Alex Foster’s reading experience, after shifting our perspectives in a circular motion, led the New Scientist Book Club into two contrasting worlds in Ursula K. Le Guin’s novel The Dispossessed. This authentic sci-fi classic from 1974 oscillates between two timelines. One follows physicist Chebek as he departs from the barren moon Anar to study at the university on Uras, a more prosperous planet, while he simultaneously grows within the anarchist society of Anar.

I first encountered The Dispossessed during my second year of university. At that time, I was captivated by the novel’s structure and the anarchist principles shaping Chebek’s hometown. After all, what better time to dive into radical fiction than as a budding student? On this subsequent reading, however, I found myself more attuned to the human aspects of the narrative. I now have a deeper understanding of Chebek’s character, albeit one I didn’t always sympathize with.

Many club members expressed excitement when we announced The Dispossessed as our next reading. “This is my favorite Le Guin book, though it’s truly hard to choose,” remarked Kelly Jensen. In Rachel Hand’s corners of reading on our Facebook Group, it had been a long-awaited selection for some. For others, it marked their first encounter with Le Guin’s work. New Scientist describes it as a “dive into the deep end.”

Despite its daunting reputation, some readers relished how The Dispossessed brims with concepts surrounding politics, physics, and language. “It’s absolutely spectacular that Le Guin tackles physics on the ‘time’ side of the space-time continuum,” said Laura Akers. Elizabeth Drummond Young appreciated the exploration of “sudden engagement,” examining linguistic and behavioral references, such as how individuals name themselves, paralleling notions introduced by Einstein in the novel.

However, a consensus emerged: few would wish to inhabit Anar, despite its egalitarian ideals. As Laura noted, “They can’t genuinely evaluate life as we do on Earth.” They hold a profound awareness of their ecosystems, yet remain focused on their operational realities.

Gosia Furmanik expressed ambivalence: “On one hand, it’s tremendous that there’s no exploitation, and they can, in principle, do as they please.

This notion came up during a conversation with Marcus Gipps, editor at Le Guin’s publisher, Gollancz. “Everything really comes down to perspective,” he told me. “I’m fascinated to learn about East Germany’s depiction prior to its fall in relation to this book, and I will continue to explore this!”

Perhaps the most contentious aspect of the novel is its portrayal of women. Some readers found the book’s gender ratios frustratingly outdated, feeling that our views of Anar and Uras are filtered through a biased human lens. “I perceived the book’s viewpoint as an internalized bias from the author, which is perhaps expected given its time of writing,” Gothia remarked. “The portrayal of relationships, such as Chebek’s interactions in the planting camp, presents a significant distortion of cis-heteromonogamy—despite the absence of marriage!”

Conversely, others interpreted the novel’s gender politics as more deliberate. “Le Guin aimed to provoke thought about the status of women within Anar’s framework,” Neil Leighton stated. “I don’t agree that we should assume she’s advocating a particular vision of utopia based on the characteristics of Anar’s society.”

With so many intricate ideas woven throughout, it’s no surprise not everyone found the book easy to digest. Phil Gurski had to stop reading around 160 pages in due to confusion, while Steve Swan remarked on needing patience during the initial chapters. Judith Lazelle echoed this sentiment.

I resonate with Phil, Steve, and Judith’s experiences. There are indeed peculiar moments where the book overwhelms with ideas. However, “Ursula Le Guin is an absolute literary master, and I’m a tremendous admirer. I understand why this work has garnered so many accolades.” Yet, I question whether the extensive philosophical deliberations detract from the narrative itself—though as usual, the maestro concludes in a deeply satisfying fashion.”

Fortunately, many members of the book club genuinely enjoyed The Dispossessed. “I adored this book,” exclaimed Neal. “I read it as a teenager and believe it to be one of the most influential texts in my thinking.” Rachel shared, “The ending was my favorite part,” while Terry James found the final 50 pages to be a “fantastic imaginative ride.”

We are now transitioning from a fantastical science fiction realm to the intricate world of neuroscience with our next book club selection: an award-winning nonfiction work. We are thrilled to explore the winners of this year’s Royal Society Trivedi Science Book Award, Our Brains, Ourselves by neuroscientist and clinician Mazood Hussain. Through seven captivating case studies, Hussain illustrates how various neurological conditions impact identity and belonging. This book is sure to engage fans of Oliver Sacks, as Grace Wade termed it “engaging and informative” earlier this February for those eager to delve into neuroscience.

You can find excerpts from this book as well. Additionally, Sandra Knapp, a plant taxonomist at the Museum of Natural History in London and head of the Jury Committee, offers unique insights into the award selection process. She shares what makes Our Brains, Ourselves stand out among other exceptional entries and highlights learnings from this “incredibly compassionate” work. Share your thoughts with us in our Facebook Group, and let us know if you’re excited for our next read.