The Farthest Shore

I continue to trundle my commuting-way through Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea series: the next book to fall before my omnivorous eyes was The Farthest Shore.

... wherein we return to our hero, Ged, now the Archmage, widely recognized as important and powerful. He has matured and is generally better-regulated in terms of mood and garrulousness. But the dilemma of the book is that all magical power is being sapped out of the world, as well as all hope, determination, faith, and fellow-feeling. All apparently gone, to be replaced by isolation, fear of death, substance addiction, slavery, etc. --- dark subjects not previously indicated as widespread in Earthsea. Yet here they are, with a focal point somewhere in the west.

Having previously travelled so far east that he went beyond maps and map-monsters to a mythical location in the ocean, where he confronted his own death, Ged and his intrepid sidekick Arren now travel to the western extremity of the world, encountering again the dragons we remember there, and go beyond --- into the very realm of death. Which of course they do not conquer, but they at least come to terms with it, which is all that decent people can be expected to do in this life. Again Le Guin's powerful writing is about people trying to find satisfaction in their own lives, without seeking glory or any other outside acknowledgement.

Having travelled now furthest east, furthest west, to the southernmost islands, and spent his power to close a hole in the world, the worn-out Ged is given a merciful retirement to his home island, delivered as all heroes are on dragonback. The balance of the world is restored, a king is placed on the long-empty throne, and all people have a giant attitude-adjustment so that everything works better and more smoothly in society. Hooray!

This book was as magical as the others, but the sneaky parts about despair and suspicion and distrust were not sneaky enough --- I thought it was clear, based on the language used, that the suspicion of each character for the others was being imposed by a cloud of evil magic, and I wondered why the main characters just went with it instead of introspecting about their own suspicion for even a minute. But that's okay, it's a "young adult" book, I cannot expect everything of every book. It was still great, and the author's note at the end of the book featured all the grown-up introspection that I knew was hiding beneath the surface of the novel, delivered in beautifully clear and poetic prose.


This post's theme word is onomasticon, "a dictionary of names, esp. personal names or place names." The onomasticon is the most powerful tome in Earthsea, since magic, power, and control are all rooted in knowing proper names of things.

Tombs of Atuan

The wonders of Earthsea continue with Ursula K. Le Guin's The Tombs of Atuan. The second book in the loose series features another protagonist, another coming-of-age of sorts. This time the protagonist is a teenage girl, Tenar, the reincarnated focus of a religion that (to pick up on outside clues) is confined to a small part of Earthsea, and diminishing.  Tenar is in many ways the opposite of young Ged: she is accustomed to solitude, and not asking too many questions or receiving too many answers. She does not receive training or much guidance. She has no great dreams of adventure or power, content to be more inward-looking; but she fully explores her domain (a remote religious installation in the desert) and masters it. Like Ged, she must give up childish ideas to become adult, and like Ged, her choices have far-reaching consequences which she must learn to accept and weave into her own character in order to be a whole, complete person.

Just like the previous one, this book was a short, quick, satisfying read. As you, dear reader, may perhaps have realized, I am usually reading several books at once, and this means that my brain draws strange connections between them. This book was wonderful in contrast with Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Castle (blog post forthcoming), which robbed its sole featured female character of any agency. Here, women are abundant, and interact with each other as people. The book passes the Bechdel test with flying colors, surpassing that minimum requirement and going on to make female characters important, to make their choices matter, to make important plot points and even the continuation of the book, or the universe. Also, to make this not a big deal.

Our previous protagonist, Ged, does make an appearance. He shows up partway through the book, and serves as a nice connection to the rest of Earthsea outside the parched abbey's walls and closed mindset. This is nice, but Ged doesn't take center stage, and although we readers know the outcome of the book from quite early (it is listed in Ged's long list of mythic accomplishments, at the end of the previous book), it is nice to see the detail that surrounds the one-sentence Summary of Legend. And this does not detract from Tenar's centrality or importance. Ged himself bows to her decisions, puts his life in her hands, and listens carefully when she decides, and often changes her mind, about what she wants to do.


This post's theme word is darkle, "to make or become dark." The darkling cave quenched all light, crushed all hope, and was decorated with many pretty pictures (which unfortunately no one would ever see again).