News from Nowhere

“And you see this ferrying and giving people casts about the water is my business, which I would do for anybody; so to take gifts in connection with it would look very queer.”

Dick’s use of the word “business” to describe his work emphasizes the difference in the diction of their time period. Business, to Guest, is entirely reliant on the involvement of money, but for Dick, his business is something he offers to all. In another example of differing diction, he refers to money as a “gift,” like any other present, unexpected and only accepted under the appropriate circumstances.

“As they were the first of the sex I had seen on this eventful morning, I naturally looked at them very attentively, and found them at least as good as the gardens, the architecture, and the male men.”

Having already witnessed the aesthetic improvements in the architecture and landscape of 21st-century Hammersmith, Guest is pleased to see that the people are also attractive. While there is a certain amount of objectification in comparing women to gardens and architecture, the overarching point is to show that socialism would not lead to vulgarity or ugliness and that it would not shock someone with Victorian tastes.

“‘Well, education means a system of teaching young people.’ ‘Why not old people also?’ said he with a twinkle in his eye.”

Dick’s rhetorical question reverses Guest’s assumptions about what is “normal” in education. The “twinkle” in Dick’s eye suggests that he takes Guest’s statement to be more ridiculous than offensive.

“I am glad of it: because you know at the worst these silly old buildings serve as a kind of foil to the beautiful ones which we build now.”

Referring to the Houses of Parliament, Dick’s word choice (calling them “silly old buildings”) contrasts with the importance they held in Guest’s lifetime. The Parliament building’s role also reflects the role of the history of the time—it serves to remind them how much more functional and beautiful their society is than that of the past.

“Indeed, I believe that at one time they were actually compelled to do some such work, because they, especially the women, got so ugly and produced such ugly children if their disease was not treated sharply, that the neighbors couldn’t stand it.”

Dick describes the disease of “idleness,” the effects of which drove people to work because without work, they became ugly. This statement both demonstrates the continued importance of women’s looks over men’s as well as the extent to which they view work as necessary for well-being and therefore beauty. The repetition of the word “ugly” emphasizes their fear of the absence of beauty.

“[T]hey made their God a tormentor and a jailer rather than anything else.”

Dick explains the role God used to play in their society. He personifies God, usually perceived as benevolent, as a tormentor and a jailer, drawing the comparison between their entire society and prison.

“[A]nd how could they look happy if they knew that their neighbours were shut up in prison, while they bore such things quietly?”

Dick again uses a rhetorical question to emphasize the moral compromises one must make to allow their neighbor to be locked in prison while they move about freely. This is a rhetorical question in part because to answer it would require Guest to admit that he is capable of looking happy while others remain locked up.

“As for me, I was now looking at him harder than good manners allowed of; perhaps; for in truth his face, dried-apple-like as it was, seemed strangely familiar to me; as if I had seen it before–in a looking-glass it might be, said I to myself.”

Guest’s comparison of Hammond’s face to a dried apple emphasizes the view that humans are a part of the natural world. In addition, Guest’s feeling that he has seen Hammond before in a looking glass demonstrates how connected he feels to these people. This recognition reminds the reader that Guest, while his society is vastly different, is the same at his core as Hammond.

“[A]s if the whole world depended on their kisses (as indeed it does somewhat), yet I don’t think my tales of the past interest them much. The last harvest, the last baby, the last knot of carving in the marketplace, is history enough for them.”

As Hammond discusses children with Guest, Morris uses hyperbole to communicate their importance. Then he uses repetition to demonstrate the simplicity of their view of life: Most of his fellow citizens are more interested in the present rather than the past.

“[T]hough you do come from another planet, you can see from the mere outside look of our world that quarrels about private property could not go on amongst us in our days.”

Hammond uses hyperbole to acknowledge the extent of the differences in their societies. Guest’s place (or time) of origin is never explicitly discussed, but he is so unfamiliar with their lifestyle that Hammond treats him as if he were truly from another planet.

“They say, Pleasure begets pleasure.”

Hammond states this philosophy in the context of their view on love and family—a healthy, mutual love will produce a healthier and more beautiful child than two people forced to stay together based on the institution of marriage. Morris uses repetition to express the simplicity of this philosophy, which also applies to most other aspects of their society.

“[S]omething to be swallowed by the beginner in the art of living whether he liked it or not, and was hungry for it or not: and which had been chewed and digested over and over again by people who didn’t care about it in order to serve it out to other people who didn’t care about it.”

Hammond uses an extended metaphor, comparing knowledge to food. The type of education used in the years before the revolution was diluted, having been digested repeatedly and made boring precisely because it was digested already. This metaphor emphasizes the fact that the one receiving knowledge must be hungry for it. This metaphor emphasizes the importance of individual freedom—true learning is dependent on one seeking out knowledge when one wants it.

“That we live amidst beauty without fear of becoming effeminate; that we have plenty to do, and on the whole enjoy doing it. What more can we ask of life?”

Hammond implicitly addresses the fears of those who believe that a socialist revolution, particularly in the area of labor, would result in the breakdown of gender differences, making men in particular soft and feminized. He insists that enjoyable work will obviate this possibility.

“It is now a garden, where nothing is wasted and nothing is spoilt, with the necessary dwellings, sheds, and workshops scattered up and down the country, all trim and neat and pretty.”

Hammond uses a metaphor comparing their society to a garden in which nothing is wasted or spoiled. Everything is valued and used, like all aspects of the natural world. The metaphor develops the idea that a healthy human society reflects the natural world.

“Well, well, dung is not the worst kind of corruption; fertility may come of that.”

Continuing his metaphor that compares society to the natural world, Hammond recognizes that even waste can serve a fertilizing and productive function. As a part of the natural world, dung serves a purpose, unlike some of the useless creations of the past.

“And now that all this is changed, and the ‘rights of property,’ which mean the clenching the fist on a piece of goods and crying out to the neighbours, You shan’t have this!—now that all this has disappeared so utterly that it is no longer possible even to jest upon its absurdity, is such a Government possible?”

Morris uses imagery to communicate the silliness of private property. The picture he paints of owning something seems so selfish that it is hard to imagine that this is the premise of private property. Rather than “this is mine,” he sees it instead as “You shan’t have this!” This change in diction communicates their society’s mindset shift from focused on themselves to focused on their neighbors.

“‘It abolished itself, my friend,’ said he.”

Hammond claims that the disappearance of civil law was, essentially, a natural outgrowth of other events. With no private property, common problems in societies of the past became obsolete on their own.

“The reward of labor is life. Is that not enough?”

Using alliteration and a rhetorical question, Hammond states so simply the response to most criticisms of the premise of socialism. The question begs the reader to consider what more they could want.

“Let the country be cleared of everything except valiant living men, rather than that we fall into slavery again!”

This phrase that the working class used in their civil war uses rhyme to exemplify the collective struggle. The workers used a rhyme to reinforce their willingness to sacrifice everything to ensure that the system of “slavery” ended.

“‘Do you remember anything like that, guest in the country from which you come?’ […] ’Yes, when I was a happy child on a sunny holiday, and had everything I could think of.’ ‘So it is,’ said he.”

Guest thinks back to childhood before he can locate a feeling similar to the happiness he feels in his present journey. The situation is vague enough to be relatable but specific enough to conjure an image of pure pleasure.

“[F]or the first time in my life, I was having my fill of the pleasure of the eyes without any of that sense of incongruity, that dread of approaching ruin, which had always beset me hitherto when I had been amongst the beautiful works of art of the past, mingled with the lovely nature of the present; both of them, in fact, the result of the long centuries of tradition, which had compelled men to produce the art, and compelled nature to run into the mould of the ages.”

Guest describes his first experience feeling the pleasure of beauty without the dread of what is to come. He is able to enjoy the art and the moment, but not without being reminded of the brutal history through which it all came to be. The structure of his statement lets the reader experience the same pleasure followed by a remembrance of the pain.

“I have read not a few books of the past days, and certainly they are much more alive than those which are written now […] There is a spirit of adventure in them, and signs of a capacity to extract good out of evil which our literature quite lacks now; and I cannot help thinking that our moralists and historians exaggerate hugely the unhappiness of the past days, in which such splendid works of imagination and intellect were produced.”

The old man they meet in Runnymede laments that the books of his day are less “alive” than books of the past, regardless of the fact that the people of his day are happier. He implies that a certain degree of unhappiness is necessary for great art and deep thinking, a value system that those around him do not share.

“‘Heaven?’ said he: ‘you like heaven, do you?’”

This rhetorical question asked by the old man in Runnymede asks Guest to consider the true nature of a socialist society. It urges the reader to consider whether “heaven”—understood as a site of unchanging happiness—is really the model for a successful society.