Black humor; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
I remember the first time--and how careful we were about our clothes,
and our amateur barbering. Terry, in particular, was fussy to a degree
about the cut of his beard, and so critical of our combined efforts,
that we handed him the shears and told him to please himself. We
began to rather prize those beards of ours; they were almost our sole
distinction among those tall and sturdy women, with their cropped hair
and sexless costume. Being offered a wide selection of garments, we had
chosen according to our personal taste, and were surprised to find,
on meeting large audiences, that we were the most highly decorated,
especially Terry.
He was a very impressive figure, his strong features softened by the
somewhat longer hair--though he made me trim it as closely as I knew
how; and he wore his richly embroidered tunic with its broad, loose
girdle with quite a Henry V air. Jeff looked more like--well, like a
Huguenot Lover; and I don’t know what I looked like, only that I felt
very comfortable. When I got back to our own padded armor and its
starched borders I realized with acute regret how comfortable were those
Herland clothes.
We scanned that audience, looking for the three bright faces we knew;
but they were not to be seen. Just a multitude of girls: quiet, eager,
watchful, all eyes and ears to listen and learn.
We had been urged to give, as fully as we cared to, a sort of synopsis
of world history, in brief, and to answer questions.
“We are so utterly ignorant, you see,” Moadine had explained to us. “We
know nothing but such science as we have worked out for ourselves,
just the brain work of one small half-country; and you, we gather, have
helped one another all over the globe, sharing your discoveries, pooling
your progress. How wonderful, how supremely beautiful your civilization
must be!”
Somel gave a further suggestion.
“You do not have to begin all over again, as you did with us. We have
made a sort of digest of what we have learned from you, and it has been
eagerly absorbed, all over the country. Perhaps you would like to see
our outline?”
We were eager to see it, and deeply impressed. To us, at first, these
women, unavoidably ignorant of what to us was the basic commonplace of
knowledge, had seemed on the plane of children, or of savages. What we
had been forced to admit, with growing acquaintance, was that they
were ignorant as Plato and Aristotle were, but with a highly developed
mentality quite comparable to that of Ancient Greece.
Far be it from me to lumber these pages with an account of what we so
imperfectly strove to teach them. The memorable fact is what they taught
us, or some faint glimpse of it. And at present, our major interest was
not at all in the subject matter of our talk, but in the audience.
Girls--hundreds of them--eager, bright-eyed, attentive young faces;
crowding questions, and, I regret to say, an increasing inability on our
part to answer them effectively.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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