Mystical utopian "cult classic" from the early 1970s which I found almost impossible to engage with, or enjoy much, except as a period piece. It has some worthy ideas. Worthy ideas, however, don't make a good read ...
Bryant is to be credited for taking the biggest problem with Utopian fiction, and facing it head on -- that, without conflict, without the worm in the apple, or the snake in the Garden of Eden, there really isn't any story. "The Kin of Ata ..." starts with trouble, and "the moment everything changes," as the thoroughly nasty Narrator murders his current girlfriend (one of a long line, that he clearly holds in the deepest contempt), and nearly kills himself in a half-baked attempt to escape the scene of the crime, and the consequences of his actions.
So far, so good! When the Narrator regains consciousness as the "guest" of an odd community of, well, weirdos, he has all kinds of explanations for where he is and how he got there, and, gradually, all kinds of self-centred and destructive plans for escape. For a while, he's the worm, the snake, and there's some conflict and it's not too bad (if, as narrated by the Narrator, a bit leaden).. And then, it all goes wrong as Narrator suddenly, inexplicably sees the light, "gets with the program," and quickly becomes one with The Kin.
And to be honest, that's when it hits the buffers of Utopian societies -- it's utterly boring. Think of the absolutely worst party you can imagine -- boring food, boring clothing, endless boring conversations about nothing in particular ... The guests occasionally hijacking proceedings to perform mindless ritualistic dances, or read their free-form poetry ... Yes, it's that bad. Conflict is so damped down among the Kin that, even when Nasty Narrator attempts to rape one of his hosts, all he gets are mildly cross looks. That'll teach you, Nasty Narrator!
But what really gets to me is the humourlessness of it all -- an absurd situation, in which no one is allowed to acknowledge or play with its absurdity: The Kin, we are told, are obsessed with their dreams, and endlessly compare notes on their dreams. But when (the gradually rehabilitated) Narrator tries to join in, "... I told her, 'I dream of apple pie and bogeymen.' She refused to laugh ... and when I laughed, she looked sad.
Yep, no one being allowed to joke about your Utopian community and its oh-so-serious dreams is a real turn-on.
I'm afraid Utopias, particularly this Utopia, are boring. Unless you're a big fan of spacy New Age conversations, and feeding each other mush with your fingers ...
Bryant is to be credited for taking the biggest problem with Utopian fiction, and facing it head on -- that, without conflict, without the worm in the apple, or the snake in the Garden of Eden, there really isn't any story. "The Kin of Ata ..." starts with trouble, and "the moment everything changes," as the thoroughly nasty Narrator murders his current girlfriend (one of a long line, that he clearly holds in the deepest contempt), and nearly kills himself in a half-baked attempt to escape the scene of the crime, and the consequences of his actions.
So far, so good! When the Narrator regains consciousness as the "guest" of an odd community of, well, weirdos, he has all kinds of explanations for where he is and how he got there, and, gradually, all kinds of self-centred and destructive plans for escape. For a while, he's the worm, the snake, and there's some conflict and it's not too bad (if, as narrated by the Narrator, a bit leaden).. And then, it all goes wrong as Narrator suddenly, inexplicably sees the light, "gets with the program," and quickly becomes one with The Kin.
And to be honest, that's when it hits the buffers of Utopian societies -- it's utterly boring. Think of the absolutely worst party you can imagine -- boring food, boring clothing, endless boring conversations about nothing in particular ... The guests occasionally hijacking proceedings to perform mindless ritualistic dances, or read their free-form poetry ... Yes, it's that bad. Conflict is so damped down among the Kin that, even when Nasty Narrator attempts to rape one of his hosts, all he gets are mildly cross looks. That'll teach you, Nasty Narrator!
But what really gets to me is the humourlessness of it all -- an absurd situation, in which no one is allowed to acknowledge or play with its absurdity: The Kin, we are told, are obsessed with their dreams, and endlessly compare notes on their dreams. But when (the gradually rehabilitated) Narrator tries to join in, "... I told her, 'I dream of apple pie and bogeymen.' She refused to laugh ... and when I laughed, she looked sad.
Yep, no one being allowed to joke about your Utopian community and its oh-so-serious dreams is a real turn-on.
I'm afraid Utopias, particularly this Utopia, are boring. Unless you're a big fan of spacy New Age conversations, and feeding each other mush with your fingers ...
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