Eyes are important in science fiction. In any fiction, really, but with a particular emphasis on the sci-fi genre, with its regular analysis of what exactly it is to be human and, conversely, what it is to be non-human. We’ve discussed this many times in class. The monster in Frankenstein had his vibrant peepers that granted him a certain human element amongst the chaotic nonsense of his creation, even before saying or doing anything. On the opposite end of things, Molly in Necromancer lost a considerable amount of her human sympathy in the reflective emptiness of her mirror lenses. But what I’ve found incredibly interesting is the use of eyes, or more to the point, tentacles, in Dawn. Almost comically resisting the standard trope in scifi, the eyes of the Oankali are the most alien thing about them.
Consider Lilith’s first interaction with Jdahya in her isolation room. Only after the extraterrestrial smoothes his collection of tentacles into a “dark, smooth-looking mass on his head” (25) is she able to convince herself to touch his skin. Mind you, in this “unnatural” state the alien is without any facial features of any sort, and is significantly more devoid of emotion or feeling. His face is both literally and figuratively wiped of all identifying features or expression. And it is only here that Lilith is comfortable enough to approach and touch his “cool and almost too smooth skin” (a distinctly unnatural description to us warm, soft skinned mammals, but nothing that frightens Lilith). His multi-fingered, “daisy” hands don’t put her on ease. Only the return of his “eyes,” sends our protagonist into such a state of instinctual panic she can’t help but cringe away from the being before her.
As Young excellently described in his post, it’s only after Jdahya first proposes the “trade” to Lilith that she begins to outright resist his and his people’s intervention. Prior, she was perhaps unnervingly willing to accept the actions of the Oankali. Their nonconsensual surgery, human imprisonment and general stubbornness are explained away by our protagonist as something she can relate to, what with humanity having treated animals in roughly the same manner. But when Jdahya begins talking about the alteration of human gene pools, Lilith suddenly becomes hostile, specifically whilst imagining “Medusa children. Snakes for hair. Nests of night crawlers for eyes.” (43) The sensory organs of the aliens aren’t just a lack of eyes, they’re almost anti-eyes. To Lilith, they’re a mockery of the beloved “windows to the soul” we humans hold dear. Sure, they sway and emote, they help social interactions along and function much the same as ours do, relatively speaking. But these are eyes that hold a dark weight to them. With the trade comes the death of literally everything Lilith knows from her old life.Butler knows this, and I believe its no coincidence that when Jdahya makes his “offering” at the end of part one, it’s through his stinging “eyes” that Lilith could find her peace of “No more questions. No more impossible answers. Nothing.” (42)
