The Unique Appeal of Dystopian Fiction

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You’ve probably encountered dystopian fiction before, whether it be Huxley’s Brave New World, Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, or the cleverly disguised Animal Farm. And despite depicting surreal and seemingly inconceivable circumstances – by today’s standards – this category of literature has the profound ability to reveal hidden relationships and explore the truths of the modern world.

The appeal of dystopia isn’t straightforwardly discernible, as is with romance or comedy or the archetypal hero’s journey. After all, nobody wants to read about such a detached and tragic world that seems to bear no relation to our current society… right? Maybe not. I’d argue that dystopias not only warn of the dangers of pursuing certain ideologies, but deeply resonate with a human desire to explore the continuity of suffering and consequent growth as well.

I’ll explain. Take, for instance, Kurt Vonnegut Jr’s Harrison Bergeron. It’s a relatively modern work and still under copyright, which is why I can’t link the original work – but I’d highly recommend reading it, or listening a short audio version which you can find on YouTube. (It’s 12 and a half minutes.) The novella depicts a world in which those born with greater mental ability are forced to have a device implanted in their heads, which emits a distracting noise at regular intervals to ensure the limitation of said mental ability, to equal that of everyone else’s. Similarly, the more athletic have weights bound to their bodies, and ballerinas wear masks so the ones with more appealing facial features don’t evoke more emotion than lesser beauties. The text, by utilizing clever language and tyrannical implications passed off as reasonable, satirically criticizes the concept of equality of outcome – and Vonnegut’s unique dystopia is, arguably, the ultimate equality of outcome.

When the ends of ideologies are exposed in their fullest, we become more sensitive to the subtleties of their goals. It’s not always easy to taste the minerals in tap water, until they’re present in such extreme concentrations that it’s glaringly obvious to your tongue – and similarly, the circumstances in dystopias are such extreme stretches of belief structures that they expose the underlying outcomes of the ideology where they wouldn’t have been evident previously. Perhaps this unique approach to developing insight reverberates with the human approach to learning, and our tendency to find patterns in life – the tendency to seek order and structure as a precursor to navigating the chaos of the unknown and unexplored.

In filth it will be found

A profound concept mentioned by a philosopher (I forgot who specifically) noted that even if a utopia did somehow exist, the first things that humans living in it would do is destroy it: the utopia possesses too much order, akin to being in an overly tidy house, which is done a disservice by your imperfect and unpredictable human presence. (This latter concept is that of Jordan B. Peterson of the University of Toronto, who points out that being in such a house would make most people sick and tired of it very quickly.) Just as humans can’t deal with overwhelming chaos and create hierarchies of value to organize the world that can be interpreted, too much order is unbearable as it neglects the intrinsic necessity of the unknown – and exploring the unknown – in our lives. In more simple terms, a utopia can be boring –insufferably so. And so, utopia and dystopia are inexorably linked, like two sides of the same coin; texts that present dystopian societies caution of the peril – and ironic fruitlessness – of pursuing utopia.

Yin and yang, the symbol representing many things – but most significantly, the presence of chaos in order and order in chaos, and the necessity of balance between the two for a meaningful life.

Just as failure is the only reliable way to build success, confronting the suffering in the world voluntarily is, perhaps, the sole reliable method to grow and mature. A parallel to this theme would be psychoanalyst Carl Jung’s statement “in filth it shall be found”, which roughly means “what you seek the most is where you least want to look”: developing as a person is probably the predominant aspect to living a meaningful life, but it requires a confrontation of the tragedy and malevolence of the world – which many avoid. By exposing the faults in common modern perspectives and through questioning the implications of certain actions, dystopian fiction ultimately allows us to simultaneously develop and challenge our own views.

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Note: Under the Copyright Act of Canada, Sections 29, 29.1, and 29.2, the fair dealing exception to copyright law applies to articles with the intent of criticism or review. I do not own any rights to works mentioned in this article. Please support the original publications.