Repeatedly in [Le Guin's] fiction we confront individuals who are of society and yet not quite a part of it. The outsider, the alien, the marginal man, adopts a vantage point with rather serious existential and philosophical implications. For Le Guin this marginality becomes a metaphor whose potency is fulfilled in a critical assessment of society. (p. 50)

The "chronic uprootedness," the disconnectedness, endows the protagonists with a vision that transcends that of the others around them, who see the world through culture-bound categories and characterizations. Yet theirs is not a happy plight. Their vision isolates them, while their attempts to promote understanding seem only to remove them further from their compatriots. Ultimately, despite her concern with utopias, Le Guin's view is not optimistic. It can be argued that her heroes' lack of success is due in fact to the failures of society—a failure to examine, to reappraise, and to change.

Le Guin squarely confronts the isolation and loneliness of her protagonists. Themes such as xenophobia, a suspicion and mistrust of all that is different, are developed in all her work, but reach a clear culmination in 1972 in ["The Word for World is Forest."] Here there is an explicit presentation of the heroes (Lyubov and Selver) as anthropologists in their roles as outsiders and translators. Consistently her portrayal is pessimistic. Such individuals suffer heartily. Abandoned, misread, and psychologically disoriented, they often sacrifice themselves or are sacrificed for their understanding. Yet often they represent the only hope.

Le Guin has, essentially, two modes for presenting her protagonists as outsiders: either they are true aliens (for example, Rocannon, Lyubov, Genly Ai, and Falk-Ramarren [City of Illusions]) or they are natives of a society, yet their perception of social life nevertheless sets them apart (for example, Shevek, Selver, Estraven [The Left Hand of Darkness], Jakob Agat [Planet of Exile], and George Orr [The Lathe of Heaven]). In either case, their problems, and more importantly their solutions, are of a similar nature. Their apartness precludes their complete membership in, or commitment to, any particular society. Yet their critical viewpoint gives them an insight into the nature of social relations that eludes their fellows.

[In Rocannon's World] we are presented with two important and consistent themes: the hero as observer and the tension, the mutual distrust, that so often prevails in intergroup relations. Here Rocannon is actually called an ethnographer, an investigator of hilfs, "high intelligence life forms." His approach and his dilemmas are distinctly anthropological in nature. It is apt that Rocannon is given a place, over his objections and disclaimers, in the local mythology. His name is "The Wanderer." He is no mere wanderer in geographical terms; he moves as well, and perhaps more fundamentally, in cultural space and time. His position is that of seeker, or questioner—an outsider, who, like all outsiders, sees two sides to all questions. Displaying the relativism, if not always the objectivity, that marks the discipline, he queries the motivations of the League, under those auspices his work is taking place. In pondering his affiliation with this organization, in the midst of strangers, his aloneness is only more evident…. (pp. 51-2)

[In Rocannon's] musings we see the true anthropological problem: he is a learner, not a teacher, and his acquired wisdom, whatever its bounds or limits, will be amassed, not applied….

His inability to convince one group of the worth of the other underlines the impotence and powerlessness of the outsider whose perspective can bridge otherwise culture-bound characterizations….

[In City of Illusions, Falk has] both to comprehend his surroundings and to overcome them. An amnesic interplanetary castaway, he is … dominated by the evil, mind-altering Shing. Although a true outsider, he is not a fearsome creature; rather, he is an individual whose insights force comprehension upon others. Unlike Rocannon, however, Falk has a self-awareness, a contemplativeness, and a scrutiny of personal motivations that we will see again in Shevek and Genly Ai…. Intensely aware of his solitariness, he realizes he is alone in the forest, alone on a planet where nothing is familiar to him and where he is familiar to no living being. (p. 53)

[Falk's] singularity is always emphasized. But intuitively he establishes relationships by seeking out commonalities, not by maintaining differences…. [For him] the difficulties of finding a dubious and elusive reality are paramount. He has to decide how his past experience colors his perceptions of his present condition…. [He] becomes a true participant observer. To survive, he must battle to separate two voices in his head. Falk, the identity achieved on this planet, resides simultaneously with his initial identity of Ramarren. His salvation lies in not forgetting either aspect of himself, while, at the same time, not permitting either personality to dominate or obliterate the other. (p. 54)

In City of Illusions and Rocannon's World, the theme of the outsider, who is both blessed and cursed in his attempts to understand the subtleties of social life, is presented. In addition, by offering the outsider as a contrast Le Guin challenges the parochialism and xenophobia so often characteristic of the insider's point of view. However, the inability to fit in, the unwillingness to accept the world as it is rather than as it might be, can be equally true for insiders. In [The Left Hand of Darkness] Le Guin explores alienation from both angles. Genly Ai is the alien ambassador to the planet Winter. Estraven, a native of Winter, has surmounted the ethnocentrism of his society. The extreme solitariness of both positions is mitigated as they come to discover a fellowship and camaraderie that exceeds, at least in intellectual force, the kind of bond that binds them to their own kind….

[Genly Ai] has more to do than merely understand the multiple dimensions of the Gethenian adaptations: he has to confront the political and social disruption his presence occasions. He must examine his initial inability to accept their ambisexuality and, in doing so, he has the quite humbling experience of seeing himself through their eyes—a pervert. Le Guin thus illustrates the development of cultural relativism by permitting the reader to witness the maturing of the ethnographer. (p. 55)

[Ai's] pomposity at [the] early stage of the book contrasts with his later humanity, while his early ignorance becomes apparent only as his wisdom increases….

Only when Ai transcends his own discomfort and looks about him, does he turn both inward to examine himself and outward to appreciate the hitherto unnoticed strength of Estraven. As much as xenophobia in all respects is a major subject of this novel, so too is the developing relationship between the two protagonists. (p. 56)

Shevek, the protagonist of DIS [The Dispossessed], finds, despite his anarchist ideals, the sameness of Anarres stultifying. In Shevek the insider's and the outsider's points of view are examined as we witness the development of his disenchantment with his native Anarres and his horror as he comes to understand Urras. Rather than presenting us with two individuals who view a similar situation differently, Le Guin now gives us two different situations as seen through the eyes of one individual. In both locales, however, Shevek remains a skeptical freethinker. In this instance, Le Guin examines another aspect of the problem that the individual faces in learning to come to terms with his society, namely, the moral responsibility of the citizen to the social order…. [Here, however,] the individual has a responsibility to himself and his ideals which often places him in a somewhat paradoxical situation if the two conflict. This is precisely the kind of conflict with which so many of Le Guin's heroes are confronted. They share commitments to at least two ideals and are often unable fully to realize either. Like so many of her other characters, Shevek is a powerful observer because he is an impotent participant. (pp. 60-1)

The theme of hero as translator and social commentator is more highly developed in WWF. But the pessimism evident in DIS is to be found here even more dramatically. For although the reader's sympathies are clearly with Lyubov and Selver, it is Davidson's view of the world which will prevail….

In Davidson, Lyubov, and Selver, Le Guin presents us with three different views of the same situation—the colonization and brutalization of the Athsheans and their world. Here too she explores in her most explicit manner the consequences of xenophobia. As in LHD, her heroes achieve a resolution: they have discovered that difference does not imply opposition, but leads, instead, to a new, more complex, relationship. Her point is more strongly made here, for the humanism of Lyubov is contrasted with the narrow, pedantic self-righteousness of Davidson. (pp. 62-3)

Selver and Lyubov strive to instruct one another in the ways of their respective cultures. Although each emerges with a new respect and understanding of the other, they, like Shevek, reach an impasse when they try to communicate this. The balance, a crucial theme in Le Guin's works, is irreparably damaged: Davidson and his cohorts distort and destroy the natural equilibrium, while the Athsheans, in learning to fathom and commit murder, are no longer in psychological harmony. (p. 63)

Lyubov is doomed: separated from his fellows, quarantined by the Athsheans, he ultimately is fatally wounded in the foray that results. Selver is transformed in a moral sense: the forest is returned to the Athsheans, but at a price that only Selver can realize. There has been no victory here. Though the humans retreat, we see barely a glimpse of redemption.

In the final analysis, however, Le Guin's anthropologist-outsiders have the edge over their fellows. For all their solitariness, their convictions are strengthened by their ordeals. They are no longer mystified by differences. They can grant humanity to others because they cease to glorify or stigmatize that which is not immediately comprehensible. The irony is that in their realization that opposition does not necessarily imply impenetrable boundaries, they erect barriers between themselves and their society. Because they recognize that the task of understanding is not impossible, they contribute to their own isolation. Their perception of balance is an appreciation of differences. And it is here that the paradox ultimately resides; for if there is an aloneness in the chaos of social life, there is even greater solitariness once order is achieved. (pp. 64-5)