Review (#3): "The Anchoring Place", a novel by Anita Moskát (GABO, 2015)
By Péter MARTON
Anita Moskát's novel, "The Anchoring Place," shares its title – in my translation of the original Hungarian Horgonyhely – with Aleksei Bogolyubov's 19th century painting, used (with that excuse) as convenient illustration above. The two works do not have too much in common, though: for example, Moskát's novel doesn't have anything to do with Russia. But there certainly are steamers and anchoring places in it (unconnected to each other).
The "anchoring places" play the key role: every person has one, right on the spot where one was born. Should one try to leave it (and its vicinity within a certain radius) behind, it won't work – it pulls one back, makes one physically ill. Fatally, even, if this is stretched to the limit. There is only one exception, one segment of the population that has freedom of movement: pregnant women. The author thus establishes an alternate world, in a Nordic/medieval setting, where women play the leading roles in society. They are empowered by selective mobility even in the face of male muscle power, so a very different social order arises and feels "natural" to many. This is a great way to start a discussion of the implications of gendered social hierarchies – even the staunchest men, who would think that any talk of gender is "un-manly" and would not notice the slightest contradiction inherent to saying this, would have to acknowledge the importance of gender here, should they feel ready to read a novel of this kind. (They should – the only question is, would they?)
As this is an English-language review, for audiences beyond Hungary, of a Hungarian-language novel, I can't afford to shoot down many things, so let me just say, first of all, that the trip is worth it. It's a strange ride, given all the quirky rules and institutions of world imagined in the book, but they are smoothly introduced to the reader, organically interwoven with the evolution of the plot, without any major info dumps. We thus get an action-packed story full of twists, at the same time as it is a thought experiment.
A big bonus comes towards the end, when you realise that what reads like fantasy till then (apart from the social sciences relevance of the gender-related aspects) in fact may pass for SF as well, given the presence of something that may even bring to mind Bo Balder's "A House of Her Own," reviewed here about two weeks ago. By "something" I mean something I won't reveal here.
The story also carries some nice underlying messages about the need for empathy and rational compromises in society, and also regarding the power of science and how one should never give up on trying to resolve mysteries through the scientific method – this may ultimately lead to Enlightenment, and thus out of a medieval world.
Speaking of which, a criticism I have is that the world presented in the novel is too secular. There is little in the way of what the characters would think of the transcendental. They just seem to move through lives shaped by a very constraining opportunity structure. Most women take pleasure in this, and most men resent this. It's a zero-sum game exclusively over the goods of this world. Pure gender war. I kind of disliked this at first (and to some extent, I still do). I thought that a few examples of women interested in the real emancipation of men, and men speaking of their "naturally inferior" status in an accepting way, would have added to the power of showing reversed gender hierarchies.
Something I could, however, think of in the meantime as compensating for this, is the reality that today we have to co-exist with a Meninist movement – and especially incels, at that. For the latter, their worldview is characterised by a very similar idea of pure gender war. Just think of how some among them are seriously proposing these days that all men have a human right to enjoy women from time to time, and so should be allocated partners, perhaps through a central redistribution mechanism of some kind. By which they would never imply that they are fine with a sexually active divorced woman in her forties who might be similarly interested in finding a partner. One can't help but think that this "natural human right" they like to think and speak of as such entails, to them, access to 18-year-old women regardless of where they themselves fall on the age spectrum from 15 to about 65 (and possibly beyond).
To offer some more criticism: I had a major problem with the central character of Vazil. He acts at times as the dumbest scientist there ever was. It is fine that the scientific method is basically trial-and-error, but it is trial-and-error informed by one's existing knowledge regarding what proposition may have sufficient plausibility to warrant allocating resources for its empirical examination. The Vazil we have here insists on the dumbest, most obviously unnecessary tests one can think of, disregarding "known knowns." At other times he encounters something completely and fundamentally new to him, a real, world-shaking "unknown unknown," and yet he stubbornly sticks to his old research approach.
But then... it might be refreshing, even, to read a novel where characters driven by emotionally informed assumptions often make idiotic decisions. It's only life-like, after all. And even if you don't easily come to terms with this, it takes away nothing from the value of the thought experiment alluded to above.
A minor issue concerns the author's idea of a canal connecting fjords via a system of sluices... I've heard of shipping tunnels cutting through mountains to connect fjords but not something like this. Doesn't seem very practical or plausible at all, not to speak of how a river or a lake should create an exploitable and renewing reservoir of water for the sluices to work. Moreover, the author also talks of a "fjord lying higher than the other." Now, "fjords" are inlets of the sea, so this is, simply, a misunderstanding. Fjords are at sea level, per definition. Connecting a fjord to a river might somehow be worth it, though, given the peculiar geography of a given area. Everything about this book is peculiar, and mostly in a good sense, so the story could have accomodated something like this, more carefully incorporated into the plot.
Previously reviewed here: Lajko: Gipsy in Space, a movie directed by Balázs Lengyel (2018)
As this is an English-language review, for audiences beyond Hungary, of a Hungarian-language novel, I can't afford to shoot down many things, so let me just say, first of all, that the trip is worth it. It's a strange ride, given all the quirky rules and institutions of world imagined in the book, but they are smoothly introduced to the reader, organically interwoven with the evolution of the plot, without any major info dumps. We thus get an action-packed story full of twists, at the same time as it is a thought experiment.
A big bonus comes towards the end, when you realise that what reads like fantasy till then (apart from the social sciences relevance of the gender-related aspects) in fact may pass for SF as well, given the presence of something that may even bring to mind Bo Balder's "A House of Her Own," reviewed here about two weeks ago. By "something" I mean something I won't reveal here.
The story also carries some nice underlying messages about the need for empathy and rational compromises in society, and also regarding the power of science and how one should never give up on trying to resolve mysteries through the scientific method – this may ultimately lead to Enlightenment, and thus out of a medieval world.
Speaking of which, a criticism I have is that the world presented in the novel is too secular. There is little in the way of what the characters would think of the transcendental. They just seem to move through lives shaped by a very constraining opportunity structure. Most women take pleasure in this, and most men resent this. It's a zero-sum game exclusively over the goods of this world. Pure gender war. I kind of disliked this at first (and to some extent, I still do). I thought that a few examples of women interested in the real emancipation of men, and men speaking of their "naturally inferior" status in an accepting way, would have added to the power of showing reversed gender hierarchies.
Something I could, however, think of in the meantime as compensating for this, is the reality that today we have to co-exist with a Meninist movement – and especially incels, at that. For the latter, their worldview is characterised by a very similar idea of pure gender war. Just think of how some among them are seriously proposing these days that all men have a human right to enjoy women from time to time, and so should be allocated partners, perhaps through a central redistribution mechanism of some kind. By which they would never imply that they are fine with a sexually active divorced woman in her forties who might be similarly interested in finding a partner. One can't help but think that this "natural human right" they like to think and speak of as such entails, to them, access to 18-year-old women regardless of where they themselves fall on the age spectrum from 15 to about 65 (and possibly beyond).
To offer some more criticism: I had a major problem with the central character of Vazil. He acts at times as the dumbest scientist there ever was. It is fine that the scientific method is basically trial-and-error, but it is trial-and-error informed by one's existing knowledge regarding what proposition may have sufficient plausibility to warrant allocating resources for its empirical examination. The Vazil we have here insists on the dumbest, most obviously unnecessary tests one can think of, disregarding "known knowns." At other times he encounters something completely and fundamentally new to him, a real, world-shaking "unknown unknown," and yet he stubbornly sticks to his old research approach.
But then... it might be refreshing, even, to read a novel where characters driven by emotionally informed assumptions often make idiotic decisions. It's only life-like, after all. And even if you don't easily come to terms with this, it takes away nothing from the value of the thought experiment alluded to above.
A minor issue concerns the author's idea of a canal connecting fjords via a system of sluices... I've heard of shipping tunnels cutting through mountains to connect fjords but not something like this. Doesn't seem very practical or plausible at all, not to speak of how a river or a lake should create an exploitable and renewing reservoir of water for the sluices to work. Moreover, the author also talks of a "fjord lying higher than the other." Now, "fjords" are inlets of the sea, so this is, simply, a misunderstanding. Fjords are at sea level, per definition. Connecting a fjord to a river might somehow be worth it, though, given the peculiar geography of a given area. Everything about this book is peculiar, and mostly in a good sense, so the story could have accomodated something like this, more carefully incorporated into the plot.
Previously reviewed here: Lajko: Gipsy in Space, a movie directed by Balázs Lengyel (2018)
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