Back in the late 90s and early 2000s, I subscribed to a literary magazine called Cicada that mixed realism and genre, stories by teenage authors with stories by professionals. (It's still in print, apparently. Good for it.) Every two months issues appeared on my doorstep, introducing me to new works by Neil Gaiman, Patricia McKillip, Naomi Shihab Nye. I didn't love everything they printed, but I loved a lot of it--and I fell particularly hard and deep for "Very Far Away from Anywhere Else," which filled the better part of one issue and which I remember reading, all in one sitting, curled up in my aunt's living room chair.
As works by Le Guin go, it's minor--perhaps her most minor. Published as a stand-alone book, it doesn't even hit 100 pages and practically vanishes on my shelf. I have read less-than-glowing reviews of it that dismiss its didacticism, simplicity, and quaintness, and I can't really argue. But as a teenager, it hit me like a ton of bricks. There's a concept that poly people are fond of talking about called the "relationship escalator," the idea that first you date, then you become exclusive, then you marry, then you have kids, all these steps lined up one two three--and the idea that you don't have to ride the relationship escalator, that you can step off and still build a relationship that's valid and meaningful and true. Very Far Away from Anywhere Else was the first book to talk to me about, I guess, the life escalator, and to tell me it was okay to get off, not in a "run away and hide in the forest" kind of way but in a way that meant picking and choosing the parts that mattered to you and doing them in the order you wanted.
When I was sixteen years old my grandparents wanted to buy me a car, and I said no thank you. We negotiated. I got a copy of the full and complete Oxford English Dictionary instead, all twenty volumes of it. Almost eighteen years later, I still don't have a car and I still refer back to that dictionary. I have no regrets. And I have Owen and his conflict with his father to thank for that choice, to thank for showing me that there was a choice to make. Very Far Away from Anywhere Else talked to me about other things, too, like the difference between loving someone and being in love with them, like what it meant to create your own meaning of life. In many ways those are bigger things, more important things. Other books by Le Guin have told me other big things, other important things, have filled my heart and my mind. But sometimes it's the little things, the little choices, that have the biggest impact on your life.
I can't tell you how well this book reads for someone who doesn't first encounter it at the exact right moment of adolescence, because I was not that person. But I can tell you that, even on reread, it touches my heart.