The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction and How It Relates to Astrology

A couple of weeks ago, I finally read The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction by Ursula K. Le Guin, as part of a reading circle by Garg, a feminist and queer bookstore in Reykjavík. It's a short text that I've been meaning to read for a long time and reading it together in a circle with others was the perfect way to read it, with rich discussions afterwards that went every which way. 

Ursula K. Le Guin, photo taken by Marian Wood Kolisch.

In short, Le Guin's essay proposes a way of viewing (and writing) literature and stories through a more complex, nuanced and societal viewpoint. The carrier bag relates to the theory that humanity's first invention was not a weapon, as patriarchy would like to have us think, but a carrier bag — something to collect seeds, water, berries or herbs. By relating this theory, Le Guin weaves a connection between the weapon and the common way of writing stories as a hero's journey; a linear story with a clear hero figure who overcomes adversity, wins a battle and dies (literally or metaphorically). The carrier bag then becomes her proposal for a richer, more nuanced way of writing, where we deconstruct the Hero and even remove the need for violence, embracing peaceful conflict resolution. If you've read any of Le Guin's fiction, I'm sure you'll immediately recognise this way of storytelling. 

At the reading circle, we talked about fiction that we felt fitted this theory. The Moomins was my immediate connection (for those outside of the Nordics, the Moomins are creations of Finnish author, artist and activist Tove Jansson and much of it is available in English): the storylines that wander slowly and with so much embodied pleasure through the beautiful valley, introducing a myriad of different characters who learn lessons about life not through combat or violence, but through community, nature and communal learning.

Tove Jansson, public domain photo from wikipedia.org

In astrology, the narrative of the Hero's journey (specifically referring to Joseph Campbell and others influenced by his work) is often evoked, especially in circles interested in astrology as therapeutic. It can be a useful way of framing things in ways almost anyone can relate to, since we all know examples of stories that follow the general pattern of the hero's journey and certainly, astrology offers a ton of opportunities to frame our lives in symbolic or mythological patterns. A planet moving retrograde being forced to confront what it had ignored before; the Fool of the Tarot setting off on a journey through the decans of the zodiac; diving deep into the dark parts of the chart to unearth something meaningful; or a planet going through a sign it has no dignity in, finding novel ways of dealing with things. 

However, I think it is crucial to integrate the Carrier Bag theory into the way we frame astrology. In order to interpret a chart, with all its dynamic and complex layering, putting together meanings for houses, aspects, dignity, signs, not to mention timing or other techniques, a good astrologer needs to be able to think, and frame, things on multiple levels all at once, what I usually think of as non-dualistic thinking. This way of working requires the astrologer to let go of good-bad dualistic ideas and other binaries and to embrace interconnectedness, dynamic relationships and gradations or spectrums. It's something I think most talented astrologers already do, and if this sounds like you, then I encourage you to read over Le Guin's text to see if it can give deeper meaning to your own practice!

Pepe Silvia meme — honestly, who hasn't felt like this while getting deeper into the astrological layers??

Of course, it's important that we don't fall into yet another binary way of thinking about this. The Hero's journey isn't wrong, nor is the Carrier Bag correct. A narrative can have elements of both, or live somewhere else entirely on the giant spectrum of storytelling that we humans are able to create. Framing things (in fiction, astrology or therapy) as a heroic journey is useful when there are monsters we need to face — and the world is full of all kinds of monsters. I don't think Le Guin would want anyone to think of her essay as saying the weapon is completely useless. After all, someone needed to protect the communities described in the essay against ferocious wildlife, and sometimes we need an outlet for our wild, aggressive and adventurous tendencies. But as with all things, it's crucial to find a balance where we are able to lean more into the weapon or the carrier bag (or some other way entirely), depending on our situation. Having that choice can mean a world of difference in how we approach each other, our own experiences, any type of conflict and solidarity.