Thank You, Ursula K. Le Guin (1929 – 2018)

In early January, I was at a local bookstore when I came across Ursula K. Le Guin’s most recent book, No Time to Spare: Thinking About What Matters. This collection shows Le Guin, who excelled at writing a wide range of literature (fantasy, science fiction, children’s stories, essays, poetry), exploring yet another form of writing: blogging. Yes, No Time to Spare is a collection of blog posts, in which Le Guin shares her thoughts on family, the publishing industry, society and the world at large – and, perhaps most notably, aging. And I knew, just from holding the small blue hardcover and perusing the pages within, that it would be different from any UKLG book I’d read before.

Yet there was no question in my mind that I’d buy it. Because, after all, it’s Ursula K. Le Guin, my favorite writer ever. I’ve loved everything I’ve read from her in the past, and the thought of bringing No Time to Spare home was like opening my inner circle to a new friend whom I felt I’d known forever.

How fitting that this book, where Le Guin was contemplating the final frontier of life, was the last one she published, and the last one I bought by her, before she passed away.

“I Still Don’t Know What Spare Time Is Because All My Life Is… Occupied By Living”

When I first read Le Guin’s obituary in Publisher’s Weekly (she died on January 22nd, and I found out two days later), all kinds of emotions sluiced through me. Shock, since news of someone’s death is always like a punch in the gut for me. Then grief, since it hurt to know that someone who had a huge impact on my life is gone. Then awkwardness, because I didn’t actually know her, had never met her, so why was I reacting this way? Then, finally, a calm and bittersweet sense of reflection and reason, since Le Guin, who was 88 years old, was said to have been in poor health for several months. And judging from the content of No Time to Spare, she’d been thinking about the end of her life for a while.

I may not have known Le Guin, but this much, I think, is true: She lived her best life. She wrote the kinds of stories she wanted to write, experimented endlessly with her craft, and spoke her truths with elegance and wit, compassion and incisiveness. And courage, always with courage.

“For Magic Consists in This, the True Naming of a Thing”

In the midst of my reflections, I found myself going back to UKLG’s individual books. The first one was A Wizard of Earthsea (1968), which was also the first Le Guin novel I read.

I bought A Wizard of Earthsea not long after I’d finished J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and was looking for more fantasy classics. The funny thing is, if you’d asked me back then why I loved A Wizard of Earthsea, I probably would have told you how AMAZING Earthsea was as an invented world and so wonderfully different from Middle-Earth, Narnia, and so on. I might also have told you how much I LOVED Le Guin’s writing, and how AMAZING the story was, too. (You can read more about my praises of A Wizard of Earthsea here.) But after that, I don’t think I would have gone into greater detail. The story hadn’t been with me long enough for me to truly know why I loved it.

Now, 10 years later, I do know why.

For starters, A Wizard of Earthsea was the first fantasy novel I read where the antagonist is neither an evil lord nor a corrupt monarch. Instead, it’s the protagonist’s own dark side. As a young man, Ged Sparrowhawk is proud and reckless, toying with dangerous magic with no regard for the consequences. Eventually, one of his conjurings looses a shadow creature, a believed-to-be demon that later pursues Ged across Earthsea. When Ged learns what this shadow actually is, he realizes that, in order to restore balance to the world and within himself, he cannot destroy his own shadow, but rather confront it and accept its existence.

It’s a drastic shift from the typical plot-driven fantasy where a hero or heroine must defeat an external adversary – and a profound shift as well. There’s something more convincing and terrifying about facing the darkest parts of ourselves, because we all must do it at some point in our lives. So while A Wizard of Earthsea may not be as grand in scale as other fantasy classics, its focus on characters, inner wisdom, and the cost of ambition make it a truly memorable, and surprisingly realistic, coming-of-age tale.

Second, A Wizard of Earthsea examines the power of words to a depth that other fantasy novels I’d read up to that point, and even since then, don’t quite reach. Sure, Tolkien made speech a vital part of Middle-Earth, from his invented languages to key spells involving words. (Remember the Door of Durin and “Speak, friend, and enter”?) Le Guin, however, took this a step further with Earthsea’s magic system.

Through schooling and life experience, Ged (as well as the reader) learns that all things in Earthsea, including people, have a true name in the Old Speech, the language of Earthsea’s dragons. When one knows the true name of something (or someone else), one has power over that object or person. This explains why each person also has a non-magical use-name, and shares their true name only with those they trust. In addition, dragons can lie in their native tongue, but humans cannot. They are bound to the truth when they use the Old Speech, which means they must choose their words with precision and care.

Think about that. A magic system that emphasizes the intrinsic power of words. It’s as if UKLG created a world with the intention of implying – or, rather, confirming – that words, in themselves, are magical. They can raise one’s spirits, soothe one’s soul, empower one to do what they never dared to do before. They can also hurt one’s feelings, sunder relationships, and bring different peoples or nations to the brink of war. It’s not necessarily a new idea – in fact, most writers and bookworms are keenly aware of the impact of using the right (and wrong) words. But it’s undeniably poignant and relevant, especially in our world today.

“You Were Made to Hold Light, as a Lamp Burning Holds and Gives Its Light”

A Wizard of Earthsea marked the beginning of my admiration, and adoration, of UKLG and her work. I sought out the rest of her Earthsea novels after that: The Tombs of AtuanThe Farthest ShoreTehanuThe Other Wind, and the short story collection Tales from Earthsea. Diving into each one felt like returning to a beloved place from my childhood. And with every story, I learned I could always trust UKLG to reveal more about this ancient archipelago and introduce me to more characters who, thanks to their strengths and flaws, felt as real as the world they lived in.

If I had to choose, my favorite Earthsea novel would be The Tombs of Atuan (1971). Like A Wizard of Earthsea, it’s unique from other fantasy novels of its time in that it features a predominantly female cast, including a female protagonist. And what a protagonist Tenar is. Independent, curious, strong in spirit – yet for much of Tombs, we only see glimpses of her true self. Her position as a high priestess of the Nameless Ones, with the duty of overseeing the ominous underground tombs of her deities, forces to repress her personality and feelings. But once she meets Ged and begins to question everything she knows, she finds the courage to rebel against the priestesshood, escape the tombs, and forge her own destiny. And that climax scene, when the tombs collapse behind Tenar and Ged flee… What a powerful moment. I can still hear the roaring and feel the shuddering of the earth under my feet as I did when I first read it.

“It’s Not Death that Allows Us to Understand One Another, But Poetry.”

Once I finished the Earthsea cycle, I began seeking out more of Le Guin’s work. And if you’re aware of how extensive her back catalog is, you know how easily it could fill up a bookshelf or two (or maybe three). Every book of hers I’ve read since then has given  me more reasons to be in awe of her versatility, ingenuity, and mastery of her craft. So, rather than going on and on about every UKLG book I’ve ever read (because I could very easily do that!), I’ll stick to five that have resonated with me most, with the year that each was originally published.

Lavinia (2008): Once could call Lavinia a retelling of Vergil’s The Aeneid. I think of it as Le Guin giving the wife of Aeneas her own voice so she can tell her story. Thus, Lavinia expands on the epic poem, shedding light on what Lavinia’s life might have been like before and after her tragic marriage. I’d already been impressed by Le Guin’s elegant, lyrical prose before. But Lavinia was when it truly took my breath away. This is the UKLG book that made me think, “I want my own writing to exude the same qualities as hers, but in its own way.”

Changing Planes (2003): This interplanetary travelogue was my gateway into UKLG’s science fiction. It asks the question, “What if airports were secretly a means of traveling to other worlds?” And with each chapter, Le Guin shares a vignette of one such world a traveler could visit. Every society is unique and intricate, and every setting exotic and vividly portrayed. When I finished reading, I was staggered by the sheer amount of imagination Le Guin wielded from start to finish, and by the issues plaguing these fictional cultures and how they closely mirrored our own. She was more than just an expert worldbuilder. She was also a keen observer and an unrivaled visionary.

The Left Hand of Darkness (1969): Considered a science fiction classic, The Left Hand of Darkness follows the diplomat Genly Ai as he struggles to politically and personally understand the androgynous Gethenians, who are neither male nor female but capable of assuming either sex depending on the lunar cycle. So, naturally, Genly’s evolution from repulsion to acceptance of the Gethenians and his willingness to expand his worldview is moving to witness. But the one character I’ll never forget from Left Hand is Therem Harth rem ir Estraven, one of the Gethenians. His compassion, courage, and private shame touched me in a way that’s still hard to describe. Even the term “sympathize with” doesn’t come close enough.

Finding My Elegy: New and Selected Poems (2012): I remember finding this book at an indie bookstore on Cape Cod and thinking first, “Ursula Le Guin writes poetry? How did I not know this?!”, and then, “Of course she’d write poetry. She writes just about everything else!” It turns out her poetry is just as graceful and insightful as her longer works. Her topics range from nature, war, and humanity, to aging, motherhood, and creativity; and her writing glimmers with an eye for beauty, a reverence for the unknown, and occasional humor. In fact, the simplicity of Le Guin’s poetry reminds me of the style of Mary Oliver, one of my other favorite poets.

The Lathe of Heaven (1971): This science fiction novel explores the possibility of our sleeping dreams manifesting into reality – and being manipulated by others for their own purposes. It’s a psychological, and ultimately more frightening, twist on the concept of power struggles. That was the main reason why I found The Lathe of Heaven impossible to put down: The idea that someone of authority, someone who you’re supposed to trust, could use you as a means of remaking the world to their liking, and you’d feel powerless to stop them. Of course I loved the writing and futuristic world-building, too. But the premise and its persuasive delivery, more than anything else, was what rocked me to the core.

“The One Thing I Am Not / and He Is Not, Nor Can We Be, Is Death”

Looking back on my favorite Le Guin stories also compels me to look ahead. Not necessarily to new works (who knows what kinds of posthumous UKLG material might be published down the road?), but to the many other books she published during her lifetime. More poetry books, short story collections such as The Found and the Lost and The Unreal and the Real, novels like Gifts and The Word for World is Forest, even books on the craft of writing. They’re all gems I’ve yet to mine, more writings of hers to savor and absorb. That’s the one of the joys of loving UKLG’s work: She may be gone, but she’d been writing and publishing for so long that her work will keep me occupied for years. And for that, I’m immensely grateful, and more eager than ever to continue.

And I’m not the only one. In the years since I first read A Wizard of Earthsea, I’ve met myriad readers who have yet to check out Le Guin’s work  – which, of course, I quickly remedied with a few recommendations (or, in some cases, her books as gifts). I’ve also met people who loved her writing as much as I did. Oddly enough, the interactions of the latter that I remember most are with booksellers.

For instance, the day I bought Finding My Elegy, I was still quivering with excitement over discovering that Le Guin was a poet when the bookseller, a woman in her 60s, began ringing up my order. When she came to UKLG’s book, she paused, then hugged it and gave me a look of heartfelt approval. I didn’t find her reaction strange at all. In fact, I said, “I know,” and felt my kid-in-a-candy-store grin grow even wider.

Then there’s the most recent one, when I bought No Time to Spare last month. This bookseller, a man in his 40s, also complimented my choice of purchase, which led to a brief conversation about UKLG’s writing in general, and then to Earthsea. And the bookseller said, “The YA fantasy out there right now is nothing compared to hers. Every time a kid comes in asking for those kinds of books, I steer them toward Earthsea. I tell them to read about her dragons. Hers are the coolest dragons you’ll ever read about.”

“Thank you,” I wanted to tell him. Not only for agreeing with me about Le Guin’s dragons, but also for continuing to introduce young readers to her worlds and stories. And something tells me he’ll continue doing so for years to come.

My current collection of Le Guin books, both read and unread.

**Quotes for headings taken from (1) No Time to Spare, (2) A Wizard of Earthsea, (3) The Tombs of Atuan, (4) Lavinia, and (5) “The Body of the World,” from Finding My Elegy: New and Selected Poems.

38 thoughts on “Thank You, Ursula K. Le Guin (1929 – 2018)

  1. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever read anything by her. (I plan on fixing this) But I do remember being sad when hearing of her passing. The world needs its artists (yes, I believe books are art), and every human life is precious… so I feel for you. Is it okay if I message you as soon as I read one?

    Liked by 2 people

    • That sounds like a good thing to fix. 😉 And I agree with you: writing in any form is an art. And I think many, many others would say the same.

      You can certainly message me on Twitter after you’ve read any of UKLG’s books. I can’t guarantee when I’d respond; I don’t have a lot of time or energy for social media right now. But I’ll receive a notification and read / respond when I’m able to.

      Thanks so much for reading, Andrea. 🙂

      Liked by 2 people

  2. I consider myself fairly well-read, but, like all readers, I have gaps. Ursula K. Le Guin is one of them. Yep, I’m one of those ‘myriad readers who have yet to check out Le Guin’s work’. But you’ve certainly whetted my appetite. Given my interest in Gestalt and suchlike views of our personalities as multi-faceted, Ged’s battle with himself sounds very interesting. Thanks for this, Sara.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Completely understandable, John. I also have gaps in my reading, with several well-known or long-time SFF authors I’ve yet to check out. With Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea is a good place to start. It’s short in length and compact in scope (UKLG wasn’t one for writing epic sagas), and it’s a great introduction to the world of Earthsea.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. “What if airports were secretly a means of traveling to other worlds?”
    What if indeed! Harry Potter’s train station only took him to one other world, fascinating though it is.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. A beautiful tribute to a talented writer. I read the Earthsea books a few years ago, on your recommendation, I believe, and I really enjoyed them. I keep hearing so many of her works mentioned as standouts in the fnatasy/sci-fi genre, and I always think I must read them. I was sad to hear of her death.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. What a lovely, lovely post, Sara! I’ve read the Earthsea trilogy and Left Hand of Darkness – but I have to confess a prejudice… because she is the token woman who is often wheeled out by the pale male majority who use her to show they are open-minded to female science fiction writers, I rather grumpily avoided the rest of her canon. Clearly, I’ve shot myself in the foot… I will start tracking down her other work – probably Himself has some of her books. Many thanks for your inspirational post:))

    Liked by 2 people

    • ^^ And I think UKLG was aware of that, and she DETESTED it. (Some of her works have a strong feminist slant, I should add.) In fact, I read a blog post somewhere not long after Ursula passed away, where she was invited to offer a blurb for an SF anthology that featured only male writers. This was how she turned down the offer:

      I hope you do read more of her stories in the future, Sarah. Maybe The Lathe of Heaven might be a good place to start? It’s a little outdated now, but the story it tells… Well, I think the paragraph in the post itself already says what I think of it well enough. 😉

      Thank you for reading, Sarah!

      Liked by 2 people

      • Oh, you are ALWAYS worth reading, but I particularly loved this article – and thank you for your link to that letter. I’d like to be able to say that mindset no longer exists within the science fiction community – but sadly, that wouldn’t be the case… Go UKLG for continuing to challenge it when she was so well established, she didn’t actually need to!

        I’ll certainly see if I can track down Lathe of Heaven. Himself may well have some of her books…

        Liked by 2 people

  6. That’s a wonderful tribute/reflection on Le Guin.
    I felt sorta the same when I heard the news. I was shocked because I’d recently read No Time to Spare (back in Nov or Dec) and was a bit sad, but then I felt weird because I don’t know her or have even read much of her work. The bits I’ve read, however, have convinced me that she is a great author and I’d like to try more of her books. Other than No Time to Spare, I’ve only read the first three of the Earthsea books.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Zezee. 🙂 If you liked the first three Earthsea novels, then definitely finish the series. I think the last two novels are Tehanu and The Other Wind (and should be read in that order; otherwise, TOW won’t make a lot of sense), and then there’s the Tales From Earthsea short story collection. From there, it depends on what genre or type of story you’re interesting in checking out.

      Liked by 2 people

  7. A couple of years ago, a literary fiction editor visited our Master of Publishing class, and said that Ursula K. Le Guin’s book on writing was one of the best someone could read to understand how to edit their work. That, to me, just showed her amazing qualities–that her preferred genre didn’t matter–that she was revered in them all, as a whole.

    Liked by 2 people

    • ^^ This makes my overtired little heart happy tonight. I’m guessing the editor was talking about “Steering the Craft”? That’s one of the UKLG books I haven’t read yet (I actually bought it recently, after I took the “collection” photo at the end of this post), but I’ve heard amazing things about it. Thanks for sharing this, Ariel. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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  9. This makes me really want to read some Le Guin! I actually never have before. The only thing close is I watched the Studio Ghibli film the Tales of Earthsea which I enjoyed. I’ve officially put A Wizard of Earthsea on my reading list!

    Liked by 2 people

    • I haven’t seen the Studio Ghibli film, but from what I’ve read, it combines plot elements and characters from the first four Earthsea novels and creates a totally different story. But if you like the general impression you had of the characters and the world-building, then you’ll probably like the novels as well. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  10. I’m so happy I read this post of yours. I had meant to read LeGuin for decades (well, ever since I became a fantasy lover) but I only came to her after her passing, as I started reading Earthsea with a group of readers.
    I’m sorry to say, I don’t think I’m the right reader for her work. I have a very hard time connecting, and I’m sorry, because I know she is one of the great fantasy storytellers. So I’m happy to read the experience of someone who loves her, so that I can appreciate her a litte more though you.
    Thanks for sharing 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • No need to apologize, Sarah. 😉 I totally understand that UKLG’s work isn’t for everyone. But I’m glad to hear you gave Earthsea a try! Maybe you might have an easier time with one of her science fiction novels? Or is it her overall style of writing that isn’t working for you?

      Liked by 1 person

  11. It was a great post, Sara. I haven’t read that much of UKLG’s books (mostly because back when I was young my reading was limited to what was available in Polish, and preferably in libraries), but I do have fond memories of those I’ve read.
    And Tombs of Atuan are also my favorite book from the Earthsea series. They were so beautiful and so different from what I was reading at the time. In a way, I’m scared to go back and re-read that book. What if it doesn’t live up to my youth’s experience?

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Joanna. 🙂 I haven’t re-read The Tombs of Atuan in full myself (just enough to refresh my memory for this post), but it was during that flip-through that it struck me once again just how groundbreaking that book was in terms of female characters in fantasy literature. It was very tempting to just continue for page after page… So who knows? Maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised upon a re-reading.

      Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you, Jenna! 🙂 And the thing with UKLG’s books that she’s written so many and in multiple genres. So if you didn’t care for A Wizard of Earthsea, maybe one of her science fiction or other novels might be a better fit.

      Liked by 1 person

  12. Seeing that a beloved author has died always does feel like a shock. Somehow, they seem almost like friends. We’ve spent so much time in their worlds, reading their thoughts, bonding with their characters! It’s sad, of course, knowing that we won’t (usually) have more books from them. But I think the experience is really more of a personal loss, somehow, even if we never met them in real life. But that’s also a powerful testimony to their writing and the way writing can connect us.

    Liked by 2 people

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