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561 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1982
Originally I only intended to read ‘The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas,’ but I’m so glad I picked up her masterworks collection. Clearly a genius ahead of her time, each of these stories was rich, diverse, and uniquely thought provoking. There wasn’t a single story I disliked, but here were my favorites.
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: Because I'm trying to pick up the message.
CAPTAIN: What message?
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: The one we haven't heard before.
CAPTAIN: What for?
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: Well, it might indicate where we're going - we and all the other ships of the Fleet.
CAPTAIN: What does it matter where we're going, so long as we're going? Listen, 'Sparks,' I don't like to berate you like this. We'd like to have the upmost faith in you. You're a fantastically good Communications Officer, for a woman. But-
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: Excuse me, Captain, I'm getting star hiss. Over and out.
CAPTAIN: You mean the automatic self-destruct units are all self-destructed?
CHIEF ENGINEER: Aye, that's about the size of it, Captain.
CAPTAIN: You mean we can't destruct the ship, if the crack in the Anti-Matter Isolater widens? But if we can't self-destruct, and the Anti-Matter Isolater blows, we'll take the fifty nearest stars and all their planets with us - we'll blow up this whole region of space - if the anti-matter meets an F-2 star, the destruction might become a chain reaction and the entire Galaxy could be destructed!
CHIEF ENGINEER: Weel, we're working hard on that crack, Captain.
CAPTAIN: We? What do you mean, we? There's only one of you down there in the Engine Room. Isn't there?
CHIEF ENGINEER: Aye. But I wish there was a few more.
FIRST MATE: [...] Captain Cook! Captain Cook! This officer is insane!
CAPTAIN: What officer?
INSANE SECOND MATE: Me.
CAPTAIN: Oh, now, we just call you that, because you won't use secondary process thinking.
[...]
CAPTAIN: All right, everybody. Lunchtime. Mouth to the soup chute, mates! Ready? [...] Soup's on!
FIRST MATE: Mmmm.
INSANE SECOND MATE: Yum.
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: Yum.
CAPTAIN: Yum.
INSANE SECOND MATE: What about the alien?
CHIEF ENGINEER: Ahh.
CHIEF ENGINEER: I'll see to the puir wee beastie. Send me another chute of soup, Captain, and I'll catch it in an oilcan and pour it in through the slot. Aye, that's it. Now then. Here I am. Are you ready, beastie? Here it comes!
ALIEN: Num, num.
CHIEF ENGINEER: There's a bonnie beastie. Go to sleep now.
[...]
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: [...] This is from the alien, I think.
INSANE SECOND MATE: [...] What is it saying?
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: It still doesn't speak English.
INSANE SECOND MATE: What's the message, then?
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: Hiccups.
CAPTAIN: Hiccups?
COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER: It has the hiccups. It must have been the tomato rice soup. Here, I'll put it on the intracom. Listen.
ALIEN: Hic
Hic
CHIEF ENGINEER: Captain, there's a rattling in the forward pipes, and a high pressure area building up amidships. Should I try baking soda?
CAPTAIN: No, no, you never use soda when there's an alien aboard, haven't you read the Handbook? Try Maalox.
CHIEF ENGINEER: Aye aye, Captain.
ALIEN: Hic
CHIEF ENGINEER: There, there, puir wee sleekit cowerin' beastie.
FIRST MATE: Oh, my God, if only I could have shipped aboard a cruiser, where I belong! I'm going mad here! You're all mad. I'm mad
INSANE SECOND MATE: Mr Balls. Listen. Would it make you feel any better if there was another male on board?
FIRST MATE: Another male? Of course it would. Strength! Sanity! Logic! Cleanliness! Godliness! Virility! Yes! Yes!
INSANE SECOND MATE: Even if it was an alien?
FIRST MATE: An alien?
INSANE SECOND MATE: This might, you know, be a male alien.
CAPTAIN: Yes, there's better than a fifty percent chance of that.
FIRST MATE: My God. It might. You're right. It might.
CAPTAIN: That was a good thought, 'Bats.'
INSANE SECOND MATE: Well, it's not my own preference, but I thought it might stabilise Mr Balls.
FIRST MATE: A male alien. A male. By golly. It just might be. Hey. Alien. Are you there?
ALIEN: Hic
FIRST MATE: What are you, alien? Hmm? Are you a little boy alien? Hmm?
The central idea of this psychomyth, the scapegoat, turns up in Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov, and several people have asked me, rather suspiciously, why I gave the credit to William James. The fact is, I haven't been able to re-read Dostoevsky, much as I loved him, since I was twenty-five, and I'd simply forgotten he used the idea. [...] Of course I didn't read James and sit down and say, Now I'll write a story about that 'lost soul.' It seldom works that simply. I sat down and started a story, just because I felt like it, with nothing but the word 'Omelas' in mind. It came from a road sign: Salem (Oregon) backwards. Don't you read road signs backwards? POTS. WOLS nerdlihc. Ocsicnarf Nas... Salem equals schelomo equals salaam equals Peace. Melas. 0 melas. Omelas. Homme hélas. 'Where do you get your ideas from, Ms Le Guin.?' From forgetting Dostoyevsky and reading road signs backwards, naturally. Where else?
And with them, or after them, may there not come that even bolder adventure - the first geolinguist, who, ignoring the delicate, transient lyrics of the lichen, will read beneath it the still less communicative, still more passive, wholly atemporal, cold, volcanic poetry of the rocks: each one a word spoken, how long ago, by the earth itself, in the immense solitude, the immenser community, of space.
The people who called him a power-seeker and a dictator were just the same ones who used to say that Hitler was insane and Nixon was insane and all the world leaders were insane and the arms race was insane and our misuse of natural resources was insane and the whole world civilisation was insane and suicidal. They were always saying things like that. And they said it about Dr. Speakie.