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kadarAgain, massive spoilers for Vorkosigan-verse if you continue! You are warned!
Continuing off a comment thread onsynecdochic's post about Weber...
I said
I agree far more withazurelunatic's additions to the first person's comments, particularly about Beta as dystopia. I wanted to expand a little on that. Bear with me, as I'm working primarily from memory here (my books are up-island). I am also assuming that others are familiar with the books, or at least, some of the characters.
Bujold knows perfectly well that Beta isn't perfect; her narrator is Miles, who thinks Beta is heaven in comparison to Barrayar -- at least on his first visit. He grew up within a society that regularly practiced infanticide on any child with visible variations from the norm. [See the short story Mountains of Mourning for a very hard look at how Barrayar is dealing with this problem.] One of the first things we know about Miles is that he was born with visible disabilities, and that his grandfather made an attempt to kill him in utero. Beta is the first place where he is considered, if not normal, within the acceptable variation. Here, he explores his sexuality for the first time — and this is also where he made his first serious suicide attempt.
In Cordelia's Honor, we explore why a Betan finds Beta less than a perfect society. While Beta is tolerant of visible variation, sexual variation, and so on, Beta also expects its citizens to subscribe to certain norms and moralities. A Betan eccentric is monosexual (preferring only one sex). Growing up, Cordelia is expected to experiment with her sexuality. The fact that she ends up in a monogamous, heterosexual marriage is a rebellion, not a norm. She is proud that she had the courage to marry Aral.
For Aral, their marriage is a reversion to the Barrayaran norm. On first sight, Aral is an ideal Vor. Bujold rapidly makes it clear that this is a façade; Aral is a political radical with a scandalous personal life. His first marriage was arranged, and his rebellion was outside the norm. Instead of indulging with prostitutes and married women, he began a homosexual relationship. Shock! Horror!
Both Aral and Cordelia are considered eccentric by their own societies. Together, they are, if not off-the-board weird, at least acceptably strange.
I would argue that each society we see within the Vorkosigan universe is a commentary on some aspect on our own. In many ways, Barrayar is an optimistic mirror; here, our problems are in the process of being solved. In contrast, Beta is a commentary on our own idea of utopia. Athos (see Ethan of Athos) is a very tongue-in-cheek poke at a "pure" male homosexual community and at the evangelical recoil against homosexual marriage.
I could continue, but I won't -- at least for now.
I was wondering why I felt moved to post on this, anyway. And the reason is this:
The idea of taking an author's current work as evidence of the author's personal beliefs seems fairly prevalent in the blogosphere right now. I disagree with this viewpoint (a lot).
It is possible to draw some general conclusions after reading, say, Heinlein's entire opus, but even those are shaky. Heinlein repeatedly refused to comment on any possible parallels to his own life or beliefs, other than with laughter or a directive to re-read the book. I could speculate on his personal ethics and morals for hours, but it would remain just that -- airy speculation. I do think Heinlein believed in the gold standard, and was against gun-control. And that's all I know, because I read the author's notes in Expanded Universe and Grumbles from the Grave. Taking Starship Troopers as a mirror of Heinlein's personal utopia is an enormous mistake, yet I know many people at the time of publication did see it as an exact parallel. To puncture a giant hole in this theory, compare and contrast Starship Troopers with Stranger in a Strange Land, written just two years later.
In short, the first or third-person narrative cannot be taken as the author's viewpoint. No one would accuse Heinlein of being subtle, or even a great author. He was, however, an excellent craftsman. The "failures" of the narrator are not necessarily those of the author.
I have to admit, though, sometimes the author is clumsy enough that I really wonder. When you can see the seams on the character dolls, that's bad writing. And I'll throw it out on that basis.
/pontificate
Have you ever seen a movie or read a book where you absolutely loathed and despised the narrator or viewpoint? And yet... it was great writing and made you think about an issue you really didn't want to think about? Yeah, like that. Ask me about Susan R. Matthews sometime. Um, don't click on that link. Really.
Continuing off a comment thread on
synecdochic's post about Weber...I said
I think in some ways the person you're quoting is suffering from too much identification with Miles-as-narrator, rather than Bujold-as-author. This is a mistake I understand, but it is a mistake. Social analysis and commentary doesn't have to be obvious; Weber is much too obvious, while Bujold can be exceedingly subtle.
I agree far more with
azurelunatic's additions to the first person's comments, particularly about Beta as dystopia. I wanted to expand a little on that. Bear with me, as I'm working primarily from memory here (my books are up-island). I am also assuming that others are familiar with the books, or at least, some of the characters.Bujold knows perfectly well that Beta isn't perfect; her narrator is Miles, who thinks Beta is heaven in comparison to Barrayar -- at least on his first visit. He grew up within a society that regularly practiced infanticide on any child with visible variations from the norm. [See the short story Mountains of Mourning for a very hard look at how Barrayar is dealing with this problem.] One of the first things we know about Miles is that he was born with visible disabilities, and that his grandfather made an attempt to kill him in utero. Beta is the first place where he is considered, if not normal, within the acceptable variation. Here, he explores his sexuality for the first time — and this is also where he made his first serious suicide attempt.
In Cordelia's Honor, we explore why a Betan finds Beta less than a perfect society. While Beta is tolerant of visible variation, sexual variation, and so on, Beta also expects its citizens to subscribe to certain norms and moralities. A Betan eccentric is monosexual (preferring only one sex). Growing up, Cordelia is expected to experiment with her sexuality. The fact that she ends up in a monogamous, heterosexual marriage is a rebellion, not a norm. She is proud that she had the courage to marry Aral.
For Aral, their marriage is a reversion to the Barrayaran norm. On first sight, Aral is an ideal Vor. Bujold rapidly makes it clear that this is a façade; Aral is a political radical with a scandalous personal life. His first marriage was arranged, and his rebellion was outside the norm. Instead of indulging with prostitutes and married women, he began a homosexual relationship. Shock! Horror!
Both Aral and Cordelia are considered eccentric by their own societies. Together, they are, if not off-the-board weird, at least acceptably strange.
I would argue that each society we see within the Vorkosigan universe is a commentary on some aspect on our own. In many ways, Barrayar is an optimistic mirror; here, our problems are in the process of being solved. In contrast, Beta is a commentary on our own idea of utopia. Athos (see Ethan of Athos) is a very tongue-in-cheek poke at a "pure" male homosexual community and at the evangelical recoil against homosexual marriage.
I could continue, but I won't -- at least for now.
I was wondering why I felt moved to post on this, anyway. And the reason is this:
The idea of taking an author's current work as evidence of the author's personal beliefs seems fairly prevalent in the blogosphere right now. I disagree with this viewpoint (a lot).
It is possible to draw some general conclusions after reading, say, Heinlein's entire opus, but even those are shaky. Heinlein repeatedly refused to comment on any possible parallels to his own life or beliefs, other than with laughter or a directive to re-read the book. I could speculate on his personal ethics and morals for hours, but it would remain just that -- airy speculation. I do think Heinlein believed in the gold standard, and was against gun-control. And that's all I know, because I read the author's notes in Expanded Universe and Grumbles from the Grave. Taking Starship Troopers as a mirror of Heinlein's personal utopia is an enormous mistake, yet I know many people at the time of publication did see it as an exact parallel. To puncture a giant hole in this theory, compare and contrast Starship Troopers with Stranger in a Strange Land, written just two years later.
In short, the first or third-person narrative cannot be taken as the author's viewpoint. No one would accuse Heinlein of being subtle, or even a great author. He was, however, an excellent craftsman. The "failures" of the narrator are not necessarily those of the author.
I have to admit, though, sometimes the author is clumsy enough that I really wonder. When you can see the seams on the character dolls, that's bad writing. And I'll throw it out on that basis.
/pontificate
Have you ever seen a movie or read a book where you absolutely loathed and despised the narrator or viewpoint? And yet... it was great writing and made you think about an issue you really didn't want to think about? Yeah, like that. Ask me about Susan R. Matthews sometime. Um, don't click on that link. Really.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-01 06:57 am (UTC)