
Dancing at the Edge of the World is a crock-pot full of topics. While most of the essays focus on any mix of women, writing, literature, and travel, one can get an almost whip-lash feeling reading through this, simply because as a whole, the book appears to have no focus.
That’s not a criticism, though. The table of contents clearly labels each essay, warning you what realm it falls under so that you, the dear reader, can skip something you may find potentially offensive. However, and I don’t believe this is intentional, there were several times I’d read an essay and think, “Oh, this is about social responsibility.” But when I’d check the table of contents, it’d be about travel, or literature. Huh. What this showed me though is that despite Le Guin’s (or her editors) intent on defining the essays, every reader brings their own experiences to what they read, and truly, meaning resides in the individual.
I read every word in this. (okay, I cheated a wee bit: I skimmed over anything that resembled poetry). One of the responses that constantly popped up when I tried reviewing an individual essay was how much Le Guin’s commentary and observations made me think. Truth be told, I don’t always agree with her. There are times I think she’s a little too paranoid or extremist in her thinking, and then there are times that I wonder just how much these essays would change in light of current events. Granted, some things don’t change. But some things do.
But oh, I must stress again: Le Guin makes me think. Even when I don’t agree with her views, I find her viewpoint fascinating. As a writer, some of these essays are filled with wonderful fodder to chew on and consider. No doubt, these essays will influence future novels and stories that I write. But these essays also influence me as a woman, as a human being. There were many times I wanted to cheer and shout, “Right on, sister!” or “Finally!” Maybe it’s because some of her views of feminism are right up my alley. When I said earlier that she’s at times a little too extreme or paranoid, I don’t mean that she’s a man-hating feminist. In fact, Le Guin points out in several essays she feels left out of the feminist community. Her views, instead, focus more on balance, and she speculates often the difference between masculine writing/feminine writing; father tongue/mother tongue; man’s world/woman’s world. This is rich stuff.
But this is not solely a book on womens’ issues, though her thinking on such things influences the other areas she talks about: her essays on writing, the theories of fiction, where women fit in the picture are fascinating. Her travel essays/poems left me a little antsy, simply because I’m not well-traveled and anyone who’s read this journal for a while knows I zone out when it comes to setting detail. However, some of her points are striking, especially when making pointed remarks about the way things were (traveling by train and inhaling the scenery versus flight and missing everything), and for those people who are well-traveled, I think they’ll find the essays, especially her stream-of-conscious poetry, fascinating and delightful.
She also includes a section of reviews that she published under a nom de plume. I figured I’d find this section dull, as I hadn’t read any of the books discussed (let alone these books were reviewed back in the eighties), but I found them to be mostly fascinating, particularly her observations on a C.S. Lewis piece. That’s all I’ll say about that, except that if you’re a genre reader, you should definitely take a look at this section.
A special note of interest to those people familiar with Le Guin’s work: she talks a bit about her own novels (particularly The Left Hand of Darkness and The Lathe of Heaven) and how these works have been received and perceived by the public. Also mention of some short stories, about why she wrote certain pieces. And another fascinating thing to note is that Le Guin’s mother was also a writer, and Le Guin talks extensively about this woman and her process and who she was as a person. There’s rich material here, not to be missed.
Another note of interest: for those unaware, Le Guin is incredibly sympathetic to women and minorities. If you haven’t noticed this by reading her books, it’ll be made clearly in this volume of essays. While I think her heart is rooted in Native American history, mythology and lore, her awareness as a writer and as a human of the world at large and the peoples’ who populate it is very sharp, and it’s evident when she discusses various matters involving social responsibility and writer responsibility. Le Guin is not someone you want to miss in this regard.
I’ve actually recommended this book many times to people of all reading backgrounds. If you’re a woman, especially with any kind of feminist bent, you should read this book. If you’re a writer, you should read this book. If you’re both, what the hell are you waiting for? Le Guin is a must, especially for those of us struggling to define ourselves in male-dominated genres. And as mentioned behind the cut, Le Guin is passionate about diversity, so if you’re a writer who’s passionate about that, don’t discount her simply because she’s a white female. Le Guin has been noted to be one of the first writers to appeal to readers of all colors. Thank her anthropologist parents for that.
But I don’t want to limit my recommendation to just writers. Nor do I want to limit my recommendation to only readers of the science fiction/fantasy genres. Le Guin is well-educated, and it shows. She talks Woolf; she talks Stein. Her observations of the world around her will make any one paying any attention sit up and take notice. Le Guin writes with a gentle cadence and humor, and her sarcasm is as subtle as it is sharp. It takes a moment for it to sink in, and it makes you go back and think.
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it over and over again: Le Guin makes you think. Even if you don’t agree with her, she’ll make you think.