The Left Hand of Darkness

Author: Ursula K Le Guin

I’ve got a lot to say about this one so buckle up.

Ursula K Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness is heralded as one of the most iconic sci-fi stories, which won her a Hugo Award amongst a myriad of others, mainly due to it’s extremely progressive view of gender and sexual identify.

This was written in 1969, and I have to agree, that for the time that it was likely created and released, this would have been truly ground-breaking, and a deep and nuanced look at gender politics and attitudes towards sexuality.

Yes, we now live in 2026. And yes, there have been far more progressive viewpoints and narratives, but that shouldn’t diminish the work that Le Guin crafted with this. I’ve seen a few people say she didn’t go far enough, but I think that if you maintain that sort of argument, then you could really benefit from understanding the progress over perfection mantra.

This is an iconic piece of literature, no arguments.

But.

And it’s a very big, glacial but.

This book is marketed, and described as a tale between two people, and how their relationship progresses and blossoms during their journey across an 800 mile ice shelf in treacherous conditions.

Okay, fine. But that journey across the ice shelf doesn’t start until page 209 (ish) of a 301 page book. How can the entire theme and narrative plot of a book ignore the first two thirds, and dilute how this is seen as a story to omit most of it’s content?

And yes, I hear the people out there saying “Oh, but you need the first two-thirds to create the final third”. To which I say, do you?

This is a clunky, very densely and often jumbled story (the first two-thirds) about political vying, political espionage, and a very – at times – ignorant take on two vastly different cultures own sexual identities.

Yes, yes. You’re going to say “oh but this is intentional to show the beauty of the final third” – again I say, is it?

It is SO hard to read in the first portion of the book. With world-spanning time-jumps and narratively disruptive accounts of third parties, it’s essentially a consolidation of administrative documents.

The final third, beautiful.

The writing finally settles down and comes into it’s own to tell a story, not to vomit facts, people, and politicians at you. But I think by that time, I was too far gone in my disdain for reading this.

Is it beautiful? At times.
Is it progressive? For sure.
Is it a dense, and unpleasant read? You betcha.

I could not vibe with this from a narrative, and storytelling perspective, but as a culturally avant-garde shaping of gender, it is genuinely really interesting.

Alas, I wanted more, I expected more, and I genuinely feel like I am missing something given it’s significant cultural and critical acclaim.

2.0/5.0