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language: English
country: USA
year: 1967/1968
form: novel
genre(s): science fiction
series: Dragonriders of Pern, #1
dates read: 1.8.13, 17.6.18-19.6.18, 26.6.23-27.6.23
Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonflight, the first book in her long-running science fiction series Dragonriders of Pern, was the first work by a woman to win a Hugo Award — for “Weyr Search”, the novella that became the first section of the novel, in 1968 — or a Nebula Award — for “Dragonrider”, the novella that became the second and third sections of the novel, in 1969. it is, all other things aside, certainly of literary-historical interest both for this and because Pern was an extremely popular and best-selling series that still has an active — if niche — fandom. it’s notable for many reasons, including early sympathetic portrayals of gay and bi men (some of these are present in Dragonflight but there’s no explicit discussion of homosexuality or sex between men until the second book, Dragonquest, just an oblique reference to “unnatural lusts” as a prejudice against dragonriders). Pern’s influence, direct or indirect, is everywhere in science fiction and fantasy, although more pronouncedly in fantasy — the dragons of Delany’s Return to Nevèrÿon, perhaps most notably the multicolored dragons of D&D, the telepathically-bonded animal companions of so many books, …
I have been obsessed with these books since I was a child, and my boyfriend was generous enough to let me inflict Dragonflight on him in audiobook form while we did a bunch of driving this weekend; I’ve listened to it as background noise many, many more times than the mere three rereads I have marked on Storygraph (including this one), but it’s been five years (apparently) since the last time I gave it my full attention, so I figured I’d count it as an actual reread and write a review.
the “basic” premise is complicated: basically, a planet colonized by humans thousands of years ago is periodically attacked by an alien organism from a rogue planet in its system, which consumes everything organic with which it comes into contact. the colonists genetically engineer a local life-form to create the titular dragons, which permanently telepathically bond with their riders and burn the organism, Thread, out of the sky. over the centuries/millennia, the people of Pern have forgotten much of their history; the novel begins at the end of an unusually long “Interval” — a gap between attacks by Thread — of four hundred years, when the population of dragonriders has radically declined — with only a single fertile female dragon remaining — and few believe that Thread will return. the true believers — the proud and independent gold dragonrider Lessa and the equally proud and at times dictatorial bronze dragonrider F’lar have to prepare themselves and the whole world for this imminent incursion.
let’s start with the bad: the gender and sexual politics of this book and, indeed, of the series as a whole are truly atrocious. the central relationship of this book, between Lessa and F’lar, is fundamentally premised on (admitted!) sexual violence and patriarchal dominance. even at the end of the book, when — according to some incomprehensible Pern criticism — the two have arrived at a new model of an equitable heterosexual partnership, F’lar still sees Lessa clearly as, first and foremost, an object whose emotions he recognizes and whose contributions he will accept but over which nonetheless he rightfully should have control and whose behavior he has both a right and a responsibility to manage. that’s not an equitable heterosexual partnership, actually; that’s just patriarchy masquerading as “benevolent” tolerance of women’s foibles. F’lar is just awful, and (as Harlan Ellison, in his unexpectedly very positive review, rightly pointed out) often implausibly so. the narrative’s handling of his and Lessa’s relationship is frustrating because even when Lessa is objectively in the right, it will still — including through Lessa’s perspective — validate F’lar. I think the book is very good in spite of this, but this is a VERY big caveat.
the writing is a bit messy, though it’s better (and better-edited) than some recent specfic I’ve read from big 5 publishers. the prose tends towards purple, although I also find that aspect of it endearing, even if sometimes I think it would benefit from a sparer style. there are some continuity errors — a reference to “high tides” at Telgar, an inland Hold, e.g. but these are relatively minor — it’s the gender politics that are the biggest issue here.
let’s talk about the good; there’s a lot of it. the lot of it is, mainly, in the series’s handling of world-building: throughout the series, including already here in Dragonflight, McCaffrey is always attentive to the economic structures of her world — if you don’t know who made dinner (and often you do), you always know where the food came from, how it got to where it’s being eaten, and how food distribution fits into the broader libertarian-feudal economy of Pern. this — and a range of other similar kinds of detail about the material structures of Pernese society — create an extremely convincing and immersive world, whose distinct material and phenomenological contours feel markedly different from our present world in ways that are in line with the society Pern represents. it is, in Darko Suvin’s terms, very much a society and not simply a world.
the standout world-building element is, of course, the dragons, who are basically giant amiable lizard-cats (warm-blooded and, notwithstanding one passing reference to scales, they’re consistently referred to throughout the series as having “hide” rather than as reptiles). the bond between dragon and rider is narratively compelling and creates a fun interpersonal dynamic. I do wish Ramoth, Lessa’s dragon, were a bit more narratively present — Mnementh, F’lar’s dragon, is around all the time but Ramoth gets less (active) page time, since she only hatches partway through the novel and for another full section isn’t an adult. I love them.
the political dynamics of Pern are, as I said, a weird (though less weird in light of Slobodian’s discussions of right-libertarianism) combination of libertarianism and feudalism; in Dragonflight we mainly see the feudalism, and one of the places McCaffrey really shines throughout the series is in her handling of complex political situations at both high-level — clearly setting out the material and ideological structures that are shaping things — and also at the level of individual characters, who she leads through political conflicts (skillfully or not, as appropriate) in ways that lend to their characterization. one of the series as a whole’s primary theoretical concerns is what makes widespread social change possible and how widespread social change is subjectively experienced, and while it becomes more prominent in later books — this one is more backward-looking, as it sets out in its prologue: it’s interested in the nature of “history” and “legend” — it’s definitely also apparent here: the crisis facing Pern is one that demands an organized, planet-wide response, and a big part of the book is figuring out how to make that possible. is F’lar’s solution the best one? definitely not, but it’s certainly in character and feels like a logical outgrowth of Pern’s feudal social and economic organization.
is it the best book I’ve ever read? far from it. is it worth reading still? I think so, both in its own right — in spite of its flaws — and because the next few books in the series get substantially better (except about the gender politics), although I find it falls off a bit after The White Dragon (her interest in high-level politics starts to crowd out characterization). if anyone’s interested in recommendations for which books to read in the rest of the series, I’m always happy to provide.
moods: adventurous, horny, inspiring, mysterious