One of the first things that struck me in reading Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand was the perspective. It might be just because I missed the switch from third to first person in Lillith’s Brood, but I found myself getting caught completely off-guard by the switch here. Obviously, Delany chooses to make this movement for a reason—he doesn’t seem to do anything without reason in this novel.
From the very beginning, the reader is alienated from Korga as a character. The novel starts out with complete ambiguity: “‘Of course,’ they told him in all honesty…” (Delany 3). There are no names given, although there is a physical description. In fact, Korga’s name is not given until the perspective switches to Marq. Throughout the entire time period on Korga’s home planet, Rhyonon, the readers are left in the dark about his name. Although this could be a simple overlook, it seems doubtful in a work as intricate as Stars. In contrast, I think it serves a very important purpose—because of the lack of a name, readers are forced into the mindset of Korga’s home planet. The only option that readers have to think about Korga is his status, Rat. Because he is so nameless, Korga fades into nothing more than a slave among other nameless slaves. Simple statements like “around him, thousands of rats serviced the great city full of machines” are confusing simply because they emphasize the unimportant nature of Rat (Delany 13). His humanity dissolves because of his anonymity—he is reduced to a mindless machine not only because of the operation, but also because of his namelessness.
Korga’s lack of identity in the entire first section of the book makes the mention of his name on page 61 very disarming. The immediate reaction of the reader is to connect the new character of “Rat Korga” with the nameless Rat from the first section (Delany 61). However, I was a little bit unsure about this instant connection—because Rat wasn’t ever really identified before, there was the possibility that this new Korga character was actually someone new. This idea doesn’t fade immediately because Delany doesn’t let his readers contemplate the possibility—he moves on to describe Marq’s life and doesn’t return to Korga for another twenty pages. Again, the reader almost forgets about Korga, letting him fade in comparison to the much more thorough character of Marq.
Part of the instant identification with Marq is due to the sheer level that Delaney gives to this character. He gives Marq’s name instantly, and the readers know his occupation, a little bit about his world, and some of his “earliest memories” (Delany 74). This information serves as a sharp contrast to the lack of character given to Korga.
In addition to the flatness of Rat’s character in comparison to Marq’s, there is also the matter of perspective. Rat’s section is third person, a perspective that helps to alienate the reader from Korga. If the third-person voice is alienating, then it follows that the first-person perspective helps the reader to identify more with Marq. From the beginning of his section, the reader is placed inside of Marq’s head.
I can’t help but wonder why exactly Delany chose to do this: is it simply to give Marq more personality than Korga? Personally, I enjoyed the first part of the novel more than the stories centered on Marq, although this might be an outlier opinion. Either way, whether Marq or Korga is more likeable, Delany intentionally makes Rat much less relatable.