In a manner of speaking

One of the hazards of being an English teacher is that you start seeing metaphors in everything you read; and, when you don't see any clearly, you start to worry, and deconstruct the book for hidden meaning.

I just finished reading the thoroughly enjoyable (although a little long-winded) Voices by the grand dame of fantasy, Ursula Le Guin. And, being a master of her craft, Ms Le Guin manages to give you a satisfying reading experience, while leaving it that little bit up-in-the-air, enough to make you want to read the third installment in the series, Powers, when it comes out later this year. And I'm sure I will read it, even though Voices wasn't quite as breathtaking as its pretty much perfect predecessor, Gifts. Let's hope Powers finishes the trilogy as magnificently as it began.

The issue for me was that, once at the end of Voices, I wasn't exactly sure what it was all supposed to express. Of course, I made my own thematic connections along the way, and the book made me think of a variety of things:
- The link between illiteracy and disempowerment
- The need for tolerance and understanding between people with differing worldviews and faiths
- The wonder and magic of reading
- The power of stories to move, motivate and transform
- Fear over an age in which books seem to be dying out
- A cry for the preservation of literature, poetry and culture, in an age that considers most things disposable
- A message about the power of diplomacy, coupled with a revolutionary, anti-establishment spirit (a potential contradiction, although not necessarily - maybe just a tension?).

All books contain messages, even if they are unknown to the author. All books communicate a worldview, and a set of ideals and values. Put together, these create a "message". Ursula Le Guin seems a little too focused on the otherworldliness and magic of a pagan, polytheistic worldview. It influences what could otherwise be quite a powerful political statement, or a call for tolerance. The only representation of monotheism in the book is a fundamentalist, dictatorial one, and I'm not at all comfortable with that. She's not necessarily talking about Christianity, but the "message", whether deliberate or not, is that paganism is beautiful and tolerant, while monotheism tries to squash all free thought.

It was also a bit hard to judge at the end if indeed, as the Alds (the conquering people) argued, demons did lurk in books. Spirits certainly did, although it seems subjective whether or not you call them demons. Perhaps Le Guin is making a point here about the power of the written word? And yet it isn't a power that anyone can tap - only those with the gift of "reading" the words of the oracles. Meaning? That again, you have a semi-ignorant people subject to those in the know. Not really as liberating as she's suggesting.

It almost spoils a book to think about it like this, I know. Aside from some overly complicated and slightly dreary "action" sequences, Voices was a terrific read. But it couldn't quite make up its mind about what it was trying to say about the world. No book can claim to be expressing nothing. And yet, Neil Gaiman's Stardust, which, compared to Le Guin, was fairy-floss (a metaphor that Gaiman would probably approve of), was potentially a more satisfying read, because it didn't set itself up as being half as "important" as Voices. I'm almost happier to accept questionable worldviews from books that don't purport to be About Big Issues. Voices couldn't decide what issues it wanted to be about, or what stance it would take on those issues, and I think that weakened it a little.

That said, though, I did have fun reading it, and that made a big difference.