29 pages • 58 minutes read
Octavia E. ButlerA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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Anyanwu is a person of extraordinarily long life; when the book begins, she is three hundred years old. She can crush rocks with her bare hands, jump across rivers, heal herself with a thought, and transform her body into any living shape she can imagine. She also represents the moral heart of Wild Seed. Though she is put through many trials (presumably more during the 150 years presented in this book than she experienced in her 300 years before) her motivations do not change. She is motivated by ties to family and community, and by her responsibilities as a healer. Her people are the Igbo, native to central and eastern Africa. At the same time, she has within her an antagonistic moral force that longs for freedom and excitement.
Doro both repels and fascinates the part of Anyanwu that longs for freedom, and this story is less about a dynamic change in her moral character and more about the reconciliation of her two moral halves. This reconciliation happens with time and raw data: “She had power and her power had made her independent, accustomed to being her own person. She did not yet realize that she had walked away from that independence when she walked away from her people with him” (29). Throughout the book, Doro keeps her supplied with only enough information to keep her following him. When she comes to America, much of her time is spent learning the language and clothing of her new place. When she was at the height of her power, before Doro found her, her power derived not from her physical strength but on the accumulation of her learning. Throughout Wild Seed, Anyanwu plays catch up with her knowledge base, and only returns to her power when she has come to master her new home and heal the people with whom she comes into contact.
Despite being the antagonist of the novel, Doro goes through the most fundamental transformation by the end. Many science fiction novels feature the “mad scientist” archetype. Like Dr. Frankenstein, such mad scientists are often overcome by the hubris of their creative activity, killed by the creatures they manipulate and mold. In Wild Seed, Doro is instead consumed by love and mutual responsibility.
His power, at first subtle to apprehend, becomes staggering in its implication. He can telepathically link with another human being, killing them and taking over their body. There is no limit to this power, and he has long lost track of his body count. This power is instantaneous and total, and so its demonstration near the living people he wants to manipulate is necessary in order to get from them what he wants. He demonstrates this power often. This leads him to his secondary power; he is immortal, his mind always sharp. He has lived for millennia, and is a master manipulator, and knowledgeable of the world in a way no other person can be. Whereas many mad scientists are inhuman mechanical geniuses, creating zombies and doomsday devices, Doro is inhumanly sociological. He creates whole towns of people subject to his whim as if he were observing bacilli swimming in a petri dish.
Doro comes from a time a thousand years past. “His parents were all that he could recall had been good about his youth [...] His were a tall, stately people—Nubians, they came to be called much later” (190). His own origins are prehistoric to himself, and he only remembers being cast aside by the Egyptians as they resettled the Nile River at the dawn of history. His origins also mirror the ancient Igbo myth of an ogbanje, the evil spirit that recurs again and again to haunt and finally destroy a family. Where Anyanwu represents life and rebirth, Doro is forged by death and disorder. In his way, he also embodies the Western ideal of Cartesian existence, which depicts the mind and body as completely separate entities. Though he occupies a variety of bodies—men, women, children, the aged—these never interfere with the pure purpose of his mind.
Many characters come and go in the universe of Wild Seed, and we as readers are encouraged to view them much as Doro and Anyanwu see them; as short lived and insignificant. Only a few characters rise from this milieu, and Isaac is one of them. He has the power of telekinesis, able to move objects several times his own weight with his mind. He presents as a handsome blonde-haired white man. The cultural traditions under which he operates are neither African, nor European, nor fully American, and Butler seems to suggest that such traditions are beside the point for Isaac. Cultural tradition is a marker of what Doro dismissively calls “Wild Seed,” and Isaac is definitively not that. His morals and worldview are shaped by having been raised as an infant under Doro’s control
Normally, Doro does not distinguish between his several children and those who commingle with them. After all, when he sires children, he does so with someone else’s body, which he will eventually discard like clothing. His usual interest is in whether they are useful to him. Curiously, Isaac does indeed demonstrate the usefulness of his power, as when he drags their ship out of a squall that threatens to drown them, but mostly Isaac is shown in pursuit of pleasure. He is not restricted by society into hiding his powers, and whenever possible, he uses them to fly. Perhaps this is what endears him to both Doro and Anyanwu, who treat him with favor even when his cheery disposition disguises an indifference to his father’s lack of respect for human life.
Wild Seed covers a lot of territory in its 304 pages. It is not simply “about” slavery, but about the ties that keep people enslaved and exploited. It is not simply about white supremacy, but about supremacy itself. Therefore, the white characters we meet are neither “supreme” nor even all that white. Like whiteness in the real world, the category is shown, within the perspective of a few generations, to be meaningless as a biological characteristic. As a political ideological characteristic, too, white supremacy recedes in the narrative, supplanted by Doro’s dominant and disinterested scientific determinism.
Through the character of Thomas, however, Butler wrestles with white supremacy as mere mortals experience it and filters his ideology through Anyanwu’s more expansive lens. Though born of a Native American father, Thomas is a virulent white supremacist: “He looked, except for the sparse beard, like an Indian, but he thought of himself as a white man. And he thought of Anyanwu as a nigger” (171). This is portrayed, as with Thomas’s alcoholism, open sores, and self-imposed starvation, as being of a part with a totalizing and pathetic illness. Thomas is spiritually and physically sick. This is the first quality Anyanwu sees in him, while Doro greats him as a form of punishment inflicted on his rival.
Anyanwu is a supreme healer, and she recognizes her responsibility to Thomas immediately. This responsibility is to herself, as well. In order to survive without having to kill, she must redeem Thomas as a human being and as a man. She cures his physical ailments by feeding and bathing him, but cures his mental state by getting him to talk about his former wife and about the curse of his telepathic ability
By Octavia E. Butler