Ethnography of alien cultures is rightly praised for teaching us about ourselves. Historically, the research endeavor began when the western empires sent out their envoys and clergymen to learn more about the culture of the peoples whose nations they colonized. What gradually emerged, however, was a better understanding of the multitude of shapes in which our shared humanity may be molded. By way of contrast, it became evident that what the west calls modernity is but one of the many paths of civilization.

In our seemingly modern societies, the importance of gender and the associated problem of privilege and injustice is often criticized. Could our binary perception be overcome? How would it be to live in a society of sexless androgynes?

In her The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Le Guin imagines the planet of Gethen (or Winter) where many centuries ago genetic manipulation made this a reality. Her protagonist, Genly Ai, mostly shares our present day of thinking on the issue. Arriving in Le Guin's world, he becomes entangled in social relationship very richly determined by gradually developing mutual understanding and the reciprocal acceptance of difference. In a word, he becomes an ideal participant observer.

There is a political reason why there are attempts to establish First Contact with the long-disconnected fraction of humanity. Gethen is to be given the chance to join an intergalactic confederation called the Ekumen or the League of All Worlds, as in Le Guin's earlier novels. It would be one of more than 3,000 nations on 83 worlds, among them Earth (or Terra). Ai was selected to present the local governments and monarchs with the offer.

At the beginning of the story, Ai had been living in the nation of Karhide for two years. He had mostly been there to gain their trust. It's a challenge; before his arrival, the Gethenians couldn't even imagine the possibility of space travel. His means of transformation and his repulsive biological make-up are examined most carefully and eventually the man responsible, Lord Estraven (Therem Harth rem ir Estraven), admits that he is what he says he is. He finally grants him an audience with the king in the city of Erhenrang.

To reduce the story to its contribution to the debate on gender would be selling it very short. Unlike most works of science fiction that are concerned with Big Ideas, The Left Hand of Darkness is fully character-driven. The plot unfolds against the backdrop of a world elaborately developed in detail, yet it's the fact that culture becomes personal that makes it emotionally and intellectually so fully alive. It's the sense of understanding that only the best contributions to cultural anthropology convey.

The familiar plot of political intrigue soon collapses to reveal the everyday strive hidden underneath the glamorous facade on which many science-fiction novels focus. Ai finds himself in the darkness of refugee camps, hungry and cooped up in a truck, with the twenty-two others who share his fate and on their way into a labor camp (the Voluntary Farm) where they are drugged so heavily that they remain only barely conscious of their existence. I wasn't prepared for the emotional blows.

What makes the novel truly unique is its mesmerizing portrayal of intercultural friendship in perfect isolation. The relationship of Ai and Estraven, two individuals from very different worlds, escapes all easy definition. Why would Estraven risk everything to save Ai? Initially, it seems far-fetched but the vague ideas of patriotism render it somehow intelligible to the reader. They are not lovers in our sense – their differing biological make-up makes it difficult for them to connect on the physical level – but nevertheless they do seem to be in love with each other.

In the novel's most amazing climax the two travel hundreds of miles through the icy environments of Winter. I wouldn't know how to do justice to Le Guin's phenomenal writing. The straining challenges outside freeze your soul, yet their word-sparing conversations are amazingly subtle and for this very reason most heart-warming.

It's not just the wonderful prose. Le Guin is able to recreate the tone and style of actual myths and oral legends in small interludes to make her world come even more to life. These snippets have their raison d'être primarily in the fact that they throw a different light on events and characters and give them almost religious significance.

As you will have realized from my grappling with words, it's difficult for me to explain just what it is I'm talking about. But if you've read The Left Hand of Darkness, you'll know how it uses language and culture to create an amazingly eclectic tale that somehow captures the human condition.

Rating: 5/5