Though Ursula Le Guin and Philip K. Dick
may seem to exist at opposite ends of the sci-fi spectrum, for parts of the 60s
and 70s the two routinely corresponded and had a mutual regard for one
another. Experimenting in the form of
the paranoid/schizophrenic/manic sci-fi master, Le Guin wrote The Lathe of Heaven in 1971 in tribute
to Dick, garnering awards and praise in the process. Winning the Locus and being nominated for the
Hugo and Nebula, the novel’s reality-controlling dreams and ambiguous
psychologists were more than enough to catch the eye of the public. Perhaps more importantly, however, PKD gave
his own approval.
The
Lathe of Heaven
is the story of George Orr, a man who abuses drugs to prevent what he thinks
are “effective” dreams - dreams that alter reality. Forced by the authorities to undergo
treatment for his abuses, Orr finds himself a patient at an asylum and begins
therapy with the psychologist Dr. Haber.
Haber, seeming to quickly recognize the latent power and opportunities present in
Orr’s dreams, begins rigorous testing.
The multiple levels of experiments Orr undergoes, in combination with
the cumulative effects of the dreams, slowly but surely alter reality in ways
neither can predict. The conflict of
interests—Orr’s desire to escape and Haber’s ambitions for Orr’s
abilities—gradually culminate in circumstances that change the world. Or does it… (PKD smiling on the wings.)
As is typical with Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven possesses a strong
ideological and moral backbone. The
title taken from an (incorrectly) translated passage from a Zhuangzi epigraph,
the themes of harmony, equanimity, and passive vs. active behavior toward
destiny take the forefront. Orr and
Haber each seeking the same goals but from different angles, how Le Guin
resolves their conflict not only exemplifies her own Daoist leanings, but proves
the philosophy can make for good literary substance when applied to a suitable
premise (as does A Wizard of Earthsea).
The faults of the novel are only a
matter of taste. Firstly, with reality
an increasingly slippery plot element to put a finger on, it’s possible the
story, and transitions within the story, may be confusing. Things bounce around a touch, so those who
prefer comfortable, linear narratives should be warned. (Readers of Dick and those who enjoy atypical
plot lines and stories of the surreal will have no problems.) Secondly, the book does not have a
comfortable resting place in Le Guin’s oeuvre.
An insular novel, those looking for works similar to her Hainish, Orsinian, or Earthsea
series may be disappointed. The setting,
dialogue, and characterization all contemporary, little beyond theme links the
novel to the remainder of her works.
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