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This month's book club read was Joan Slonczewski's Door Into Ocean, a 1986 feminist sci fi novel of which I had previously never heard.
This book grapples with several common topics of interest in feminist sff, including but not necessarily limited to:
- all-female society! what's THAT like
- human violence: why are we like this. why are we so fucked
- subcategory: resisting human violence: is there a viable alternative besides 'more violence' or are we all just equally fucked
- hey did you notice that capitalism and colonialism kill planets or
... and is actually significantly more nuanced and messy on all these points than I expected from the premise, which is "humans fuck up a neighboring planet of nonviolent lesbian fish aliens."
The standard-issue humans and the lesbian fish aliens are actually both far-future descendants of a human race that colonized a billion planets long ago, most of which are now destroyed, and most of the remainder of which are (with the exception of the lesbian fish alien planet) monitored by a far-distant patriarchal figure who keeps watch on all the remaining planets and occasionally destroys them if they get too technologically advanced. This is all largely irrelevant to the plot except inasmuch as distant patriarchal pressures are acting on everyone throughout the book.
At the start of the book, the humans' attempts to do capitalism with the lesbian fish aliens over the past few decades have been going steadily south; things escalate from there, with two humans ending up in the middle of the conflict. The first is a noblewoman with a deep affection for lesbian fish alien society who's been working for years to promote equitable trade, but whose careful balancing act between the two cultures is becoming increasingly unstable; the second is a lower-class teenage boy who ends up doing a sort of summer internship in lesbian fish alien society as an intercultural experiment on the part of the lesbian fish alien who's most invested in trying to figure out a way to bridge the cultural gap.
There are two things that make the book really interesting to me. The first is just the specificity of lesbian fish alien culture: it's not an easy utopia, there's a lot of really interesting cultural and linguistic (!) worldbuilding that goes into the makeup of it, which feels fully realized and well thought through. But the other thing that's most interesting to me about the book, I think, is that it's also really specific about the ways that the lesbian fish aliens attempt to resist the violent colonization of their neighbor planet, and the arguments about whether to resort to violence themselves, and the ways that their tactics both escalate and deescalate the response. As a result, the resolution doesn't feel like a parable, or like it's proffering an answer to any of the questions the book is posing; the outcome is the result of a thousand small factors, any of which could have played out differently in slightly different circumstances.
(I did find the beginning fairly difficult to settle into but I suspect this is in large part because the last so-called feminist anticolonialist anticapitalist novel about humanoid fish people I read was Sheri S. Tepper's Fish Tails and it took a while for my shoulders to relax from being up around my ears.)
This book grapples with several common topics of interest in feminist sff, including but not necessarily limited to:
- all-female society! what's THAT like
- human violence: why are we like this. why are we so fucked
- subcategory: resisting human violence: is there a viable alternative besides 'more violence' or are we all just equally fucked
- hey did you notice that capitalism and colonialism kill planets or
... and is actually significantly more nuanced and messy on all these points than I expected from the premise, which is "humans fuck up a neighboring planet of nonviolent lesbian fish aliens."
The standard-issue humans and the lesbian fish aliens are actually both far-future descendants of a human race that colonized a billion planets long ago, most of which are now destroyed, and most of the remainder of which are (with the exception of the lesbian fish alien planet) monitored by a far-distant patriarchal figure who keeps watch on all the remaining planets and occasionally destroys them if they get too technologically advanced. This is all largely irrelevant to the plot except inasmuch as distant patriarchal pressures are acting on everyone throughout the book.
At the start of the book, the humans' attempts to do capitalism with the lesbian fish aliens over the past few decades have been going steadily south; things escalate from there, with two humans ending up in the middle of the conflict. The first is a noblewoman with a deep affection for lesbian fish alien society who's been working for years to promote equitable trade, but whose careful balancing act between the two cultures is becoming increasingly unstable; the second is a lower-class teenage boy who ends up doing a sort of summer internship in lesbian fish alien society as an intercultural experiment on the part of the lesbian fish alien who's most invested in trying to figure out a way to bridge the cultural gap.
There are two things that make the book really interesting to me. The first is just the specificity of lesbian fish alien culture: it's not an easy utopia, there's a lot of really interesting cultural and linguistic (!) worldbuilding that goes into the makeup of it, which feels fully realized and well thought through. But the other thing that's most interesting to me about the book, I think, is that it's also really specific about the ways that the lesbian fish aliens attempt to resist the violent colonization of their neighbor planet, and the arguments about whether to resort to violence themselves, and the ways that their tactics both escalate and deescalate the response. As a result, the resolution doesn't feel like a parable, or like it's proffering an answer to any of the questions the book is posing; the outcome is the result of a thousand small factors, any of which could have played out differently in slightly different circumstances.
(I did find the beginning fairly difficult to settle into but I suspect this is in large part because the last so-called feminist anticolonialist anticapitalist novel about humanoid fish people I read was Sheri S. Tepper's Fish Tails and it took a while for my shoulders to relax from being up around my ears.)
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Gotta say, no review I have ever read of Tepper's scifi has made me want to pick that up, which is whacky because I really liked her mystery series written as A.J. Orde and B. J. Oliphant. She's one of the few writers I ever read who Gets the southwest.
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But this book, on the other hand, I did find compelling!
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'Lesbian fish alien culture' would have been a lot more shocking in '86 than it is nowadays.
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Possibly you had me at lesbian fish aliens.
As a result, the resolution doesn't feel like a parable, or like it's proffering an answer to any of the questions the book is posing; the outcome is the result of a thousand small factors, any of which could have played out differently in slightly different circumstances.
That's really cool.
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I think the only feminist anticolonialist anticapitalist novel about humanoid fish people I have read is Larissa Lai's Salt Fish Girl, which I have to say I didn't care for, if only because I hate mystical pregnancies.
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...wait, would Solomon's The Deep count also? I also have not yet read it, but it's on my list. Five!
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ETA: which I have now created, for the good of humanity
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I seem to recall it was the first book in a trilogy, but I don't think I ever tracked down the rest of it to read.
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(That said, it does contain a bunch of triggers, especially in the back half when the campaign against the lesbian fish aliens escalates to more or less attempted genocide. I'd be happy to be more specific if you want.)
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Ahem. I love Slonczewski--she was a GOH at Wiscon some years ago and is just a really intelligent, kind, unassuming person. I haven't actually read this one, but I have read and would definitely recommend Still Forms on Foxfield, one of exactly four Quakers in Space books I know of, and Brain Plague, which is still one of the most interesting depictions of the creative process I've come across.
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Have you read Dazzle of Day?
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Apparently, the Slonczewski book I've read (much later than when it was published) is The Wall Around Eden, which I half-liked in 2006 and do not now remember much about. My post isn't worth a link--too shallow.
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Sometimes the last paragraph of a review serves as an entire, detailed, additional review of another book.
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SOLD. I really need to read more pre-90s scifi by women...
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