The Tombs of Atuan, Ursula Le Guin

Again, I read this in the version illustrated by Charles Vess, this time. I noticed fewer corrections/changes in the text for this one, but perhaps I know it a little less well — though the opening chapter with the ceremony where Arha is ‘eaten’ has always stuck in my head (the drum beating at heart-pace, the ritual word that has lost all meaning) and the descriptions of the Labyrinth, the treasures of the temple… these have made a really big impression on me. As a kid, I think it was my favourite.

And that impression pretty much stayed with me. I love learning more about this part of Earthsea, seeing a whole other perspective. Though she didn’t know it yet, according to her own discussions of her writing process, so many foundations for the later books were laid here, asking new questions of what was established in the first book.

The only thing disappointing about this reread was reading Ursula Le Guin’s afterword, which feels like such an odd thing to say — but I so often agree with Ursula Le Guin that it really pulls me up short when something strikes such a discordant note for me. Here it is:

When I was writing the story in 1969, I knew of no women heroes of heroic fantasy since those in the works of Ariosto and Tasso in the Renaissance. These days there are plenty, though I wonder about some of them. The women warriors of current fantasy epics — ruthless swordswomen with no domestic or sexual responsibility who gallop about slaughtering baddies — to me they look less like women than boys in women’s bodies in men’s armor.

It sort of depends exactly what heroines Le Guin had in mind with that, but “no domestic or sexual responsibility” rings horribly to me. I enjoy the attention to domestic tasks in Le Guin’s work (Yarrow making the wheat cakes in A Wizard of Earthsea; the endless work of spinning and weaving at the Place in The Tombs of Atuan…) — and I certainly wouldn’t want Tenar to run around in armour with a sword. I think it’s important that Tenar, with those skills and her later trajectory, is a heroine… but she’s not the only kind of heroine there can be. (And a woman who wants to have “no domestic and sexual responsibility” is no less of a woman for it.)

Bit odd to end on that note, given that I dearly love The Tombs of Atuan. Still a great read.

Rating: 5/5

A Wizard of Earthsea, Ursula Le Guin

I’ve read this I don’t know how many times, and it always charms. This time, I read it in the edition illustrated by Charles Vess, which is just gorgeous — and includes both an introduction by Le Guin and an afterword, which shed a little light on the book and what she thought of it, where it came from, and where it went. If you’ve never read it, A Wizard of Earthsea is a hero’s journey, a fantasy tale with dragons and sea-voyages and magic, but also an inward one.

I still maintain that Ged’s journey makes an excellent metaphor for (how I experience) mental illness. Sometimes the descriptions of the Shadow and the way it haunts Ged are just far too familiar; they fill me with my own anxious dread. But then it’s good to be reminded that when you turn and face it, and hunt it down, and accept it as a part of you… to some degree, things can be overcome.

All that said, I still appreciate that Le Guin came back to Earthsea, and found herself looking at how it came to be such a man’s world, and how it could be fixed, things which her introduction discusses a little.

On a non-story note, I did notice some changes in the illustrated edition. Some were obviously good corrections (my old Penguin had plain-sailing as a “sacred” skill on Roke, while this version has it as “scanted”, which is much more likely)… and others I have arguments with, like changing “in wizardly fashion” to “in wizardry fashion”. I think it was right the first time! And my other comment is that I wish there was an illustration of the otak. My visual imagination is non-existent, though I’ve muzzily over the years somehow come to the conclusion that it’s basically a carnivorous guinea pig.

Rating: 5/5

A Wizard of Earthsea, Ursula Le Guin

I read this shortly after Ursula Le Guin’s death was announced, and it was a comfort: “Only in silence the word, only in dark the light, only in dying life.” There are aspects of Le Guin’s world that it takes The Other Wind to truly make satisfying and comforting, but all the same, it’s always a relief to come to Earthsea. It’s beautifully written, and though the women are absent (fixed or at least commented on in later Earthsea books) and one could wish for more dragons, it still works.

I don’t think there’s more I can say, beyond noting that the book saved my life.

Rating: 5/5

Changing Planes, Ursula Le Guin

This collection of short stories are all linked by a single idea: when we’re waiting in an airport, we can just slip away to another dimension, or ‘plane’. If you haven’t heard of this phenomenon, I do recommend Ursula Le Guin’s travel memoir — a little out of date now, perhaps, but certainly a good introduction to some of the planes that are out there. Her choice of stories might seem pointed at times — there’s an inherent criticism of all things commercialised in her discussions of the Holiday Plane, for example — but the locals she speaks to and the stories she reveals are fascinating nonetheless. I don’t think I’d want to visit all of these planes, but the Library of Mahigul sounds fascinating, and I’d love to take a DNA sequencer to Islac and try to puzzle out quite how they got their genomes into such a mess.

Of course, there are many other planes out there that Le Guin did not cover, and doubtless there are fascinating stories she could have told and never had time to tell, or never wanted to tell. I’m sure there’s a fair share of utter tragedy and horror out there — but also beauty, and Le Guin finds that even in some of the sadder places.

A recommended read — especially if you’re going to be flying soon.

Rating: 4/5