Trouble in Paradise:The Twentieth-Century Utopian Ideai

JUDITH L. FISHER

• From Plato's republic to Orwell's Oceania, Utopias have centered hu-manity's future in the city and the machine—either the collective humanmachine serving the social organism or the machine of iron and steel serv-ing the individual. But countering this somewhat bleak tradition is thefreer, more aesthetically pleasing, pastoral Utopia such as the Garden ofEden. Traditionally, urban Utopias tend to be ethical and material reforma-tions of existing societies while true pastoral Utopias tend toward escapismand hedonism. Although the human machine figures in Sir Thomas More'spastoral Utopia, which most of us read today as less than idyllic, usually thepastoral Utopia avoids mechanization and technology by limiting its com-munities to small communes as did the Shakers, Fourier's experiments,and Brookfield Farm. By its nature, the pastoral Utopia demands an indi-vidual freedom which encourages creativity, as do the attendant qualitiesof simplicity and integration with nature. However, the potential psycho-logical tensions spawned by such an ingrown society could often disrupt itspeaceful operation as Nathaniel Hawthorne demonstrates in BlithedaleRomance.

Then, too, the Industrial Revolution brought the machine and the city tostay. Technology, either as an ogre or an angel, is a factor which twentieth-century Utopian writers can never ignore. The proliferation of our Age ofSteel and Science leads naturally into the modern dystopia, especially afterWorld War I violently demonstrated the machine's destructive potential.In Eugene Zamiatin's We, Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, Ira Levin'sThis Perfect Day, mankind is again mechanized, yet with this difference:the human machine now exists only to serve a larger machine, whether it bethe Well-Doer, the World State, or Uni. As Lewis Mumford has observed,the urban Utopia ofthe twentieth century is static, rigidified, standardized,

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militarized, and isolated.' In this peaceful, but boring, Utopia, individual-ism and creativity are lost. The individual submits to the state in order tomaintain the Machine, and thus has neither time nor freedom to create.The Machine has neither existence nor creative ability; it simply runs. Thegreatest dilemma of this traditional Utopia is that the process which createsit automatically destroys human freedom. Thus arises the fear of Utopiawhich Robert Elliot sees as a "compulsive" theme in modern literature.^

The logical literary result is to combine the urban and pastoral Utopia; totake the best of both worlds and let technology create freedom instead ofslavery. The aesthetics of the pastoral Utopia should solve the problemscaused by the very efficiency ofthe urban/technological Utopia: what to dowith all the leisure time? As George Kateb points out, the combination ofabundance and leisure creates great opportunity for action which contra-dicts the rigidity of traditional Utopian planning.^ Consequently, our ideasof work and play must be redefined to transform play as escape from thebusiness of life, to life as Play. While Kateb postulates a return to the "con-templative life" and a cultivation of the "higher pleasures," we must alsoadd the development of the more esoteric "soft" sciences, especially pureabstract reasoning, psychology, and parapsychology, emphasized by mod-ern Utopian writers. These sciences present a "new frontier" and a chal-lenge which many writers feel is a necessary condition for continued humancreativity. Thus, while machines do the dirty work, people sit, like Mr. Kaiin his crystal cave, "listening to his book" {The Martian Chronicles).

But the application of this idyllic synthesis is not so simple. C. S. Lewis'Out ofthe Silent Planet and Perelandra (1944), Isaac Asimov's SecondFoundation (1966), Robert Heinlein's Moon is a Harsh Mistress (1969),and Ursula Le Guin's The Dispossessed (1974) all deal with the traditionalproblem of reconciling the individual to the state and man to his machine,and in no case is there a comfortable solution. Although all these novelscontrast urban, pastoral, and pastoral/technological Utopias in some vari-ation, the process provides fewer answers as time goes by. Lewis is muchmore certain than Le Guin of where his Utopia lies.

Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra are the most limited of thisgroup in their synthesis ofthe urban and pastoral Utopias.'»Although Lewiswas concerned more with a process of faith than a process of government,his "deep space trilogy" emphasizes the very element that Asimov and LeGuin find essential: the transcendence of the individual over conventionallimits, in Lewis' case a triumph of faith which leads to an individual's unionwith the Cosmos. Ransom's successful spiritual union is an individualstruggle and automatically results in a system of behavior which makes"rules" and government superfluous. Anarchy is also the basis ofthe Sec-ond Foundation, Luna, and Anarres, although Lewis' "faith" becomesprogressively less mystical and more humanistic.

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Lewis' first step is to reject science and replace it with communication.Even though Weston and his machine are the means by which Ransom canget to Malacandra (Mars) in the first place and thus even have a chance forhis transformation, in Perelandra Weston is, literally, possessed by thedevil, and Ransom is transported to Perelandra (Venus) through the officesof the eldils. Ransom, the philologist, relies on language, while Westonrelies on mechanical weapons and objects as bribes (a classic confrontationbetween "soft" and "hard" sciences). The inadequacy ofthe physical scien-tist is demonstrated on Malacandra when Ransom tries to translate Wes-ton's threats and bribes for the Oyarsa. Weston's tirade about racial great-ness degenerates into sophomoric threats. Old Solar is the only languageoutside Earth, and, when he has learned it. Ransom has the key to hissalvation, for he can use it to unify himself with Maleldil (God) through theCosmos' other inhabitants, the sorns, the hrossa, iht pfifltriggi, and Ladyand the King. Words are especially important on Perelandra where Ran-som and Weston battle each other verbally for spiritual possession of theLady. But, finally, they must use force with each other because the BentOne (the Devil) has turned language on Earth into a fraud.

Lewis directs what little physical technology there is on Malacandra(Perelandra has none) toward aesthetic ends, for despite the fact that thepfifltriggi are technicians and create everything the sorns think of, they areprimarily artists who record the history ofthe planet in sculpture. They andthe other hnau, or rational beings of Malacandra, divide the three aspectsof life: the sorns are the meditators and thinkers, the hrossa are the poetsand hunters, and the pfifltriggi are the craftsmen; thus each species com-bines its vocation with its avocation, living as Play. Malacandra is agricul-tural, without government, except for the minimal guidance ofthe Oyarsa.Perelandra is even less "organized," for the Queen Lady and the King live inphysical splendor with the animals as their companions. Murder, theft, anyviolence against their kind is unknown on either planet, because all thespecies' desires are fulfilled, and they have never learned to want more thanis necessary.

Ransom's progress toward "salvation" is just this ridding himself of hisunnatural appetites—desires for complete possession. He must learn todepend on Maleldil instead of himself; paradoxically, it is this submissionto Maleldil and the Cosmic whole which brings true freedom, not onlyfrom the technological trap, but also from the impulse to possession: greed,desire, and habit. These impulses are distorted by humanity's artificial so-ciety to become ends in themselves; not a means of enjoyment, but a meansof "having." Once out of Earth's material society. Ransom tries applyingearthly standards to an extra-earthly pleasure, and his "natural" desire sub-jugates his artificially exaggerated desire.' Material desires. Ransom finds,are a form of enslavement: if one is only intent upon satisfying one's desires

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by physical experience and material possession, one can never transcendone's physicality (thus oneself) to enjoy things of the spirit (thus any spirit-ual union). Ransom's earthly tendency to repeat physical acts beyond sa-tiety acts against his salvation because it allows the physical to overpowerthe spiritual. But on Earth no spiritual barrier saves one from burial in thematerial, while on Perelandra Ransom cannot act independently.* He dis-covers the "environment of minds . . . where the Universe is one—a spi-der's web wherein each mind lives along every line" (p. 201). The Utopia ofEarth, mechanized, independent, determined to pursue racial greatness,has thrust aside the cosmic union. The desire to possess, manifested in thedesire to repeat an experience, to hold it, is the desire to be "fixed," to knowwhat will come each day and to command it. This is the true evil, symbol-ized by the technological Utopia, because one should give oneself up toMaleldil and not try to "own" anything. A striking similarity exists betweenLewis' insistence on nonpossession and, as we shall see, Le Guin's. Human-ity's attempts to fend for itself have only trapped it, first in possessions andsecondly in the overpowering fear of death. Without Maleldil's assurance,death can only be the Unknown to man. Life as well as death is a giftaccording to the King in Perelandra, and since one does not own anything,even oneself, one can never be afraid of losing it.

Science and technology become, for Lewis, the symbol of the wrongpath, exemplifed in Weston's racial megalomania. But his vision willfullyrepudiates what cannot be repudiated. Ransom may have found his salva-tion in his union with Maleldil, but even in This Hideous Strength he can-not save all of mankind. How can one force others to accept a peculiarlyindividual process? Asimov's answer is that you sneak up on them, for thatis exactly what the Second Foundation proposes to do to the First Founda-tion.' Asimov, like Lewis, sees the individual transcending himself, butthrough the less occult tool of psychology. The superiority ofthe pastoralUtopia based on psychology (Second Foundation) is clearly emphasized inAsimov's contrast between the urban/technological society and the psy-chological/pastoral society. Asimov's industrialized Utopia classifies itselfas a dead-end by its name: Terminus, which in Latin means both the begin-ning point and the ending point. The Foundationers, as they call them-selves, embody the "utopian temperament . . . allowing the great end tosanction the most objectionable means."^ Deception and ruthlessness arethe means and the end is the Seldon Plan, both Foundations' "ManifestDestiny," which predicts by means of psychohistory that the two Founda-tions will join in a galactic empire in one thousand years.' Smug in itsassured future. Foundation I buries itself in physical science and material-ism. Mankind in the First Foundation lives an organized life as part of aState.

The Second Foundationer's technology, psychohistory, is a "pure"

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science, without the trappings of physical science. It is basically a form ofmass psychological analysis and projection so highly developed in the indi-vidual members of Foundation II that they are telepathic. Their mentalscience resembles the contemplative life, the merging of work and play tocreate the "new" reality vital to a successful Utopia. Symbolically, Founda-tion II is built on the ruins of Trantor, the capital planet ofthe former greatindustrial Empire; this entire planet was a city in the Old Empire, devotedentirely to administration and bureaucracy—the ultimate image of urbanexpansion. Terminus resembles Trantor on a much smaller scale: on bothone needs passports and identity cards; and, because the bureaucratic citiesare too large to be self-sufficient, other members of the social organismexist only to supply and serve the urban center. But, the Second Founda-tion is an agricultural anarchy. Its people belong to the common super-being created by their telepathic communication, and the Seldon Planorders their lives, making law unnecessary.

Even though Foundation II combines the technological and pastoralUtopia, the Trilogy moves toward a greater synthesis of the urban andpastoral—the union of the two Foundations. The final Utopia will beFoundation I ruled by Foundation II. The First Speaker, or nominalleader, of Foundation II outlines the goal succinctly: "the First Foundationsupplies the physical framework of a single political unit, and the SecondFoundation supplies the mental framework of a ready-made ruling class"(Second Foundation, p. 92). Thus psychohistory, the science of predictingand shaping mass action, is being used by Foundation II to make Founda-tion I ready for its rule.

This visionary union, the material state guided by the mental state, (tostagnation?), collapses in Foundation's Edge,^^ the most recent volume inthe series, which reiterates the dichotomy between a pastoral and a techno-logical Utopia. Midway through the Interregnum (the time of the novel),the pastoral/technological synthesis of Trantor has rigidified. Maintainingthe plan has replaced creatively adapting it, and the Second Foundationers'psychic powers are as much a technology and a weapon as the sleek ships ofthe Foundation. The once self-effacing "farmers" live entirely in the ruinsofthe Trantor library, ostracize the genuine farmers, think of themselves as"Trantorians" after the city-planet, and are known to the farmers as "schol-ars" ("scowlers" in their dialect) (Edge, pp. 104-105).

The two Foundations are saved from violent collision by Gaia—an ex-treme version ofthe pastoral/ psychological Utopia. "The whole planet andeverything on it is Gaia. We're all individuals—we're all separate organisms—but we all share an overall conscious" which includes the vegetable andmineral life as well as the animals (Edge, p. 300). Such equality meanspeaceful coexistence in an anarchy. More powerful than either Founda-tion, Gaia has no cities, only "people-groupings" (p. 299), and its goal is the

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Galaxy as a group of similar planet-consciousnesses; life as life is importantto Gaia. However, the conclusion oi Foundation's Edge suggests that thispastoral paradise was itself "constructed" by robots so that it could developorganically.

Can a pastoral Utopia be artificially constructed? Or will such a society,even if it combines technology with the pastoral, inevitably stagnate be-cause it is a machine construct? Heinlein and Le Guin both deal with theseproblems. Heinlein's Moon is a Harsh Mistress, like Lewis' and Asimov'sUtopias, starts with an anarchy, but an involuntary one." The moon is apenal colony and except for the Warden, "Mort the Wart," who stays hid-den in his palace, no government exists—as in any present-day prison. Thesix-fold difference in gravity between Luna and Earth increases the moon'sisolation, because it is almost impossible to adjust to the Earth's weightafter being on Luna more than six months. The "Lunies," forced to rulethemselves, lead surprisingly peaceful lives without laws.

We don't have laws. . . . Never been allowed to. Have customs but aren't writ-ten and aren't enforced—or could say they are self-enforcing because are simplyway things have to be, conditions being what they are. Could say our customsare natural laws because are way people have to behave to stay alive (Moon, p.123).

The "conditions" which dictate the moon's customs are the shortage ofwomen and the extraordinary toughness of a predominantly criminal pop-ulation. The first gives females total freedom and makes men protective butnot restrictive—the woman can do whatever she wants, but if someonethreatens her, the man or men will step in—violently. The second conditionforces people to be considerate for no one hesitates to use force to revenge aslight. In fact, the anarchy of Heinlein's Luna results in a peaceful, politeplanet. In effect, Heinlein has taken away mankind's dependence on the"state" to provide for and protect him, thus forcing him to take responsibil-ity for his own acts.

What government exists on Luna is, as on the other pastoral Utopias,organic: a class system which grows organically out of the lifestyle of thepeople, not, as in the urban Utopia, externally imposed by artifical eco-nomic standards or industrial needs. The ordering class system ofthe moonis simply marriage. Marriage is group marriage, either by line or clan, and itidentifies the individual. Mannie O'Kelly Garcia Davis, the narrator, is in ahigher class as part ofthe stable Davis line marriage than the "Stilyagi"—young men who have not been opted by a marriage group.

The Davis family business, like most ofthe family businesses on Luna, isfarming, although individual members of the family may branch out intopersonal trades (Mannie is a computer repair person, and one ofhis wives,Sidris, runs the "Bon Ton Beaut6 Shoppe"). In fact, the moon's basic func-334

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tion is farming and trading its products with Earth. The unusual aspectabout this pastoral economy is that it is chemically and industrially pro-duced. Air and water must be manufactured, and everything from sewageto corpses is reprocessed. This is a unique synthesis ofthe pastoral and tech-nological, made more unified by the fact that the Lunies live and work inunderground cities, Luna, Hong Kong, and Tyche Under. The familyhomes blur the distinction between natural and artifical environments evenmore by being vast networks of tunnels called warrens.

Heinlein approaches the confiict between the individual and the rulingmachine more concretely than simply merging the pastoral and urban Uto-pias or abandoning technology. While Luna is indeed "ruled" by a ma-chine, a "High-Optional, Logical, Multi-Evaluating Supervisor, Mark Iv,Mod. L.—a HOLMES FOUR," whose metal tentacles control the airflow,utilities, subways, defense, lighting, and everything else, the HOLMESFOUR is also Mike—a computer with so many cells that it "woke up" andto all intents is alive. Mike is an individual, fascinated by human humor,subject to caprices and fits of temper. He engineers Luna's revolution for awhim, and after the revolution, when Luna is independent of Earth, Mikeconveniently lapses from his sentience into the subservient HOLMESFour. Thus when Mike is in the position where he can gain real power overLuna because the revolutionaries are so dependent on him, Heinlein "kills"him, forcing the Lunies to rely on themselves and eliminating the threat ofmachine dominance. There is a hint, however, at the end of Moon, that thispastoral/technological Utopia can be rigidified even without Mike, by thecollective human machine which has a "deep instinct . . . for making ev-erything compulsory that isn't forbidden" (Moon, p. 287). The questionalso arises of what will happen to the high standards of behavior in thisanarchy when as time passes females become more numerous and succeed-ing generations do not have the tough criminal backgrounds? The mooncould gradually become more Earth-like, a condition Heinlein obviouslydoes not favor.

The anarchy and individualism ofthe Lunies clearly contrast to the over-governed inhabitants of earth. While Earth looks inviting (there are stilltrees, animals, and one doesn't have to live underground), it is overpopu-lated, overused, and no longer self-sufficient. Mannie and the professor arejust as incapacitated by Earth's rules and regulations on their visit as by thesix-fold increase in gravity. Earth considers the Lunies to be barbarians,but Earthlings are the ones always on the verge of war, stifled by meaning-less prejudices, and unable to leave their doors unlocked. While Heinlein'sUtopia may not be ideal, the humor and pragmatism which color it in addi-tion to the tangible benefits—longer life expectancy, no rules, physicalsafety, riacial equality, and general vitality—demonstrate Luna's su-periority.

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Imperfection in some cases can also generate stagnation as Le Guinshows in The Dispossessed—a Utopian novel which foresees no mil-lenium.'2 Le Guin dramatizes the confiict between the realization that a"modern Utopia has to be scientific and must be erected on a fairly rigidsystem of functional classes . . . and . . . the deeply engrained liberaldesire for individual freedom, equality, and personal dignity."'^ The planetAnarres is a planned Utopian society, peopled by voluntary exiles from thehomeworld, Urras, which is physically beautiful like Earth, but marred byurbanization, over-industrialization, and the sin of "possessing"; the Ur-rasti are "propertarians." Anarres, in contrast, is, like Luna, an arid desert,but the barrenness of the world gives the Anarresti freedom to create theirsociety on any principles they wish. Spurred by the teachings of Odo, theirfounder, the Anarresti create an anarchy specifically designed to solve theconfiict of interest between the individual and the machine of the state.

Anarres relies on computerized scientific planning to not only build theUtopia, but also to abolish any rigid construction within the society, organ-izing Anarres "in such a way that organization is no longer necessary."'''Because mankind is opinionated, biased, and prone to illogic, the Anarrestileave all major decisions about the nature of their society to the computer.Pravic, their language, is designed by the computer, each person's uniquename is "created" by the computer, and the computer arranges work post-ings. But to avoid machine dominance each Anarresti is theoretically al-lowed to ignore his or her posting, but, equally theoretically, will not do so,for they who do not work, do not eat.

The synthesis of the pastoral and technological is so complete onAnarres that the distinction between pastoral and urban blurs. Odo had"no intention of trying to de-urbanize civilization" (Dispossessed, p. 77),but the uncontrollable sprawl of the Trantor-like town—Nio Esseia onUrras—is limited on Anarres by the town's dependence on the surroundingregion for essential energy and food, so that an urban minority does notdrain the entire country. This insistence on self-sufficiency is an elementalpart of Anarres, for the individual is to be as self-sufficient as the cities.Every Anarresti voluntarily performs basic subsistence tasks from farmingto processing excrement while developing more "abstract" mental powersor pursuing individual talents.

Like Foundation II, Anarres has tried to merge work with play. Shevek,the protagonist, is a physicist, but his "work" is also his recreation. Hisinterims of physical labor are only different forms of work/ play. Even thewords work and play are the same in Pravic, and this identification has a"strong ethical significance" because one's "work" must cooperate withothers' in order to make the society function.

This ideal Anarresti Utopia breaks down, however, primarily because ofthe inherent tendency of Utopias to rigidify. Anarres' successful anarchy

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was conceived as a permanent state of revolution, but it creeps toward acentralized bureaucracy when public opinion lets the Planning Committeebecome a "Government." Like the Lunies, the Anarresti have a human ten-dency to merge with the herd and let others make decisions and take re-sponsibility. The plight of Shevek illustrates the process, for by being a trueOdonian and pursuing his individual work, Shevek isolates himself fromhis society, especially when he develops a valuable formula and refuses touse it for Anarres' political/ military purposes; only a "State" can have na-tional politics and militaries. The various committees and the "public"begin to decide what books will be published and what knowledge will beused for what purpose, even to manipulating the computer to "punish"recalcitrant Odonians like Shevek with undesirable work postings. OnAnarres, resistance to change (thus to revolution) turns the society into adystopia; the originally freeing elements, public opinion and social con-science, become the suppressive elements: "We've let cooperation becomeobedience. On Urras they have government by the minority. Here we havegovernment by the majority. But it is government! The social conscienceisn't a living thing any more, but a machine, a power machine, controlledby bureaucrats" (Dispossessed, p. 135).

When refusal to change creates the collective human machine, then gov-ernment is inevitable. But in contrast to Urras, Anarres does succeed increating an egalitarian society by forbidding possession of any kind, mate-rial or emotional. Le Guin extends Lewis' condemnation of spiritual greedto cover the empirical world as well. Shevek encounters a "possessing"society on Urras; he cannot help feeling that the glittering society of ownershe first encounters in Nio Esseia is unreal. His vague feeling concretizeswhen he wanders into the world ofthe workers. Nio Esseia is sharply dichot-omized into the world of the owners and the workers who own little. Thebasic inequality is that the wealth ofthe upper classes is unearned; they onlyknow the having, not the creating. Consequently, the Urrasti create theirown particular jail through their need for possessions. Each person isowned and defined by his or her "things." Status and power within thestate, too, is also a matter of owning—wealth and people. The absence ofthis prison which imprisons the jailers makes Anarres truly a Utopia be-cause individuals like Shevek can always start the revolution anew.

The ultimate potential ofthe Anarresti society, and ofthe pastoral/tech-nological Utopia in general, is the spiritual freedom which partly manifestsitself in "not-having," in finding one's fulfillment in doing. Ransom, theLunies, Shevek, and the Second Foundationers have all, to differing de-grees, rid themselves of depending on machines to do their work for them,while creating a different kind of "work," which uses heretofore ignoredpotentials ofthe human mind. But the dark side ofthe pastoral/technolog-ical Utopia is still imprisonment—self imprisonment. It is no longer a threat

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that mankind will be dominated by the machine or state; rather the dangeris that mankind will imprison itself by choosing to infiict needless rulesupon itself (the Lunies), subjugating itself to a scientifically designed planfor mankind (the Second Foundationers), submitting to public opinion,thus giving up free will (the Anarresti), and finally binding itself by its ownneed to possess and dominate (humanity in the Deep Space Trilogy).Anarchy is one answer to this tendency, but in itself, as we have seen, isinsufficient, because it must be constantly renewed and reaffirmed.

But the synthesis ofthe pastoral and technological Utopia enables a peo-ple to extend the possible boundaries of Utopia, creating Utopia as a mentalstate rather than a physical condition—compare the aridity of both Lunaand Anarres with their potential for spiritual freedom. Technology be-comes less threatening to the success of a Utopia than humanity's own na-ture in these later science fiction Utopias when compared to Brave NewWorld or We. Lewis' view of the machine-as-ogre metamorphoses into avision of a neutral machine—made imprisoning or releasing according tothe nature of those who use it. Thus the traditional Utopian vision whichpromises happiness through material and physical well-being (one thinkso{ Looking Backward) gives way to a new optimism, necessary after man-kind has learned how destructive the lure ofthe machine can be. Instead ofstriving for a static state of "happiness," these authors, at least, find ourUtopia in a constant, creative assertion of freedom.

Notes

1. Lewis Mumford, "Utopia, the City, and the Machine," Utopias and Utopian Thought, eA.Frank Manuel (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1966), p. 9.

2. Robert Elliot, The Shape of Utopia (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1970), p. 82.3. "Utopia and the Good Life," in Manuel, p. 239.4. C. S. Lewis, Out ofthe Silent Planet and Perelandra (1944; rpt. New York: Macmillan,

1975). All quotations will be taken from these editions.5. Perelandra: "As he let the empty gourd fall from his hand and was about to pluck a second

one, it came into his head that he was now neither hungry nor thirsty. And yet to repeat apleasure . . . seemed an obvious thing to do. His reason, or what we commonly take tobe reason in our own world, was all in favor of tasting this miracle again. . . . he stoodpondering over this and wondering how often in his life on earth he had reiterated plea-sures not through desire, but in the teeth ofdesire and in obedience to a spurious rational-ism" (pp. 42-43).

6. See, for example, Perelandra, p. 72.7. Isaac Asimov, Second Foundation (New York: Avon Books, 1966). All quotations will be

taken from this edition.8. Elliot, p. 51.9. David Ketterer emphasizes the "transcendental" vision behind the millennium goal in

historical and contemporary Utopias. New Worlds for OW (Bloomington, Ind.: IndianaUniv. Press, 1974), pp. 101-02.

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10. Isaac Asimov, Foundation's Edge (New York: Doubleday, 1982). All quotations will betaken from this edition, hereafter cited as Edge in the text.

11. Robert A. Heinlein, Moon is a Harsh Mistress (\9e'i\ rpt. London: New English Library,1971). All quotations will be taken from this text, hereafter cited as Moon.

12. Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed (New York: Avon Books, 1974). All quotations willbe taken from this edition.

13. Richard Gerber, Utopian Fantasy (1955; rpt. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1973), p. 67.14. Gerber, p. 47.

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