Alicia Costello

The Fight Between Ideas and Mindless Entertainment

Ernest Callenbach’s novel Ecotopia cannot be found on many college syllabi. It is often buried in the corner of Barnes and Noble. Selling back my copy of the book got me all of $1.50. That being said, Ecotopia was easily the best fiction of the novels we read.  After the confusion of Utopia, the monotony of Looking Backward, the flat characters of Herland, and the obviously propagandist Anthem, Ecotopia was a breath of fresh air.  As I outlined in my first essay, a close focus on the traveler in a utopian novel is imperative to understanding the novel as a whole, so this essay will study William Weston to explore the frustrations and pleasures of utopian fiction.

One important aspect of Weston’s character is that he is the only traveler of the five major texts that has some pre-judgment, some rumors, at least, of what Ecotopia is like.  Nevertheless, as much as he has previously learned about Ecotopia, he must unlearn it all once he gets there.  Callenbach incorporates this aspect because he knows his audience: those who have heard of, but who are not completely sold on the idea of changing their ways of life in order to accommodate the environment.  While the other authors want to surprise their readers with an entirely new way of life, Callenbach wants to show readers it’s okay to care about the environment.  Callenbach’s novel is also more personal—while the other novels intend to create drama through the idea of a new government, Weston seems to take Ecotopia’s infrastructure in stride, having difficulties with the people of Ecotopia instead.  Marissa, his primary source of drama, is a personification of Ecotopia’s cultural norms and passion.  Slowly but surely, utopian novels are becoming less like a government outline, more like a person-based narrative.  Utopian fiction is far behind other novels in this regard, but this is getting better.  This narrative saves Ecotopia from other, earlier government outlines such as Looking Backward. Incidentally, Bellamy attempts the dual women paradox Ecotopia highlights, but it is only in the background, an illustration of the main story.  In Ecotopia, this is switched.  Likewise, in Herland, the strong and fun Ellador embodies her utopia’s ideals, and as readily as Van takes a liking to her, he also likes the utopia.  However, Ellador is a frustratingly static character.  In Callenbach’s story, both of the main characters are more dynamic than the rest.  Callenbach’s more personal story allows for what utopian novels have been robbing their readers for centuries: personal connection to the story.  We don’t understand Marissa, either, but as surely as she mystifies Weston, she casts a spell on us, too.

Weston’s narrative also has frustrating parts. In Objective 2c, the tensions between the social theory and fictional narrative are highlighted.  As utopian literature is a literature of ideas, the fictional narrative is still not up to the par of most other novels.  This is the first reason Ecotopia is not taught in most grad seminars: Callenbach ain’t Shakespeare.  Sadly, in any utopian fiction, the author’s priority is to outline a social theory, so this aspect is usually the most well-thought-out part of the text.  The author’s narrative only serves to deliver the social theory.  With the narrative so far down the author’s list of concerns, it is no wonder the fiction is so bad.  That being said, the literature major’s concern is the art of fiction.  If the author could not be bothered to make the fiction a priority, why should we?  Callenbach’s fiction is the best of the bunch, but it is still nowhere near the artistry in the syllabi of most grad seminars.  Weston is a nicely well-rounded character.  We understand his reaction to conflict, in him, we see our own cultural foibles.  However, he is not as great a character as, let’s say, Stephen Dedalus.  If literature majors are to study the art that is fiction, they must attend to the best; they must become connoisseurs.  Perhaps we think Callenbach’s novel better simply because it recognizes the tensions between the social theory and the personal narrative, and it splits them.  Because the novel is set into two forms—the journal, the personal narrative and the column, the social theory—we do not expect the two to be one story, where in earlier stories, we did.  Perhaps the one thing that saves this novel is the italics.  When Callenbach separates parts, we expect the separation.  We are mentally ready for it.

This tension is unique to utopian fiction.  The author of a utopian fiction must first be a social theorist, second a compelling storyteller.  The reader is pleasantly surprised with taking away many real-life ideas to think about during the course of the day, but often left with a lacking narrative. Through the fiction novel, the author engages us to look inside ourselves to evaluate our values and, through the utopian values, suggests alternatives.  The readers who seek to understand themselves will be satisfied; the readers who seek a great story can pick up a Stephen King instead.  His new novel is great.