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48 pages 1 hour read

Anne McCaffrey

Dragonflight

Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 1968

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Themes

Faith and Belief: Blurring the Lines between Science and Religion

Anne McCaffrey’s Pern is, to all appearances, a secular society. There is no organized religion in Pern—no mention of gods or supernatural spirits. While there are fantasy elements—most notably dragons and a form of empathetic telepathy–Dragonflight is rooted in hard science fiction. The author and her universe are interested less in magic and spirituality and more in knowable, observable truths.

That being said, belief and faith are powerful elements in Dragonflight because McCaffrey posits a world in which so much time has passed that scientific knowledge has become “myth.” In the far-distant past, human beings from Earth used modern science to combat the Threads. They developed flamethrowers, used genetics to breed dragons, and leveraged scientific theories (like Arrhenius’s theory of panspermia) to make sense of and control their world. But due to the passage of time, their scientific works became unintelligible to their descendants, and those who believe in them are seen as superstitious and disconnected from reality.

Thus the question of “faith” becomes one of the major tests for characters in Dragonflight: Do they “believe” in the truth of the old treatises—now relegated to legend—or do they prioritize only what they can see right in front of them? The Lords, for example, think there is no profit to be had in the silly superstitions of the Weyr, and they pay dearly for their neglect of Pern’s defenses. Even the former Weyrleader R’gul is dangerously literal in his beliefs. Although he’s well versed in traditional knowledge, he only considers the problems of the here and now—e.g. keeping a tenuous peace with the Lords rather than acknowledging the Weyr’s true purpose. Even when there is ample evidence that the Threads have returned, R’gul still has trouble believing.

In contrast to the nonbelievers, the zealous F’lar is a prophet of sorts—a stalwart advocate for tradition against all odds. While F’lar has no hard proof that the Threads exist, he believes. Anne McCaffrey’s use of religious terminology emphasizes the religious overtones of the Weyr way of life. While the dragonriders are not strictly speaking a religious organization, they rely on “tithes,” the traditional term for a tax used to support Christian churches and their clergy. Likewise, when Lessa inwardly prefers that the Threads destroy Ruatha rather than allow Fax’s continued rule, she quickly chastises herself for “heresy” (31), another term associated with orthodox (especially Christian) religions.  

McCaffrey makes full use of this sort of interplay between religion and science. One period’s hard facts, she suggests, may in time come to be seen as hokey superstition. Paradoxically, Pern’s more “advanced” past, with its specialized scientific knowledge, seems like fanciful legend to its present-day inhabitants, while elements that would strike the reader as futuristic—like the mysterious between—are commonplace for the Pernese. 

Pern’s Moral Code and Gender Norms

While Dragonflight’s protagonists, Lessa and F’lar, often find themselves at odds with each other—F’lar’s steadfastness clashes with Lessa’s gung-ho attitude–their moral codes are strikingly similar. Together they stand as models for Dragonflight’s code of conduct. “Good” characters in Pern display a certain brand of stoic, restrained, selfless behavior. Like F’lar and (eventually) Lessa, they subordinate the needs of the self to the needs of the collective. Excess of any sort is frowned upon—especially excessive emotion. Rather, the ideal person is measured in all things; they do not lean too hard in one direction or another.

At the same time, social expectations are highly gendered in Dragonflight. It is therefore useful to explore good and bad behavior in Pern through this lens. For example, in Dragonflight, “bad” men come in two forms: they either desire too much power (an excess of greed), or they are lazy or slow to action (an excess of sloth). The book’s first villain is the tyrant Fax. He lacks proper restraint in political terms—he conquers more than his appropriate share of land—and in social terms, he lacks sexual restraint by bedding many wives and treating them poorly. On the other end of the spectrum is R’gul, who has an excess of reticence. He is too conservative, both in his vision of the world and his vision of the Weyr’s place in it. Rather than embracing and enforcing the Weyr’s purpose as protectors against a dire threat, he shortsightedly bends over backwards to appease the Holding Lords, refusing to see the truth of the Threads until it is (almost) too late. F’lar briefly masquerades as a conservative too: initially, Lessa judges him harshly for his apparent unwillingness to make a stand and take control of the situation. But in reality F’lar is a model for Dragonflight’s perfect balance of virtue: he is able to wait and rein in his powerful emotions, but also to utilize them when the time is right.

Dragonflight also fault women for excess—most of all for sexual promiscuity. Kylara is the prime example of this type of character. She sleeps with various dragonriders and has “the amorous tendencies of a green dragon” (154), the highly feminized subset of dragon noted solely for their licentious behavior. Most damning of all, Kylara is self-absorbed and leverages her beauty to get ahead in the world—a cardinal sin for women in Dragonflight. Kylara’s obsession with herself nearly ruins F’lar’s plan in the Southern Reaches; she repeatedly shirks her duties as leader and time travels to watch herself at various stages of her life. Other pretty girls show moral weakness too. F’lar’s companion Lady Tela is pretty but foolish, and Lessa’s beautiful rivals at the Hatching die horribly for their girlish fear, which Lessa characterizes as silly.

Conversely, the prior Weyrwoman Jora’s great fault was her laziness. This sin of excess finds a counterpart in her physical appearance: Jora was not just stupid and incompetent, but also obese. Women who are revered in Pern tend to be even-keeled and sexually modest, usually due to their advanced age (like Gemma and Manora). The one exception is Lessa who, notably, has more “masculine” faults than feminine. Like Fax, she is greedy and hotheaded until life experience helps her temper herself.

These gendered variations in Pern’s broader moral code complicate Dragonflight’s feminist legacy. Life within the Weyr is in many ways egalitarian in matters of sex and gender; women occupy positions of leadership alongside men, sexual mores are relaxed, and the community (rather than individual mothers) shoulder collective responsibility for childrearing. McCaffrey also implicitly critiques some of Pern’s more sexist practices—e.g. some Lords’ practice of keeping multiple wives, or the ban on queen dragons (and their female riders) taking part in combat. On the other hand, the faults the work identifies in its female characters—flirtatiousness, vanity, etc.—reinforce misogynistic tropes common in our own society.

The Power of Art and Song

While the Pern of Dragonflight has regressed to a more primitive, medieval-like state, there are hints that its original colonizers were technologically advanced scientists of our own age. In his deep research dive into the old Records in Part 3, F’lar discovers a strange metal machine and illustrations he does not understand—flamethrowers the original colonists developed. He and Lessa also read terms which are incomprehensible to them, like “Arrhenius,” and “mycorrhiza” (179). They write these off as babblings of a primitive people, but the reader might recognize them for what they are: advanced scientific observations.

While these discoveries were scientific in nature, the scientists’ ideas were preserved not by scientific treatises, but rather in the form of art and song. Pern’s ancestors understood people find these forms easy and pleasant to consume, and consequently that these vehicles stood the best chance of making sure everyone in Pern—not just the “educated”—knew how to combat the Threads. Lessa understands this concept well: In instructing her friends in the past to write a song for the future, she encourages them to make use of the emotional power of music. It was these cues—not logic—that tripped her “eureka!” moment.

In fact, pieces of art trigger many of the crucial turning points and ideas in the text—e.g. Lessa’s study of the Ruathan tapestry. It is not F’lar’s scientific ingenuity, but rather his willingness to take ancient poems seriously that saves the day in Pern. Metatextually, the effect is to acknowledge that science is important and necessary while also positing that the humanities play an important role in human culture. To disregard traditional arts and works of the past in favor of logic and industry, Dragonflight suggests, invites disconnection and disaster in the future.

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