From Moons to Galaxies: Identity Politics in an Intergalactic Age

Kaitin is in love with moons, since "Moons are small. A moon's beauty is in variations of sameness" (17). He is discomforted by the thought of a larger world, of differences, of that which he doesn't understand.
Samuel Delany's Nova not only creates a broader world, but a broader galaxy. Rather than capital cities, he talks of capital planets; Australia and New York are considered in touching distance. Yet, society is still as stratified as before. The Draco Empire includes Earth and is mainly the site of large governments and corporations. This galactic region is home to the upper classes. The Pleiadades Federation is beyond Draco, the home of Lorq Von Ray, and is a distinctly more middle class community. The Outer Colonies are almost entirely geared towards Illyrion mining, and thus have a primarily lower class population. These regions are almost successive rings about each other, with the economic and social status of the population decreasing the further from the center. Draco is mostly white, while the Pleiadedes have a much more racially mixed population. The rise of mega companies, and the attendant effects on class are, in fact, a locus of the novel. Lorq plans to bring back seven tons of Illyrium to put the Illyrium mines out of business, bringing the economy out of stasis. Prince counters that he must keep the Illyrium out of circulation, since it will plunge both Draco and the Outer Colonies into economic ruin. Prince admits how how tenuous his position is: "I'm not a fool, Lorq. I'm a juggler. I want to keep all our worlds spinning about my ears" (204). Lorq's father, in a flashback, says, "The combination of cultural difference - and I don't care what your social studies teachers at Causby say - and the difference in the cost of transportation is what assures the eventual sovereignty of the Outer Colonies" (93).
Given a narrative that clearly draws parallels with the era of decolonization, particularly with regard to Africa, it's surprising that Samuel Delany is seen as unconscious of the "black experience." In fact, as he describes, he is highly conscious of the realities of his various identities: black, male, gay, science fiction writer, and so forth. His homosexuality manifests itself more heavily in later books, where the erotic and romantic tensions become more obvious, but there are hints here as well. The character of Katin can be seen as a meditation on his own role as a writer. And these realities manifest them in different ways in his books. As Jeffrey Tucker quotes him as saying, "Look, I am black. Therefore, what I do is part of the definition, the reality, the evidence of blackness. It's your job to interpret it" (13).
That interpretation is a steep task to demand. For example, Greg Tate is troubled by Delany's failure to embrace a vision of black characters in which current African American culture serves an affirming role, rather than crafting a future where, perhaps, race doesn't matter, but the cultural differences of the different communities don't exist either. As Delany retorts, with an example from James Baldwin, the concept of race is something society constructs. On the other hand, to say something is a social construct is only marginally useful; it may explain origins, but it often keeps people from recognizing what has become a very effective reality for present society. And definitions can in and of themselves be troubling, like the constant point in both articles that somehow science fiction is not a "black" genre, despite its qualities that might render it appropriate to express certain facets of black experiences - including its marginality and its potential to erase the past and envision a new world.
Even more troubling is the need to see Delany as consistently one and only one of his identities, the nearly pathological need to understand his work in a "black" context, as though only this gives him credibility, and the lack of some undefinable characteristic known as "blackness" keeps him from certain levels of acceptance. How do we move from moons to galaxies? How do we reach an understanding of the whole picture that doesn't discount any of these factors, but understands them as a unified, inseperable whole? How do we move beyond small differences and appreciate the multitude of vast variations?