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Earthsea Cycle #3
The Farthest Shore
DARKNESS THREATENS to overtake Earthsea. As the world and its wizards are losing their magic, Ged -- powerful Archmage, wizard, and dragonlord -- embarks on a sailing journey with highborn young prince, Arren. They travel far beyond the realm of death to discover the cause of these evil disturbances and to restore magic to a land desperately thirsty for it.
With millions of copies sold, Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea Cycle has earned a treasured place on the shelves of fantasy lovers everywhere. Complex, innovative, and deeply moral, this quintessential fantasy sequence has been compared with the work of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, and has helped make Le Guin one of the most distinguished fantasy and science fiction writers of all time. She lives in Portland, Oregon.
259 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1972
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About the author
Ursula K. Le Guin
1,043 books30.1k followersUrsula K. Le Guin published twenty-two novels, eleven volumes of short stories, four collections of essays, twelve books for children, six volumes of poetry and four of translation, and has received many awards: Hugo, Nebula, National Book Award, PEN-Malamud, etc. Her recent publications include the novel Lavinia, an essay collection, Cheek by Jowl, and The Wild Girls. She lived in Portland, Oregon.
She was known for her treatment of gender (The Left Hand of Darkness, The Matter of Seggri), political systems (The Telling, The Dispossessed) and difference/otherness in any other form. Her interest in non-Western philosophies was reflected in works such as "Solitude" and The Telling but even more interesting are her imagined societies, often mixing traits extracted from her profound knowledge of anthropology acquired from growing up with her father, the famous anthropologist, Alfred Kroeber. The Hainish Cycle reflects the anthropologist's experience of immersing themselves in new strange cultures since most of their main characters and narrators (Le Guin favoured the first-person narration) are envoys from a humanitarian organization, the Ekumen, sent to investigate or ally themselves with the people of a different world and learn their ways.
She was known for her treatment of gender (The Left Hand of Darkness, The Matter of Seggri), political systems (The Telling, The Dispossessed) and difference/otherness in any other form. Her interest in non-Western philosophies was reflected in works such as "Solitude" and The Telling but even more interesting are her imagined societies, often mixing traits extracted from her profound knowledge of anthropology acquired from growing up with her father, the famous anthropologist, Alfred Kroeber. The Hainish Cycle reflects the anthropologist's experience of immersing themselves in new strange cultures since most of their main characters and narrators (Le Guin favoured the first-person narration) are envoys from a humanitarian organization, the Ekumen, sent to investigate or ally themselves with the people of a different world and learn their ways.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 4,858 reviews
November 27, 2017
Decades before J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone, and even longer before Patrick Rothfuss’ The Name of the Wind, came a school of magic that clearly inspired them all. It does not take centre stage in this series, Sparrowhawk has that honour, but it does play a major role in the workings of this beautiful fantasy world.
And I don’t use that word liberally. Not only is the scenery vivid and vast, bordering upon the picturesque in regards to its language, it is also a powerful force. Sparrowhawk perceives this in its entirety and he tries to impart his wisdom to his new student Arren. Understanding the importance of a balance within nature, between life and death, is a precursor to comprehending one’s own fate and the purpose of existence itself. Sparrowhawk is more than a wizard; he is also a spiritual guide and a great teacher.
An unlikely student
Arren is not gifted with magic. Nor is he a skilled warrior or particularly cunning. He has never killed anybody or performed a heroic deed. He does not comprehend the wisdom he hears; yet, for some reason, the old wizard has seen something in him and asks for his assistance with his new quest. But why choose someone so inexperienced? Sparrowhawk has seen a flicker of courage behind the boy’s eyes; he knows that one day he will have the strength to succeed in the face of great evil, so he encourages him and teaches him how to be an effective leader.
Arren is a prince and Sparrowhawk attempts to temper his greatness. The two embark on their quest; the details of which aren’t overly important. What is important is what the wizard is trying to show the future king. Sparrowhawk has no apprentice, no successor, but if he can impart his knowledge to a boy who will one day rule thousands, then his life will not be wasted as his ideas will spread much further. He questions the boy and encourages him to look beyond his own human imperfections:
"In our minds, lad. In our minds. The traitor, the self, the self that cries I want to live, let the world rot so long as I can live! The little traitor soul in us, in the dark, like a spider in a box. He talks to all of us. But only some understand him. The wizards, the singers, the makers. And the heroes, the ones who seek to be themselves. To be oneself is a rare thing, and a great one. To be oneself forever, is that not greater still?"
Le Guin is one of my favourite fantasy writers. There’s just something about the way in which she writes; she doesn’t waste a single word with her smooth and succinct prose. Her novels are thought provoking and her characters are wise. I’m looking forward to trying some of her science fiction after finishing this series and seeing how it compares. I've heard great things about some of them.
Earthsea Cycle
1. A Wizard of Earthsea- Four worthy stars
2. The Tombs of Atuan- A redeeming four stars
3. The Farthest Shore- A strong four stars
And I don’t use that word liberally. Not only is the scenery vivid and vast, bordering upon the picturesque in regards to its language, it is also a powerful force. Sparrowhawk perceives this in its entirety and he tries to impart his wisdom to his new student Arren. Understanding the importance of a balance within nature, between life and death, is a precursor to comprehending one’s own fate and the purpose of existence itself. Sparrowhawk is more than a wizard; he is also a spiritual guide and a great teacher.
An unlikely student
Arren is not gifted with magic. Nor is he a skilled warrior or particularly cunning. He has never killed anybody or performed a heroic deed. He does not comprehend the wisdom he hears; yet, for some reason, the old wizard has seen something in him and asks for his assistance with his new quest. But why choose someone so inexperienced? Sparrowhawk has seen a flicker of courage behind the boy’s eyes; he knows that one day he will have the strength to succeed in the face of great evil, so he encourages him and teaches him how to be an effective leader.
Arren is a prince and Sparrowhawk attempts to temper his greatness. The two embark on their quest; the details of which aren’t overly important. What is important is what the wizard is trying to show the future king. Sparrowhawk has no apprentice, no successor, but if he can impart his knowledge to a boy who will one day rule thousands, then his life will not be wasted as his ideas will spread much further. He questions the boy and encourages him to look beyond his own human imperfections:
"In our minds, lad. In our minds. The traitor, the self, the self that cries I want to live, let the world rot so long as I can live! The little traitor soul in us, in the dark, like a spider in a box. He talks to all of us. But only some understand him. The wizards, the singers, the makers. And the heroes, the ones who seek to be themselves. To be oneself is a rare thing, and a great one. To be oneself forever, is that not greater still?"
Le Guin is one of my favourite fantasy writers. There’s just something about the way in which she writes; she doesn’t waste a single word with her smooth and succinct prose. Her novels are thought provoking and her characters are wise. I’m looking forward to trying some of her science fiction after finishing this series and seeing how it compares. I've heard great things about some of them.
Earthsea Cycle
1. A Wizard of Earthsea- Four worthy stars
2. The Tombs of Atuan- A redeeming four stars
3. The Farthest Shore- A strong four stars
November 28, 2017
“I would not ask a sick man to run a race,” said Sparrowhawk, “nor lay a stone on an overburdened back.” It was not clear whether he spoke of himself or of the world at large. Always his answers were grudging, hard to understand. There, thought Arren, lay the very heart of wizardry: to hint at mighty meanings while saying nothing at all, and to make doing nothing at all seem the very crown of wisdom."
There are surely better passages to quote than the above to encapsulate the meaning or theme of this book but I think it's a fine example of Le Guin's beautiful writing and her ever-present wit. Besides, “to make doing nothing at all seem the very crown of wisdom.” is a skill I would like to acquire; where do I sign up for that?
The Farthest Shore is the longest of the original Earthsea Trilogy but still a mere pamphlet by today's "doorstop" standard for fantasy books, which can be weaponized by simply hurling at your target. It takes place seventeen years after events of The Tombs of Atuan, and the series hero Ged (AKA Sparrowhawk) is now old and occupies the lofty position of Archmage. The story basically concerns "a hole in the world" that is sucking life, love, magic, names and other essentials out of the world (this strangely reminds me of the runaway black hole David Brin's Earth that I am still in the middle of). It falls to Ged and his young princely companion Arren to investigate and put an end to Earthsea's first global crisis before the entire world is devoured. That is the basic plot but does not begin to cover the point of the novel.
Ged & Arren. Art by Rebecca Guay
I believe this is the most philosophical volume of the original trilogy (thereby excluding the subsequent volumes - #4 onward - which I have not read). One of the main themes is the balance between life and death and how one give rise to the other in a cyclical manner. The idea of immortality is frowned upon as it upsets this balance and makes life meaningless. Ged's old age is often contrasted with Arren's youth, and they represent how the old must makes sacrifices for the young. This book is the slowest paced of the Trilogy, most of it is focused on the arduous and harrowing journey of the two central characters. While Ged is front and centre of the story the narrative point-of-view is almost entirely from Arren's perspective, thereby underlining his importance in the scheme of things. The character Arren is similar to Tenar in the The Tombs of Atuan and Ged himself in A Wizard of Earthsea in that he starts off as a naive young lad and develops into a man of substance by the story's conclusion. It is interesting that Le Guin achieves dramatic effect without an epic climactic battle in the final stretch of the book, the "fights" such as they are start and end very quickly and almost dismissively. The drama is achieved through tension and consequences of actions and events.
Dragon's Run by Astrid Nielsch
Dragons play a much more significant role in this book, and the world of Earthsea continues to develop wonderfully. Particularly notable are the raft-folks whose water-based community may have inspired a similar culture in China Miéville's The Scar, another fantastic book.
The Farthest Shore is not as breezy as A Wizard of Earthsea, not as dark as The Tombs of Atuan, but more emotional and melancholic than both. The end of the book wraps up the story of Ged beautifully. Here is a character we followed from his youth as a gifted goat herder boy, to a confident young man in the second book and now a strong and wise leader of the mages. As I understand it Le Guin came back to write Tehanu, the fourth book is the series more than twenty years after the publication of this book. I have not read it yet but the consensus opinion seems to be unfavorable, apparently it has a much more adult theme. I will have to read for myself soon. In any case, the first three books are some of the best fantasy I have ever read.
Note:
Ged and Arren from Tales from Earthsea.
Tales from Earthsea is the 2006 animated adaptation of the whole Earthsea series into one movie by Studio Ghibli. I have not seen it but the consensus review is not encouraging! Le Guin is also not happy with it, while there are some visual elements she likes, she said "watching an entirely different story, confusingly enacted by people with the same names as in my story". Not up to the standard of Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro I suppose.
November 19, 2019
I don't really know what there is to say about a book that managed to evoke both some of the most difficult moments and the most wonderful moments I've ever experienced. The discussions of death, depression, and suicide are intense and very real, yet so are the moments of beauty. Late in the book, Arren thinks to himself, "I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning," and I immediately recognized that feeling of breathless appreciation that I have only ever known to be prompted by the perfect moment in nature or truly great art. Le Guin was, without a doubt, both a great artist and a great appreciator of the beauty in life, and both are very apparent in this book.
August 9, 2017
This wraps up Le Guin's original trilogy of Ged, better known as Sparrowhawk, the greatest wizard of Earthsea, and even though I really enjoyed it, something about it keeps nagging me.
It's about death, the deathlands, and the end of magic. That's not the problem. In fact, that's the best part of it.
I suppose it's just the feel that this story is the end of Ged after I just started to get to know him. That cocky kid and cocky adult just metamorphosed into an old man. I mean, sure, he's still the same cocky and hard-earned wise man and he really shines when he picks up companions, like this young future king, but it seems like he's always having to correct his old mistakes.
Of course, that's kinda the point, too.
As a fantasy, I think it's still pretty wonderful. I guess I'm just grousing because I prefer a younger wizard. :)
It's about death, the deathlands, and the end of magic. That's not the problem. In fact, that's the best part of it.
I suppose it's just the feel that this story is the end of Ged after I just started to get to know him. That cocky kid and cocky adult just metamorphosed into an old man. I mean, sure, he's still the same cocky and hard-earned wise man and he really shines when he picks up companions, like this young future king, but it seems like he's always having to correct his old mistakes.
Of course, that's kinda the point, too.
As a fantasy, I think it's still pretty wonderful. I guess I'm just grousing because I prefer a younger wizard. :)
January 22, 2021
I'm somewhat conflicted by this book. It took me longer to read than expected. I really, really enjoyed The Tombs of Atuan You can read my review here:- https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
I therefore had high hopes for 'The Farthest Shore'. However it disappointed. In a nutshell I didn't enjoy this book. Before I go into why I didn't, the obligatory free plug: My fantasy novels are available on Kindle Unlimited. If you like fantasy, here they are:-
Right! Now that's out of the way - what was wrong with 'Farthest Shore'?
To be honest I find it very hard to pin down EXACTLY what is wrong with it. Perhaps NOTHING and it's just me, I didn't enjoy it. What I cannot fault in this book is the writing. Le Guin uses poetic language and weaves some occasionally beautiful and often deep prose. She writes about wizards, while conducting her own wizardry on the page. This book is full of rich, vivid description, emotional and evocative dialogue, she's a master of the written word. Or is that mistress? No, you can't have a mistressy of the written word so she must be a master. Anyway, the writing is good. It's very good. It's perhaps at times TOO good, in that the striving for poetic, beautiful prose pays a price in clarity. At times I found myself glazing over and losing track of what was actually going on in the story.
When I review a book, I can't simply critique the writing. I have to rate it based on the story as a whole. The writing is an intrinsic part of that whole, but it isn't the be and end all. A display of skill doesn't always equal spectator enjoyment. It's a bit like when we watch the 8 year old Chinese pianist on 'Blue Peter' or a similar television program, showing off how they can play a grade 9 piano piece flawlessly, their fingers dancing over the keys faster than the eye can track. The notes being struck with such ferocity and speed they barely register in the mind, leaving us with a tune that is so complex it's impossible to hum or even recall. The display is impressive. We marvel at the skill, however do we actually enjoy the music? Personally, I don't tend to.
I feel like this book was the same. The writing was good, but the characters were flat. They lacked a key ingredient. Humanity. Humanity is critical to writing engaging characters. Even when they aren't human. I like the examples of Tenar from The Tombs of Atuan and Vexis Zaelwarsh from Rise of the Archmage. Tenar's early life as a priestess is bizarre. It's almost inhumanly unusual. During the course of the book she escapes a prison, not just a physical prison but a mental prison, where her way of thinking and acting has been controlled for a long time. The slow shift in her thoughts and attitude were portrayed exquisitely in Tombs of Atuan. She had a very human response to the events unfolding around her and at times you felt like you were actually in her head. You could empathize with her. I wrote Rise of the Archmage before I read Tombs of Atuan, but I see a lot of parallels between Vexis and Tenar. In Rise, Vexis is an ex-priestess, a dark elf, who has lost her faith and fled her community, having to learn how to fit into a very different society and not always getting it right. I liked her story, she wasn't human, but she had human flaws, she failed to understand people and was confused as to why events didn't unfold as she'd expected them to.
Back to Ged and Arren. What Tenar had and they don't have is humanity. They are hard to empathize with. Arren has this almost sycophantic hero worship of Ged. Yes, Ged is a legend in Le Guin's world, but the one-sided relationship makes them both seem like more two-dimensional characters. Arren is hard to empathize with for different reasons. With Ged, we followed him as a youngster when he unleashed the dark entity in book 1. We watched him grow and make mistakes and learn as he pursued it. With Tenar, we watched her emerge from a mental prison with the help of a still young and impetuous Ged, but a Ged who is sensitive and thoughtful and who manages to help Tenar as she helps him. Now Ged is older. He's made Archmage, he's settled into a job which means he's very revered, but he probably doesn't actually have to do much. Him setting out on a boat with this young prince because magic is dying seems odd. It doesn't sit right. Their conversations and actions are kind of flat? You don't actually feel like you're there, sharing the journey with them as you did Tenar in Tombs. There WAS a moment when I thought things might pick up. I won't go into how, but Arren became enslaved. For a moment was expecting to see a different, more human aspect of both his and Ged's character, but it didn't happen. Le Guin wrapped up the rescue in a couple of unremarkable paragraphs.
The final scenes, from the deranged dragons, unable to speak, to the villages of the dead were better. But it was the scenery and the intrigue that carried the story - NOT the characters. I think the ambiguity and vagueness of the villain throughout the book made it hard to engage. When they did meet Cob and engage in conflict with him it was better, it interesting, but not interesting enough to make up for the broadly speaking rather boring journey.
There are some deep themes in this book. It might be a book which takes several reads to fully appreciate, but for me that's a flaw with a book. The tone and the premise about accepting the inevitability of death doesn't sit well with me either. I don't like the message.
I will read on. I admire the prose in this book, it's very well written, but the story is lacking something. I've already started Tehanu as I bought the Earthsea Quartet as one book, and I'm already enjoying Tehanu FAR more. Tenar and Ogion are much more likable characters for some reason. Will I buy the fifth book? I don't know. It depends how Tehanu goes. I want to read Tenar's story and I also want to learn more about the children abandoned on the reef who are visited in book 1 and mentioned in book 2. They were absent in this volume, but I never really got closure over their tragic, almost heart-breaking lives. I think that's the key the a good fantasy novel. Characters YOU CARE ABOUT!
Despite the harrowing journey, the interesting scenes and the deep, philosophical theme of this book I never actually cared about the characters. If Ged and Arren had ended up drowning in the sea or being defeated by Cob, I'm not sure I'd have actually been bothered. I'd probably have been pleased that the next book would have to follow more interesting and engaging characters.
So to sum up, great writing, impressive book. However simply not that enjoyable to read. I could take or leave it at any time and had to force myself to finish it. The reason? The characters, Ged and Arren though portrayed in detail were just not characters I could bring myself to care about and that killed the book for me.
Paperback:- http://amzn.to/2xS0qSc
Kindle Edition:- http://amzn.to/2fO6GmQ
Martyn Stanley
Author of:-
The Last Dragon Slayer (Free to download)
I therefore had high hopes for 'The Farthest Shore'. However it disappointed. In a nutshell I didn't enjoy this book. Before I go into why I didn't, the obligatory free plug: My fantasy novels are available on Kindle Unlimited. If you like fantasy, here they are:-
Right! Now that's out of the way - what was wrong with 'Farthest Shore'?
To be honest I find it very hard to pin down EXACTLY what is wrong with it. Perhaps NOTHING and it's just me, I didn't enjoy it. What I cannot fault in this book is the writing. Le Guin uses poetic language and weaves some occasionally beautiful and often deep prose. She writes about wizards, while conducting her own wizardry on the page. This book is full of rich, vivid description, emotional and evocative dialogue, she's a master of the written word. Or is that mistress? No, you can't have a mistressy of the written word so she must be a master. Anyway, the writing is good. It's very good. It's perhaps at times TOO good, in that the striving for poetic, beautiful prose pays a price in clarity. At times I found myself glazing over and losing track of what was actually going on in the story.
When I review a book, I can't simply critique the writing. I have to rate it based on the story as a whole. The writing is an intrinsic part of that whole, but it isn't the be and end all. A display of skill doesn't always equal spectator enjoyment. It's a bit like when we watch the 8 year old Chinese pianist on 'Blue Peter' or a similar television program, showing off how they can play a grade 9 piano piece flawlessly, their fingers dancing over the keys faster than the eye can track. The notes being struck with such ferocity and speed they barely register in the mind, leaving us with a tune that is so complex it's impossible to hum or even recall. The display is impressive. We marvel at the skill, however do we actually enjoy the music? Personally, I don't tend to.
I feel like this book was the same. The writing was good, but the characters were flat. They lacked a key ingredient. Humanity. Humanity is critical to writing engaging characters. Even when they aren't human. I like the examples of Tenar from The Tombs of Atuan and Vexis Zaelwarsh from Rise of the Archmage. Tenar's early life as a priestess is bizarre. It's almost inhumanly unusual. During the course of the book she escapes a prison, not just a physical prison but a mental prison, where her way of thinking and acting has been controlled for a long time. The slow shift in her thoughts and attitude were portrayed exquisitely in Tombs of Atuan. She had a very human response to the events unfolding around her and at times you felt like you were actually in her head. You could empathize with her. I wrote Rise of the Archmage before I read Tombs of Atuan, but I see a lot of parallels between Vexis and Tenar. In Rise, Vexis is an ex-priestess, a dark elf, who has lost her faith and fled her community, having to learn how to fit into a very different society and not always getting it right. I liked her story, she wasn't human, but she had human flaws, she failed to understand people and was confused as to why events didn't unfold as she'd expected them to.
Back to Ged and Arren. What Tenar had and they don't have is humanity. They are hard to empathize with. Arren has this almost sycophantic hero worship of Ged. Yes, Ged is a legend in Le Guin's world, but the one-sided relationship makes them both seem like more two-dimensional characters. Arren is hard to empathize with for different reasons. With Ged, we followed him as a youngster when he unleashed the dark entity in book 1. We watched him grow and make mistakes and learn as he pursued it. With Tenar, we watched her emerge from a mental prison with the help of a still young and impetuous Ged, but a Ged who is sensitive and thoughtful and who manages to help Tenar as she helps him. Now Ged is older. He's made Archmage, he's settled into a job which means he's very revered, but he probably doesn't actually have to do much. Him setting out on a boat with this young prince because magic is dying seems odd. It doesn't sit right. Their conversations and actions are kind of flat? You don't actually feel like you're there, sharing the journey with them as you did Tenar in Tombs. There WAS a moment when I thought things might pick up. I won't go into how, but Arren became enslaved. For a moment was expecting to see a different, more human aspect of both his and Ged's character, but it didn't happen. Le Guin wrapped up the rescue in a couple of unremarkable paragraphs.
The final scenes, from the deranged dragons, unable to speak, to the villages of the dead were better. But it was the scenery and the intrigue that carried the story - NOT the characters. I think the ambiguity and vagueness of the villain throughout the book made it hard to engage. When they did meet Cob and engage in conflict with him it was better, it interesting, but not interesting enough to make up for the broadly speaking rather boring journey.
There are some deep themes in this book. It might be a book which takes several reads to fully appreciate, but for me that's a flaw with a book. The tone and the premise about accepting the inevitability of death doesn't sit well with me either. I don't like the message.
I will read on. I admire the prose in this book, it's very well written, but the story is lacking something. I've already started Tehanu as I bought the Earthsea Quartet as one book, and I'm already enjoying Tehanu FAR more. Tenar and Ogion are much more likable characters for some reason. Will I buy the fifth book? I don't know. It depends how Tehanu goes. I want to read Tenar's story and I also want to learn more about the children abandoned on the reef who are visited in book 1 and mentioned in book 2. They were absent in this volume, but I never really got closure over their tragic, almost heart-breaking lives. I think that's the key the a good fantasy novel. Characters YOU CARE ABOUT!
Despite the harrowing journey, the interesting scenes and the deep, philosophical theme of this book I never actually cared about the characters. If Ged and Arren had ended up drowning in the sea or being defeated by Cob, I'm not sure I'd have actually been bothered. I'd probably have been pleased that the next book would have to follow more interesting and engaging characters.
So to sum up, great writing, impressive book. However simply not that enjoyable to read. I could take or leave it at any time and had to force myself to finish it. The reason? The characters, Ged and Arren though portrayed in detail were just not characters I could bring myself to care about and that killed the book for me.
Paperback:- http://amzn.to/2xS0qSc
Kindle Edition:- http://amzn.to/2fO6GmQ
Martyn Stanley
Author of:-
The Last Dragon Slayer (Free to download)
March 7, 2024
To see a candle's light, one must take it into a dark place.
I think we love stories of human redemption because we want, always, to start anew, to be redeemed. We want to think of our own potential as a quality that is always just within our grasp, the sword in the stone that might move by our hand alone. What greatness may lie in the purity of our purpose?
I think we love stories of leaders who rise from humble beginnings because, frankly, the only good ones we've ever had have always begun that way. Our true leaders have never started out their lives with silver spoons. They're not meant to have criminal backgrounds or to be geriatric, either.
Where there is no direction, the deeds of men run shallow and wander and are wasted.
I think we will always have times that feel darker than others, when civilization seems to have run aground, when our future seems insecure.
No darkness lasts forever. And even there, there are stars. . .
I think it's important, always, to notice WHO is leading us and WHY. How do they treat themselves? The people and animals around them? What part do they wish to play in protecting our planet? What influences their vision?
I would serve a true king with all my heart and all my art.
I think we love stories where experience and humility (Ged) meet with innocence and vision (Arren).
I think the great stories remind us that our lives are precious and we should pay attention to whom we choose to lead them.
I think we love stories of human redemption because we want, always, to start anew, to be redeemed. We want to think of our own potential as a quality that is always just within our grasp, the sword in the stone that might move by our hand alone. What greatness may lie in the purity of our purpose?
I think we love stories of leaders who rise from humble beginnings because, frankly, the only good ones we've ever had have always begun that way. Our true leaders have never started out their lives with silver spoons. They're not meant to have criminal backgrounds or to be geriatric, either.
Where there is no direction, the deeds of men run shallow and wander and are wasted.
I think we will always have times that feel darker than others, when civilization seems to have run aground, when our future seems insecure.
No darkness lasts forever. And even there, there are stars. . .
I think it's important, always, to notice WHO is leading us and WHY. How do they treat themselves? The people and animals around them? What part do they wish to play in protecting our planet? What influences their vision?
I would serve a true king with all my heart and all my art.
I think we love stories where experience and humility (Ged) meet with innocence and vision (Arren).
I think the great stories remind us that our lives are precious and we should pay attention to whom we choose to lead them.
August 24, 2020
I'll say it again, young people should read Earthsea instead of, or as much as, Harry Potter. This one is about confronting the fear of death, greed, immortality, humility, respecting the land, and divesting from power.
May 5, 2023
دیدین یه وقتایی قبل اینکه میگرن تون اود/عود کنه یه حسی دارید و انگار نشونه های خفیفش رو از ساعتها قیل حس میکنید؟ بعد با خودتون میگید فلانی شل کن، نمیتونی هیچکاری کنی، بذار بیاد آوار بشه و بره خودش. بنظرم ریدینگ اسلامپ هم همین جوریه. از قبلش میدونی یزودی دیگه نمیتونی و نمیخوای کتاب بخونی و شروعش این شکلیه که از کتابای درحال خوندن لذت نمیبری.
گمونم این جلد از دریازمین هم به خاطر این نفرین ازم کمتر ستاره گرفت و از وسط به بعد دیگه حال نداد.
اما خب شما بخونیدش.
گمونم این جلد از دریازمین هم به خاطر این نفرین ازم کمتر ستاره گرفت و از وسط به بعد دیگه حال نداد.
اما خب شما بخونیدش.
March 28, 2022
“I cannot get this lute to play out of the minor … what would you hear?”
THE FARTHEST SHORE is an old school quest fantasy. Young Arren, the heir apparent to the Principality of Morred and Ged, the Archmage from Roke, the Isle of the Wise, where the art of magic is taught, set out to parts unknown to attempt to find the reasons why there was no longer true magic in the lands of Earthsea, why “the mages had forgotten their spells”, why “the springs of wizardry were running dry.”
As Ursula K LeGuin penned THE FARTHEST SHORE, political and economic conditions in the USA and in the world around her were becoming increasingly difficult and untenable. It is possible that her mind harkened back to the inaugural address of Franklin Delano Roosevelt as he outlined his plans to steer the USA out of the dust, the turmoil and the economic wreckage of the final years of the Great Depression,:
“So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is...fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. In every dark hour of our national life, a leadership of frankness and of vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential to victory. And I am convinced that you will again give that support to leadership in these critical days.”
I may be wrong in my assessment that LeGuin’s THE FARTHEST SHORE, in its simplest possible translation out of thick metaphorical allegory, is nothing more than a call to courage and to face the unknown with collective resolution. But, if I am wrong, it’s only because THE FARTHEST SHORE’s greatest weakness is that it is written in near impenetrable faux-mysticism and sounds like a verbose string of the worst kind of literary pretentiousness. It was less than 200 pages long but it took all of my perseverance to finish it. And I’ll admit I did so only as homage to the first two books in the trilogy A WIZARD OF EARTHSEA and THE TOMBS OF ATUAN. I’m simply not sure that I understood it at all.
Paul Weiss
THE FARTHEST SHORE is an old school quest fantasy. Young Arren, the heir apparent to the Principality of Morred and Ged, the Archmage from Roke, the Isle of the Wise, where the art of magic is taught, set out to parts unknown to attempt to find the reasons why there was no longer true magic in the lands of Earthsea, why “the mages had forgotten their spells”, why “the springs of wizardry were running dry.”
As Ursula K LeGuin penned THE FARTHEST SHORE, political and economic conditions in the USA and in the world around her were becoming increasingly difficult and untenable. It is possible that her mind harkened back to the inaugural address of Franklin Delano Roosevelt as he outlined his plans to steer the USA out of the dust, the turmoil and the economic wreckage of the final years of the Great Depression,:
“So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is...fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. In every dark hour of our national life, a leadership of frankness and of vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential to victory. And I am convinced that you will again give that support to leadership in these critical days.”
I may be wrong in my assessment that LeGuin’s THE FARTHEST SHORE, in its simplest possible translation out of thick metaphorical allegory, is nothing more than a call to courage and to face the unknown with collective resolution. But, if I am wrong, it’s only because THE FARTHEST SHORE’s greatest weakness is that it is written in near impenetrable faux-mysticism and sounds like a verbose string of the worst kind of literary pretentiousness. It was less than 200 pages long but it took all of my perseverance to finish it. And I’ll admit I did so only as homage to the first two books in the trilogy A WIZARD OF EARTHSEA and THE TOMBS OF ATUAN. I’m simply not sure that I understood it at all.
Paul Weiss
October 20, 2020
4.5
“Una escritora vive y trabaja en el mundo en el que nació, y no importa cuán firme sea su propio propósito, o cuan lejano parezcan sus temas y su trabajo están sujetos a los vientos cambiantes y las corrientes del mundo”
Ursula K Le Guin nos comenta en su introducción de esta tercera novela que lo escribió en lo que ella consideró “ un tiempo de grandes mareas y grandes vientos, de muchas esperanza y locura salvaje. Ella se encontraba en medio de los años sesenta, una etapa caracterizada por el movimiento para liberar América de la injusticia racista y el militarismo, donde había una verdadera visión de conseguir liberarse del materialismo compulsivo, de la confusión de entre “bienes” y “bien”. Sin embargo, como ella admite, gran parte de esa visión se disipaba en pensamientos ingenuos y en drogadicción.
Todo esto se ve reflejado en la novela y en las vivencias de sus personajes. Si bien la segunda parte nos adentraba en la oscuridad por así decirlo “mágica”, aquí nos encontramos con otro tipo de maldad, el mal que se encuentra intrínseco en cada uno de nosotros y toma forma de egoísmo. De esto hablaba ya Camus en su novela de La Peste apenas una década antes y la verdad es que me gustó mucho ver como autora lo consideraba también así.
-¿ Qué es el mal?- preguntó el hombre más joven.
La telaraña redonda, con su centro negro parecia observarlos.
-Una tela que tejemos nosotros, los hombres-respondió Ged.
Asimismo, quiero destacar que Ursula K Le Guin fue una escritora que no solo se centró en contarnos una historia de fantasía y acción. El género nos propone mundos diferentes, con criaturas extraordinarias que habitan normalmente en nuestras leyendas o surgen de la imaginación del autor. Se proponen un villano, un héroe y una tarea asignada para derrotar ese “mal”. Sin embargo, apenas se tiene en cuenta sobre las reflexiones: lo que puede llegar a pensar un personaje sobre su tarea, ni su manera de pensar o por qué está actuando así. Esto en cierta manera idealiza a los héroes, cuando en realidad no son sino simples hombres/ mujeres como tu o como yo que han viven otras circunstancias. Esto es algo que Ursula K Le Guin pretende mostrar.
“Procura elegir con cuidado, Arren, cuando te llegue la hora de las grandes opciones. Cuando yo era joven tuve que escoger entre la vida del ser y la vida de actuar. Y salté a la segunda como una trucha sobre una mosca. Pero cada uno de tus gestos, cada acto, te ata a él y a sus consecuencias, y te obliga a actuar otra vez, y otra vez. Y es muy raro, entonces, que encuentres un espacio, un momento de tiempo como éste, entre acto y acto, en el que puedes detenerte y simplemente ser. O preguntarte quién, a fin de cuentas, eres tú”.
Sinceramente, me da un poco de rabia que esta autora no hubiese tenido el reconocimiento que se le tiene ahora en pleno siglo XXI. Pienso que es una escritora muy buena y no me canso de leer sus historias, aunque sí es cierto que entre cada novela suya necesito un descanso. Sus libros a pesar de ser una maravilla y ser cortos, no dejan de ser bastante profundos y como mismamente dije antes te hacen reflexionar. Una vez que termine esta saga de seis libros, estoy segura que lo releeré y me deleitare de nuevo con su prosa, sus mundos y sus grandes personajes.
“La pequeña alma traicionera que hay en nosotros en la oscuridad como una araña en una caja. Nos habla a todos. Pero solo algunos la comprenden. Los magos, los trovadores, los hacedores. Y los héroes, los que buscan ser ellos mismos. Ser uno mismo es una cosa rara, y grande. Ser uno mismo para siempre,? ¿no es más grande todavía?
“Una escritora vive y trabaja en el mundo en el que nació, y no importa cuán firme sea su propio propósito, o cuan lejano parezcan sus temas y su trabajo están sujetos a los vientos cambiantes y las corrientes del mundo”
Ursula K Le Guin nos comenta en su introducción de esta tercera novela que lo escribió en lo que ella consideró “ un tiempo de grandes mareas y grandes vientos, de muchas esperanza y locura salvaje. Ella se encontraba en medio de los años sesenta, una etapa caracterizada por el movimiento para liberar América de la injusticia racista y el militarismo, donde había una verdadera visión de conseguir liberarse del materialismo compulsivo, de la confusión de entre “bienes” y “bien”. Sin embargo, como ella admite, gran parte de esa visión se disipaba en pensamientos ingenuos y en drogadicción.
Todo esto se ve reflejado en la novela y en las vivencias de sus personajes. Si bien la segunda parte nos adentraba en la oscuridad por así decirlo “mágica”, aquí nos encontramos con otro tipo de maldad, el mal que se encuentra intrínseco en cada uno de nosotros y toma forma de egoísmo. De esto hablaba ya Camus en su novela de La Peste apenas una década antes y la verdad es que me gustó mucho ver como autora lo consideraba también así.
-¿ Qué es el mal?- preguntó el hombre más joven.
La telaraña redonda, con su centro negro parecia observarlos.
-Una tela que tejemos nosotros, los hombres-respondió Ged.
Asimismo, quiero destacar que Ursula K Le Guin fue una escritora que no solo se centró en contarnos una historia de fantasía y acción. El género nos propone mundos diferentes, con criaturas extraordinarias que habitan normalmente en nuestras leyendas o surgen de la imaginación del autor. Se proponen un villano, un héroe y una tarea asignada para derrotar ese “mal”. Sin embargo, apenas se tiene en cuenta sobre las reflexiones: lo que puede llegar a pensar un personaje sobre su tarea, ni su manera de pensar o por qué está actuando así. Esto en cierta manera idealiza a los héroes, cuando en realidad no son sino simples hombres/ mujeres como tu o como yo que han viven otras circunstancias. Esto es algo que Ursula K Le Guin pretende mostrar.
“Procura elegir con cuidado, Arren, cuando te llegue la hora de las grandes opciones. Cuando yo era joven tuve que escoger entre la vida del ser y la vida de actuar. Y salté a la segunda como una trucha sobre una mosca. Pero cada uno de tus gestos, cada acto, te ata a él y a sus consecuencias, y te obliga a actuar otra vez, y otra vez. Y es muy raro, entonces, que encuentres un espacio, un momento de tiempo como éste, entre acto y acto, en el que puedes detenerte y simplemente ser. O preguntarte quién, a fin de cuentas, eres tú”.
Sinceramente, me da un poco de rabia que esta autora no hubiese tenido el reconocimiento que se le tiene ahora en pleno siglo XXI. Pienso que es una escritora muy buena y no me canso de leer sus historias, aunque sí es cierto que entre cada novela suya necesito un descanso. Sus libros a pesar de ser una maravilla y ser cortos, no dejan de ser bastante profundos y como mismamente dije antes te hacen reflexionar. Una vez que termine esta saga de seis libros, estoy segura que lo releeré y me deleitare de nuevo con su prosa, sus mundos y sus grandes personajes.
“La pequeña alma traicionera que hay en nosotros en la oscuridad como una araña en una caja. Nos habla a todos. Pero solo algunos la comprenden. Los magos, los trovadores, los hacedores. Y los héroes, los que buscan ser ellos mismos. Ser uno mismo es una cosa rara, y grande. Ser uno mismo para siempre,? ¿no es más grande todavía?
December 7, 2018
Earthsea is losing its magic.
That sentence could function both as a description of the book's plot, and as my evaluation of it. For while Le Guin's writing is as impeccable as always, this was not as good as the first two parts of the series, and of course, far from the intellectual literary quality of her science fiction.
It's never a bad thing to be reading about the journeys of Sparrowhawk and his companions, but Earthsea also seemed to me like a fun little side adventure for the author while she took a break to gather strength for a new masterpiece. In this book that became apparent.
That sentence could function both as a description of the book's plot, and as my evaluation of it. For while Le Guin's writing is as impeccable as always, this was not as good as the first two parts of the series, and of course, far from the intellectual literary quality of her science fiction.
It's never a bad thing to be reading about the journeys of Sparrowhawk and his companions, but Earthsea also seemed to me like a fun little side adventure for the author while she took a break to gather strength for a new masterpiece. In this book that became apparent.
November 24, 2019
I am shocked, shocked that this book was written in 1972.
I think I had to pinch myself multiple times, lest I think that this was published in the past 10 years. It certainly reads that way. You could say that about any of Le Guin's Earthsea books, honestly.
This is fantasy, but it doesn't read like most fantasy. It is very deconstructionist in nature, almost anti-fantasy, in a subtle way. Le Guin writes with fantasy characters, such as wizards, warriors, and dragons, but in an entirely different direction than most fantasy series take. There are no grand battles here, or complex political plots with scheming kings and queens. The Earthsea series follows the life of a wizard, Ged, so in that sense it is traditional fantasy, but it stops being traditional there. Le Guin's books focus on the balance of light and dark, and how both need each other. Life and death, beginning and end, shadow and sun. Le Guin does not care for good vs bad, faction vs faction, or even a subversion of good vs bad like some authors try (which usually just turns into traditional good vs evil all over again, with the "evil" antiheroes becoming the "good" characters from the readers perspective).
Why do I say I am shocked this book was written in 1972? It has questions about good vs evil and the inherent balance needed for both that most authors in the fantasy genre can still barely articulate, even some 50 years later.
It has an ethnically diverse cast of characters, including dark-skinned sea people who live on the ocean in giant floating villages. Instead of the traditional Eurocentric world that is the default setting for most well-known fantasy, Le Guin's Earthsea feels more like a smorgasbord of African, Polynesian, Asian, and some European influences.
Le Guin, who sadly passed recently, is still just as relevant and revolutionary today as she was 50 years ago. This book, and the rest of her library, proves it.
I think I had to pinch myself multiple times, lest I think that this was published in the past 10 years. It certainly reads that way. You could say that about any of Le Guin's Earthsea books, honestly.
This is fantasy, but it doesn't read like most fantasy. It is very deconstructionist in nature, almost anti-fantasy, in a subtle way. Le Guin writes with fantasy characters, such as wizards, warriors, and dragons, but in an entirely different direction than most fantasy series take. There are no grand battles here, or complex political plots with scheming kings and queens. The Earthsea series follows the life of a wizard, Ged, so in that sense it is traditional fantasy, but it stops being traditional there. Le Guin's books focus on the balance of light and dark, and how both need each other. Life and death, beginning and end, shadow and sun. Le Guin does not care for good vs bad, faction vs faction, or even a subversion of good vs bad like some authors try (which usually just turns into traditional good vs evil all over again, with the "evil" antiheroes becoming the "good" characters from the readers perspective).
Why do I say I am shocked this book was written in 1972? It has questions about good vs evil and the inherent balance needed for both that most authors in the fantasy genre can still barely articulate, even some 50 years later.
It has an ethnically diverse cast of characters, including dark-skinned sea people who live on the ocean in giant floating villages. Instead of the traditional Eurocentric world that is the default setting for most well-known fantasy, Le Guin's Earthsea feels more like a smorgasbord of African, Polynesian, Asian, and some European influences.
Le Guin, who sadly passed recently, is still just as relevant and revolutionary today as she was 50 years ago. This book, and the rest of her library, proves it.
September 15, 2017
Serinin en beğendiğim halkası oldu. Zannedersem bunda en önemli etken, kitabın temasının 'ölüm' olması oldu. Zira benim de hayatım boyunca üzerinde kafa yorduğum, hala Arren gibi kabullenmekte zorlandığım bir olgu olması beni hikayeye mıhladı. Ged'i tüm toyluğundan sıyrılmış, fikirleriyle ergin olarak görmek; satır aralarına yerleştirilmiş Bergmanvari bilgece sözlerle aklımı meşgul etmek ve kemik seriye yakışır güzel bir sonla hikayenin ilk durağında dinlenmek beni ziyadesiyle memnun etti. Devamını okumak için de güzel bir motivasyon oldu.
Kadim dilde, ejderhalara duyduğum tüm sempatiyle selamlıyorum sizi:)
8/10
Kadim dilde, ejderhalara duyduğum tüm sempatiyle selamlıyorum sizi:)
8/10
December 14, 2018
I sadly have very little to say about this one. In many ways I think it is the worst of the original three Earthsea books, never reaching the clever subversive nature of the first book, nor the phenomenal world building and charm of the second. It has some minor elements of them, but it mostly just feels like the most standard generic “hero story” of the three. With that said, I think I may prefer it over the first one slightly, as I feel it tells a more entertaining tale, but I can easily see where many would disagree.
The real highlight of this one for me is seeing how Le Guin aged Ged. She did an excellent job of making Ged grow up. He was (in my opinion) an insufferable know it all for a good portion of the first book, a wise man who understood his limitations (but always hopeful to work on them) in the second, and here an old man looking back not always fondly at some of his deeds, yet still able to see the good in the past. I found his growth a delight and liked seeing how his previous adventures (some we never even see) affected him.
Unfortunately, his companion in this book is not very interesting. This time Ged is joined by a young nobleman, whose personality seems to be a combination of hero worship followed by bouts of doubt. That pretty much sums up every insight we get into him and he’s about as uninteresting as that sounds.
While I had hoped for more, I find that I do not regret reading this series. The first and third did not reach the heights for me that many hold them too, but the second book far exceeded my expectations. I find that one line here sums up my entire feelings on the book:
“I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning.”
Will I read the fourth book? Maybe at some point. For now I’m happy to leave this world for some time. Though I cannot put myself as one of the many fans who consider it one of the all time fantasy greats, there are aspects of the series that I will treasure. A solid 3/5 stars.
The real highlight of this one for me is seeing how Le Guin aged Ged. She did an excellent job of making Ged grow up. He was (in my opinion) an insufferable know it all for a good portion of the first book, a wise man who understood his limitations (but always hopeful to work on them) in the second, and here an old man looking back not always fondly at some of his deeds, yet still able to see the good in the past. I found his growth a delight and liked seeing how his previous adventures (some we never even see) affected him.
Unfortunately, his companion in this book is not very interesting. This time Ged is joined by a young nobleman, whose personality seems to be a combination of hero worship followed by bouts of doubt. That pretty much sums up every insight we get into him and he’s about as uninteresting as that sounds.
While I had hoped for more, I find that I do not regret reading this series. The first and third did not reach the heights for me that many hold them too, but the second book far exceeded my expectations. I find that one line here sums up my entire feelings on the book:
“I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning.”
Will I read the fourth book? Maybe at some point. For now I’m happy to leave this world for some time. Though I cannot put myself as one of the many fans who consider it one of the all time fantasy greats, there are aspects of the series that I will treasure. A solid 3/5 stars.
February 10, 2020
Oh this took a long time to finish! Not because it wasn’t interesting, but laryngitis and lots of travel are not conducive to reading aloud.
That said, it is a lot slower and (seemingly) aimless than the previous 2 in the series. I love the relationship between Arren and Sparrowhawk, how it evolves and goes through ups and downs, but is ultimately based on mutual admiration and love.
I’m not sure what my son thinks about it in the end.
Edit: my son said, it was really good, 4 stars!
My 3rd Reading of this book.
That said, it is a lot slower and (seemingly) aimless than the previous 2 in the series. I love the relationship between Arren and Sparrowhawk, how it evolves and goes through ups and downs, but is ultimately based on mutual admiration and love.
I’m not sure what my son thinks about it in the end.
Edit: my son said, it was really good, 4 stars!
My 3rd Reading of this book.
April 17, 2022
En esta tercera entrega de la saga se repite el tono y el ritmo del primer libro y volvemos a acompañar a Gavilán en sus viajes por Terramar en busca del mal para derrotarlo.
Pero en esta ocasión Le Guin está en su mejor momento y demuestra la Maestra que es. No hay ni un viaje de Gavilán que sobre, ni una conversación que falte y ni una línea de más. Es un libro redondo, de principio a fin, donde cada frase es una lección de vida, donde se nos habla del egoísmo, de la inmortalidad, de la elección que tenemos entre hacer lo correcto pero complicado o lo fácil pero que nos lleva al mal.
Es un libro que me gustaría que mis hijas lo leyeran en cuanto tengan edad porque les enseñará más de la vida que muchas otras cosas que puedan encontrar. Porque aunque sea una Fantasía a la vieja usanza: la lucha entre el bien y el mal, el camino del héroe y hasta el dragón de turno; es una historia que va más allá de lo que narra y su importancia reside en el mensaje que quiere transmitir.
Es un muy buen cierre de trilogía pero ahora tengo ganas de saber por qué la autora tuvo la necesidad de seguir escribiendo sobre Terramar tantos años después.
Pero en esta ocasión Le Guin está en su mejor momento y demuestra la Maestra que es. No hay ni un viaje de Gavilán que sobre, ni una conversación que falte y ni una línea de más. Es un libro redondo, de principio a fin, donde cada frase es una lección de vida, donde se nos habla del egoísmo, de la inmortalidad, de la elección que tenemos entre hacer lo correcto pero complicado o lo fácil pero que nos lleva al mal.
Es un libro que me gustaría que mis hijas lo leyeran en cuanto tengan edad porque les enseñará más de la vida que muchas otras cosas que puedan encontrar. Porque aunque sea una Fantasía a la vieja usanza: la lucha entre el bien y el mal, el camino del héroe y hasta el dragón de turno; es una historia que va más allá de lo que narra y su importancia reside en el mensaje que quiere transmitir.
Es un muy buen cierre de trilogía pero ahora tengo ganas de saber por qué la autora tuvo la necesidad de seguir escribiendo sobre Terramar tantos años después.
October 9, 2021
Extraordinary retelling of a classic fantasy trope - a quest of a young hero, who overcomes obstacles to became a king. As in previous books of this series, the main enemy is the fear (the fear of death in this case) not some villain. So, in order to win the young prince needs to mature, become wiser and grow emotionally. As usual the author is more interested in characters development (phycological states and philosophy of living) than in dynamic plot.
June 13, 2023
(You can watch the video analysis of the book here: https://youtu.be/pclsfdelZXQ )
For a book that deals with such abstract concepts, The Farthest Shore outlines its ideas a lot more comprehensively than others in the series. While A Wizard of Earthsea arrived at its meaning through a moment of pure epiphany, and The Tombs of Atuan illustrated its own through the personal angst of Tenar, this episode of the saga repeatedly summarises its message in both passages and speeches that feature throughout the story. All the same, even though Le Guin leaves little subtext to discover she’s always able to offer thoughtful observations regardless of how directly she delivers them; it’s an impressive feat given just how much adventure she manages to cram in.
The waters of Le Guin’s fantasy world are so big that this culture of raft people has only ever been considered a myth and when Sparrowhawk and Arren get to know them, they begin to appreciate just how far removed from civilisation they really are. The people in this floating village don’t care about any of the problems at land. Their concerns mostly regard the marriages, pregnancies and general trivialities that make up their day. It isn’t that the purity they represent comes from the fact that they’re unfamiliar with sorrow. On the contrary, if a storm hits they’re all too aware that countless among them will be lost. But the way in which they accept the reality of death is so peaceful that they can barely envision fighting against a threat like the one Sparrowhawk and Arren come to know.
It’s this contrast of life and death that’s at the heart of The Farthest Shore. The islands and the sea have always worked as a metaphor for it, and the raft communities place within the idea demonstrates just how much about a culture of people can be understood by examining their relationship with their own mortality. After all, they float atop an abyss that could kill them if the weather turned, yet they continue to exist as they do, content that no matter what happens things will unfold as they should. Of course, this mindset has been present in the series since the very beginning. It’s heavily influenced by Le Guin’s abiding interest in Taoism, a philosophy that emphasizes humility as a means of achieving harmony with the unpredictable rhythms of the universe, and you can see hints of it again in the growth of Sparrowhawk’s young companion.
Though there are sequels beyond the original Earthsea trilogy, it would be another seventeen years before Ursula K. Le Guin set about writing them. In the time that followed The Farthest Shore’s publication, she was beginning to reconsider her views on feminism and how they were at odds with the choices she made in her fiction, so despite the fact that the saga would continue, it’s worthwhile looking at what made the book work as a conclusion. Coming of age stories are some of the oldest types of fiction. Whether they’re told in the form of an ancient myth or a modern superhero film, they often serve as a generations benchmark for what ideals a person should strive for. Still, rather than merely use the standard events of these stories as a means to give her wizard something to do, Le Guin once again created a layered fable that connected theme, plot and character to become more than just a superficial empowerment narrative. The lessons in The Farthest Shore’s pages bring out elements that were always present in the series, but never at the forefront, such that a reading of the book can help you to discover elements in the previous entries that might not have seemed so critical before.
(Don't forget to check out the full video analysis: https://youtu.be/pclsfdelZXQ )
For a book that deals with such abstract concepts, The Farthest Shore outlines its ideas a lot more comprehensively than others in the series. While A Wizard of Earthsea arrived at its meaning through a moment of pure epiphany, and The Tombs of Atuan illustrated its own through the personal angst of Tenar, this episode of the saga repeatedly summarises its message in both passages and speeches that feature throughout the story. All the same, even though Le Guin leaves little subtext to discover she’s always able to offer thoughtful observations regardless of how directly she delivers them; it’s an impressive feat given just how much adventure she manages to cram in.
The waters of Le Guin’s fantasy world are so big that this culture of raft people has only ever been considered a myth and when Sparrowhawk and Arren get to know them, they begin to appreciate just how far removed from civilisation they really are. The people in this floating village don’t care about any of the problems at land. Their concerns mostly regard the marriages, pregnancies and general trivialities that make up their day. It isn’t that the purity they represent comes from the fact that they’re unfamiliar with sorrow. On the contrary, if a storm hits they’re all too aware that countless among them will be lost. But the way in which they accept the reality of death is so peaceful that they can barely envision fighting against a threat like the one Sparrowhawk and Arren come to know.
It’s this contrast of life and death that’s at the heart of The Farthest Shore. The islands and the sea have always worked as a metaphor for it, and the raft communities place within the idea demonstrates just how much about a culture of people can be understood by examining their relationship with their own mortality. After all, they float atop an abyss that could kill them if the weather turned, yet they continue to exist as they do, content that no matter what happens things will unfold as they should. Of course, this mindset has been present in the series since the very beginning. It’s heavily influenced by Le Guin’s abiding interest in Taoism, a philosophy that emphasizes humility as a means of achieving harmony with the unpredictable rhythms of the universe, and you can see hints of it again in the growth of Sparrowhawk’s young companion.
Though there are sequels beyond the original Earthsea trilogy, it would be another seventeen years before Ursula K. Le Guin set about writing them. In the time that followed The Farthest Shore’s publication, she was beginning to reconsider her views on feminism and how they were at odds with the choices she made in her fiction, so despite the fact that the saga would continue, it’s worthwhile looking at what made the book work as a conclusion. Coming of age stories are some of the oldest types of fiction. Whether they’re told in the form of an ancient myth or a modern superhero film, they often serve as a generations benchmark for what ideals a person should strive for. Still, rather than merely use the standard events of these stories as a means to give her wizard something to do, Le Guin once again created a layered fable that connected theme, plot and character to become more than just a superficial empowerment narrative. The lessons in The Farthest Shore’s pages bring out elements that were always present in the series, but never at the forefront, such that a reading of the book can help you to discover elements in the previous entries that might not have seemed so critical before.
(Don't forget to check out the full video analysis: https://youtu.be/pclsfdelZXQ )
February 6, 2018
I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning.
February 24, 2022
Wraps up the Earthsea trilogy with all the beauty, intrigue, and power of the previous two. Here, Sparrow Hawk is now master-mage, old, but at the top of his powers. Something is going wrong in the world: singers have forgotten the songs, sorcerers forget their spells, people everywhere have lost hope and interest, letting things fall apart. It turns out there's a rumor loose in the land that a great mage has found the way back from death. To follow him is to escape death and have eternal life. People everywhere are dropping their now-irrelevant activities to chase the illusive path to immortality.
I'm sure it's accidental on Le Guin's part, but this sounds exactly like Christianity. Some special man promises eternal life if only you follow him and certain rules. Lenin called it an opiate (to drug the masses into submission) and that's the way it plays out in Earthsea. But like Christianity, what reward truly awaits? An end to pain, but also an end to pleasure. And end to physical decay, but also an end to growth. And end to drudgery but replaced by eternal boredom. Sparrow Hawk values life, and asserts there is no life without death, no joy without sorrow. At the farthest shore, he confronts the messiah to restore the world.
I'm sure it's accidental on Le Guin's part, but this sounds exactly like Christianity. Some special man promises eternal life if only you follow him and certain rules. Lenin called it an opiate (to drug the masses into submission) and that's the way it plays out in Earthsea. But like Christianity, what reward truly awaits? An end to pain, but also an end to pleasure. And end to physical decay, but also an end to growth. And end to drudgery but replaced by eternal boredom. Sparrow Hawk values life, and asserts there is no life without death, no joy without sorrow. At the farthest shore, he confronts the messiah to restore the world.
June 3, 2015
As usual with Le Guin's books, the flow of the plot is not the strong point. It's more about the sum of experiences and discussions that the characters have, if that makes any sense. So although this one has a more hackneyed plot than any other book of hers I've read, there are (as usual) quite a few really nice moments and deep insights. She spins out some more thoughts about balance and equilibrium, continuing the conversation from A Wizard of Earthsea. Here, Earthsea is being overrun by greyness and utter lack of joy or courage or conviction. Sparrowhawk goes out to find the problem, but he's getting old, so naturally the philosophical bits tend to deal with balancing life and death, finding a successor to carry on the fight, knowing the value of your own life, etc.
In particular, I liked some things she said about life and death and rebirth, seeming to imply that the reason we value and enjoy life is that we know our time will run out and we will die. If we were immortal, would we really say, "Ah, now I can finally have time to do all those things I should do and the things I've wanted to do"? I worry that I would instead say, "Ah, now I don't have to feel guilty about sitting on the couch reading trashy fantasy novels all day because I know that I'll have all the time in the world to do everything I want to do... later." And then perhaps I'd sink into greyness and never do anything interesting again. Knowledge of our mortality (and, for that matter, deadlines in general) is what keeps us moving, acting, living.
Of course, that's not the whole story. I know that my parents left Communist-era Poland because greyness can also arise from a system with no outlets for individual passion and ambition (beyond pandering to the rulers). If you'll get rewarded the same no matter how hard you work, there's no reason to work hard. This'll kill any desire to take pride in your work, without which nothing good can really be done. Le Guin points this out as well: "For discipline is the channel in which our acts run strong and deep; where there is no direction, the deeds of men run shallow and wander and are wasted."
Sure, I'm reading into it things that perhaps she didn't explicitly mean. But in that case, the fact that it got me thinking makes it a pretty good book, doesn't it?
Next up: Tehanu
In particular, I liked some things she said about life and death and rebirth, seeming to imply that the reason we value and enjoy life is that we know our time will run out and we will die. If we were immortal, would we really say, "Ah, now I can finally have time to do all those things I should do and the things I've wanted to do"? I worry that I would instead say, "Ah, now I don't have to feel guilty about sitting on the couch reading trashy fantasy novels all day because I know that I'll have all the time in the world to do everything I want to do... later." And then perhaps I'd sink into greyness and never do anything interesting again. Knowledge of our mortality (and, for that matter, deadlines in general) is what keeps us moving, acting, living.
Of course, that's not the whole story. I know that my parents left Communist-era Poland because greyness can also arise from a system with no outlets for individual passion and ambition (beyond pandering to the rulers). If you'll get rewarded the same no matter how hard you work, there's no reason to work hard. This'll kill any desire to take pride in your work, without which nothing good can really be done. Le Guin points this out as well: "For discipline is the channel in which our acts run strong and deep; where there is no direction, the deeds of men run shallow and wander and are wasted."
Sure, I'm reading into it things that perhaps she didn't explicitly mean. But in that case, the fact that it got me thinking makes it a pretty good book, doesn't it?
Next up: Tehanu
July 4, 2012
I started reading this to Miloš & Brontë at the beginning of March, and somewhere around May they lost interest.
I don't think I can blame Ursula K. LeGuin, at least not entirely. I was a big part of the problem. I struggled with this installment of The Earthsea Cycle, and that must have translated into the way I read this aloud, making it and me tough to listen to (never have the kids fallen asleep so often while I was reading. I usually have to tear myself away).
My problem is tough to pinch. I wasn't a fan of Arren/Lebannen. He wasn't the usually insufferable "apprentice" that drives me up the wall. He was a Prince giving his loyalty to Ged because of his love for the Archmage (a love with definite homosexual overtones, which would usually be a big bonus for me). He was capable. He was steadfast. He was flawed. All things I appreciated. But I just couldn't and didn't like him. I found myself wanting him to go away. I've been struggling to answer why, but I think writing all this out has given me the answer. I didn't like him because he was a partner for Ged. I wanted Ged to be alone. I wanted solitary Ged. I wanted Ged searching Earthsea as Sparrowhawk on Lookfar without any interference or companionship. Sharing his journey with another from the outset took something away from Ged, and it muddied my relationship with The Farthest Shore.
I recognize that Arren's presence added many things, things that LeGuin wanted to add and needed to add, some wonderful things and some not so wonderful, but I wasn't expecting those things, and I failed LeGuin by being unable to embrace them.
Yet I was unable to embrace them. Even once Miloš & Brontë asked if we could stop reading, even after I stopped reading aloud and went on by myself (in Ged-like fashion), even after finding myself captivated by the final search for Cob, the death of Orm Embar and Ged's sacrifice, even after recognizing the importance of Arren/Lebannen, I couldn't cross the emotional distance to embrace this book.
I must read it again when I am in the proper place. Perhaps then I will be able to appreciate it fully. Sorry for failing you and your words, Ursula K. LeGuin. Your work deserves better.
I don't think I can blame Ursula K. LeGuin, at least not entirely. I was a big part of the problem. I struggled with this installment of The Earthsea Cycle, and that must have translated into the way I read this aloud, making it and me tough to listen to (never have the kids fallen asleep so often while I was reading. I usually have to tear myself away).
My problem is tough to pinch. I wasn't a fan of Arren/Lebannen. He wasn't the usually insufferable "apprentice" that drives me up the wall. He was a Prince giving his loyalty to Ged because of his love for the Archmage (a love with definite homosexual overtones, which would usually be a big bonus for me). He was capable. He was steadfast. He was flawed. All things I appreciated. But I just couldn't and didn't like him. I found myself wanting him to go away. I've been struggling to answer why, but I think writing all this out has given me the answer. I didn't like him because he was a partner for Ged. I wanted Ged to be alone. I wanted solitary Ged. I wanted Ged searching Earthsea as Sparrowhawk on Lookfar without any interference or companionship. Sharing his journey with another from the outset took something away from Ged, and it muddied my relationship with The Farthest Shore.
I recognize that Arren's presence added many things, things that LeGuin wanted to add and needed to add, some wonderful things and some not so wonderful, but I wasn't expecting those things, and I failed LeGuin by being unable to embrace them.
Yet I was unable to embrace them. Even once Miloš & Brontë asked if we could stop reading, even after I stopped reading aloud and went on by myself (in Ged-like fashion), even after finding myself captivated by the final search for Cob, the death of Orm Embar and Ged's sacrifice, even after recognizing the importance of Arren/Lebannen, I couldn't cross the emotional distance to embrace this book.
I must read it again when I am in the proper place. Perhaps then I will be able to appreciate it fully. Sorry for failing you and your words, Ursula K. LeGuin. Your work deserves better.
December 6, 2025
„Виждаш ли, Арен, едно действие не е, както смятат младите, камък, който вдигаш и хвърляш, а той улучва или пропуска целта, и това е всичко. Когато вдигнеш камъка, земята олеква, но ръката натежава. Щом го хвърлиш, орбитите на звездите се огъват и там, където удари или падне, Вселената се променя...“
„Най-далечният бряг“ се оказа чудесно книжно преживяване! Този многопластов роман определено надхвърли очакванията ми, мисля че е може би най-великата творба на Урсула Ле Гуин. Писателката отново е споделила много мъдри послания в очарователния приказен свят на Землемория... В книгата образът на Ястреба вече е изключително майсторски развит и за мен се нарежда сред незабравимите фентъзи герои. Сюжетът проследява изпълнението с опасности пътешествие на върховния жрец Гед и принц Арен към далечни земи в търсене на тайнствена заплаха за магията...
„В природата няма нищо неестествено. В сегашния случай се извършва не възстановяване на Хармонията, а нарушаването й. Има само едно създание, което може да стори това.
— Някой човек ли? — попита Арен колебливо.
— Ние, хората.
— По какъв начин?
— С желанието си за живот на всяка цена.
— За живот? Но нима е грешно да желаеш да живееш?
— Не. Ала когато се домогваме до власт над живота — да имаме безкрайно богатство, безметежна сигурност, безсмъртие, — тогава желанието се превръща в алчност. И ако към тая алчност се добави и познание, тогава пък се явява злото.“
„Арен видя как той вдигна очи към жълтата звезда, сега високо над вълните, която очертаваше по повърхността им накъсана, фина като паяжина златна нишка.
След известно време Върховният жрец продължи:
— Не само насън, Арен, съзираме онова, което предстои, залегнало в отдавна забравеното, и говорим неща, които ни се струват безсмислени, защото не разбираме тяхното значение.“
„Трудно е за един дракон да говори разбрано. Те нямат ясно съзнание. Дори когато някой от тях е готов да ни довери истината, което се случва рядко, той не знае как изглежда тази истина на човека.“
„Най-далечният бряг“ се оказа чудесно книжно преживяване! Този многопластов роман определено надхвърли очакванията ми, мисля че е може би най-великата творба на Урсула Ле Гуин. Писателката отново е споделила много мъдри послания в очарователния приказен свят на Землемория... В книгата образът на Ястреба вече е изключително майсторски развит и за мен се нарежда сред незабравимите фентъзи герои. Сюжетът проследява изпълнението с опасности пътешествие на върховния жрец Гед и принц Арен към далечни земи в търсене на тайнствена заплаха за магията...
„В природата няма нищо неестествено. В сегашния случай се извършва не възстановяване на Хармонията, а нарушаването й. Има само едно създание, което може да стори това.
— Някой човек ли? — попита Арен колебливо.
— Ние, хората.
— По какъв начин?
— С желанието си за живот на всяка цена.
— За живот? Но нима е грешно да желаеш да живееш?
— Не. Ала когато се домогваме до власт над живота — да имаме безкрайно богатство, безметежна сигурност, безсмъртие, — тогава желанието се превръща в алчност. И ако към тая алчност се добави и познание, тогава пък се явява злото.“
„Арен видя как той вдигна очи към жълтата звезда, сега високо над вълните, която очертаваше по повърхността им накъсана, фина като паяжина златна нишка.
След известно време Върховният жрец продължи:
— Не само насън, Арен, съзираме онова, което предстои, залегнало в отдавна забравеното, и говорим неща, които ни се струват безсмислени, защото не разбираме тяхното значение.“
„Трудно е за един дракон да говори разбрано. Те нямат ясно съзнание. Дори когато някой от тях е готов да ни довери истината, което се случва рядко, той не знае как изглежда тази истина на човека.“
August 4, 2024
A 2-star reading experience for me, though perhaps more of a 3-star book, since I don’t think it is bad so much as that it failed to resonate with me at all. In fairness, I didn’t really expect it to, not having liked any of the early Earthsea books that much (Tombs of Atuan is the clear favorite but I also have some problems with it). This one I picked up in part to get to Tehanu and in part out of a general interest in reading more Le Guin. But I did try; I even attempted to increase resonance by reading it while personally traveling around an archipelago! Sadly, while having only this book on hand while waiting for delayed ferries ensured that I finished it, the similarity of setting did not make up for the fact that almost nothing in the book appeals to me. I don’t like quest stories, or all-male casts, and as an adult I rarely vibe with books aimed at younger readers. Also, I am indifferent to dragons and dislike True Kings.
And this book, well, it’s a coming-of-age story of a True King, going on a quest with an older wizard to stop an evildoer (with cameo appearances by dragons). In an objective sense, I think it’s a fine version of that—though disappointing and rather dull to me, obviously it has resonated with large numbers of people. It’s well-written, if in a mythic style rather than a high-tension one. It’s a decent coming-of-age story, also in an older style; contrasted with current work, this book is notable for its uncritical celebration of heroism. The teen protagonist, Arren, meets the Archmage, Ged, immediately hero-worships him, and while Arren’s understanding of Ged naturally becomes more complex over the course of the story, he’s never knocked off the pedestal. Likewise there’s a lot of laudatory hearkening back to past heroes.
There’s also a lot of discussion of philosophy in it, which clearly has done something for many readers. Personally, I have doubts. Ged holds forth on two main issues, the first of which is the importance of natural balance and not acting unless one must, particularly if one holds power. Certainly there is some wisdom to this—people should respect nature, and those with power should be very careful about its use—but Ged’s idea of “must” defaults to “only to maintain the status quo,” as I suspect this philosophy necessarily must; thus, for instance, he takes no action to oppose slavery because he doesn’t want to take on moral responsibility for slavers’ fates. Meanwhile, the evil in the world is all about people’s yearning for immortality, and how immortality is essentially wrong even if seeking to live is natural and healthy. To me this did not feel especially relevant, since immortality isn’t an option for us real humans anyway; in the afterward Le Guin indicates she also intended this as a critique of rampant consumerism, which I have to say I did not get from the text at all.
While we’re talking philosophy, back to the True King thing. As mentioned, I dislike this trope, especially when, as here, the reasons the character is supposed to be ideal for kingship boil down to a) lineage and b) traits that are admirable in a regular person but have little to do with aptitude for governance, like physical courage and endurance. Le Guin has convinced me that Arren would make an A+ firefighter or battlefield medic; if you ever need rescuing after a natural disaster, Arren is your man. But I remain without information to pass any judgment on his merits as head of state.
And there’s the added weirdness of romanticizing the creation of a centralized government for the archipelago at all, when it has none during the story. Why does Le Guin, or anyone, think this is better than the current, localized rule? The islands don’t seem to have a weakness for warring with each other; they’re already held together as a cultural zone by ties of trade, immigration, culture and language, all of which seems to function fine without political unification. The only time anyone in the book talks about wanting a king, it’s when evil is seeping over the land—and of course people do tend to long for strong authority in times of trouble, but having a king wouldn’t have prevented what happened. It might conceivably have hastened the response—one of the things central government is good for is bringing to bear resources from unaffected areas in response to disaster—or it might not: central government is also known for overlooking the periphery. Anyway, the book doesn’t actually delve into this change in political system at all, which is baffling to me from the author of The Dispossessed.
In the end I suppose it’s an illustration of the 20th century maxim that science fiction lends itself to progressivism while fantasy is inherently conservative. The latter I think is no longer true, but 20th century fantasies were notorious for championing monarchism, maintaining the status quo, and returning to past glories, even when the authors’ personal politics were progressive. And apparently thinkers like Le Guin fell prey to it just as much as anyone else. Maybe that’s why I prefer her sci fi. Also, even her older sci fi sometimes has women in it.
At any rate, that’s one off the list. I hope Tehanu will be worth it, and possibly should have just skipped to that one directly.
And this book, well, it’s a coming-of-age story of a True King, going on a quest with an older wizard to stop an evildoer (with cameo appearances by dragons). In an objective sense, I think it’s a fine version of that—though disappointing and rather dull to me, obviously it has resonated with large numbers of people. It’s well-written, if in a mythic style rather than a high-tension one. It’s a decent coming-of-age story, also in an older style; contrasted with current work, this book is notable for its uncritical celebration of heroism. The teen protagonist, Arren, meets the Archmage, Ged, immediately hero-worships him, and while Arren’s understanding of Ged naturally becomes more complex over the course of the story, he’s never knocked off the pedestal. Likewise there’s a lot of laudatory hearkening back to past heroes.
There’s also a lot of discussion of philosophy in it, which clearly has done something for many readers. Personally, I have doubts. Ged holds forth on two main issues, the first of which is the importance of natural balance and not acting unless one must, particularly if one holds power. Certainly there is some wisdom to this—people should respect nature, and those with power should be very careful about its use—but Ged’s idea of “must” defaults to “only to maintain the status quo,” as I suspect this philosophy necessarily must; thus, for instance, he takes no action to oppose slavery because he doesn’t want to take on moral responsibility for slavers’ fates. Meanwhile, the evil in the world is all about people’s yearning for immortality, and how immortality is essentially wrong even if seeking to live is natural and healthy. To me this did not feel especially relevant, since immortality isn’t an option for us real humans anyway; in the afterward Le Guin indicates she also intended this as a critique of rampant consumerism, which I have to say I did not get from the text at all.
While we’re talking philosophy, back to the True King thing. As mentioned, I dislike this trope, especially when, as here, the reasons the character is supposed to be ideal for kingship boil down to a) lineage and b) traits that are admirable in a regular person but have little to do with aptitude for governance, like physical courage and endurance. Le Guin has convinced me that Arren would make an A+ firefighter or battlefield medic; if you ever need rescuing after a natural disaster, Arren is your man. But I remain without information to pass any judgment on his merits as head of state.
And there’s the added weirdness of romanticizing the creation of a centralized government for the archipelago at all, when it has none during the story. Why does Le Guin, or anyone, think this is better than the current, localized rule? The islands don’t seem to have a weakness for warring with each other; they’re already held together as a cultural zone by ties of trade, immigration, culture and language, all of which seems to function fine without political unification. The only time anyone in the book talks about wanting a king, it’s when evil is seeping over the land—and of course people do tend to long for strong authority in times of trouble, but having a king wouldn’t have prevented what happened. It might conceivably have hastened the response—one of the things central government is good for is bringing to bear resources from unaffected areas in response to disaster—or it might not: central government is also known for overlooking the periphery. Anyway, the book doesn’t actually delve into this change in political system at all, which is baffling to me from the author of The Dispossessed.
In the end I suppose it’s an illustration of the 20th century maxim that science fiction lends itself to progressivism while fantasy is inherently conservative. The latter I think is no longer true, but 20th century fantasies were notorious for championing monarchism, maintaining the status quo, and returning to past glories, even when the authors’ personal politics were progressive. And apparently thinkers like Le Guin fell prey to it just as much as anyone else. Maybe that’s why I prefer her sci fi. Also, even her older sci fi sometimes has women in it.
At any rate, that’s one off the list. I hope Tehanu will be worth it, and possibly should have just skipped to that one directly.
September 30, 2016
It requires a special talent to write a boring fantasy book.
(I couldn't finish this. It's the weakest volume of the series by far. The storyline is jagged and thin. Nothing happens. Overall, it was a tedious read with rare moments of interest, and I think I'm going to ditch it.)
(I couldn't finish this. It's the weakest volume of the series by far. The storyline is jagged and thin. Nothing happens. Overall, it was a tedious read with rare moments of interest, and I think I'm going to ditch it.)
December 20, 2022
Cada parte de estas historias me siguen sorprendiendo un montón y me generan mucha emoción a tal punto que me conmuevo con lo que sea, escribe precioso la Le Guin.
September 14, 2022
I didn't realize "Farthest Shore" was going to be so - I'd like to say 'literal with', but the title/approach is literally figurative - focused on actual exploration of the philosophy of dying, of life and death (and by extension, immortality).
It's too early to say anything about personal favorite books of the series, having read so little of it still, but there is certain maturity of thought in this book over the first one, which is a very favorable aspect.
Le Guin's prose and world building are of course as they only can be: epic strong and apparently effortless with their cogency.
______
Reading updates.
It's too early to say anything about personal favorite books of the series, having read so little of it still, but there is certain maturity of thought in this book over the first one, which is a very favorable aspect.
Le Guin's prose and world building are of course as they only can be: epic strong and apparently effortless with their cogency.
______
Reading updates.
July 11, 2018
Le Guin, Yerdeniz'in ilk kitabından ana karakterin büyümesini, ikincisinde yetişkinliği ve atıldığı bir macerayı ve ölümü konu aldığı üçüncü kitapta ise ölümle yüzleşmesini anlatıyor. Ölüm nedir? Peki, yaşam? Yazar her ikisinin de elin iki yüzü olduğunu söylüyor. İkisi de bir şey olmasına rağmen hiçbir zaman aynı şey değildir.
Kitapla ilgili incelemem: http://kitapokurum.blogspot.com/2018/...
Kitapla ilgili incelemem: http://kitapokurum.blogspot.com/2018/...
May 7, 2016
It's really hard for me to write a review for this book, because this book changed my perception regarding it dramatically from start to the end. Initially when I started it I really liked how the story was flowing in it, but then Le Guin starts introducing a lot of philosophy in the middle, at that time I thought what the hell is going on ?. What am I reading ? whether this is fantasy or a philosophical book ? but she manages to tie things up masterfully at the end that I devoured this book in just three days.
I really got many things from the story she was trying to tell, like how death is important to understand the price of life, or the kind of relationship a master has with his disciple, also how when you are young to take things head on without even considering the consequences it will finally lead to, but as you become older and wiser you start realizing the folly of it all and wants only peace at the end of it.
The story of this book is really simple and can be explained in a few lines, but the I think Le Guin is trying to tell us a lot in the subtext that is the important part of this book, that is what appealed to me a lot in this book and changed my perception.
The things which appealed to me in this book are
1.Ged
2.Relationship between Ged & Arren
Let me elaborate on the above points now
1.Ged
The Ged we met in the first book, and the one present to us in this book is a completely changed character, what we saw initially was a wizard who wanted to take the world head on, and thought the approach of his master Ogion to led back for a wizard.
Try to choose carefully, Arren, when the great choices must be made. When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be.Or wonder who, after all, you are.
But now when we met him in this story he is forty and realizes that his actions not only affect him but also the people around him, he is therefore reluctant to use magic for everything and cares about the equilibrium of magic in this world.
Although he has become a top mage of his guild, he yearns for the peace which Ogion offered at the start of the first book, and often contemplates what could his life have been, if he had followed in the foot steps of his master, gone is Ged which we first met nad I really loved how Le Guin has portrayed him in this book.
2.Relationship between Ged & Arren
The story starts when prince Arren of Enlad is sent by his father to the island of Roke to inform the guild of magicians regarding some disturbing news happening in his land. He has told his son Arren to do whatever is necessary to the find the solution for the crisis they are facing. He has given him only a sword of their inheritance, the sword is magical due to the fact that it can't be use for killing.
When Arren comes across Ged he sees a powerful wizard who can help him, and swears his oath to him, and so follows a journey which will really test the oath which Areen has sworn ed to Ged.
Do you see, Arren, how an act is not, as young men think, like a rock that one picks up and throws, and it hits or misses, and that’s the end of it. When that rock is lifted, the earth is lighter; the hand that bears it heavier. When it is thrown, the circuits of the stars respond, and where it strikes or falls the universe is changed.
The relationship between Ged and Arren was the best part of the book for me.
I give this book 4/5 stars, and I think this book by far surpasses the first two books in the series.
I really got many things from the story she was trying to tell, like how death is important to understand the price of life, or the kind of relationship a master has with his disciple, also how when you are young to take things head on without even considering the consequences it will finally lead to, but as you become older and wiser you start realizing the folly of it all and wants only peace at the end of it.
The story of this book is really simple and can be explained in a few lines, but the I think Le Guin is trying to tell us a lot in the subtext that is the important part of this book, that is what appealed to me a lot in this book and changed my perception.
The things which appealed to me in this book are
1.Ged
2.Relationship between Ged & Arren
Let me elaborate on the above points now
1.Ged
The Ged we met in the first book, and the one present to us in this book is a completely changed character, what we saw initially was a wizard who wanted to take the world head on, and thought the approach of his master Ogion to led back for a wizard.
Try to choose carefully, Arren, when the great choices must be made. When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be.Or wonder who, after all, you are.
But now when we met him in this story he is forty and realizes that his actions not only affect him but also the people around him, he is therefore reluctant to use magic for everything and cares about the equilibrium of magic in this world.
Although he has become a top mage of his guild, he yearns for the peace which Ogion offered at the start of the first book, and often contemplates what could his life have been, if he had followed in the foot steps of his master, gone is Ged which we first met nad I really loved how Le Guin has portrayed him in this book.
2.Relationship between Ged & Arren
The story starts when prince Arren of Enlad is sent by his father to the island of Roke to inform the guild of magicians regarding some disturbing news happening in his land. He has told his son Arren to do whatever is necessary to the find the solution for the crisis they are facing. He has given him only a sword of their inheritance, the sword is magical due to the fact that it can't be use for killing.
When Arren comes across Ged he sees a powerful wizard who can help him, and swears his oath to him, and so follows a journey which will really test the oath which Areen has sworn ed to Ged.
Do you see, Arren, how an act is not, as young men think, like a rock that one picks up and throws, and it hits or misses, and that’s the end of it. When that rock is lifted, the earth is lighter; the hand that bears it heavier. When it is thrown, the circuits of the stars respond, and where it strikes or falls the universe is changed.
The relationship between Ged and Arren was the best part of the book for me.
I give this book 4/5 stars, and I think this book by far surpasses the first two books in the series.
April 26, 2025
“Ser uno mismo es una cosa rara, y grande. Ser uno mismo para siempre, ¿no es más grande todavía?”
Volviendo por tercera vez al mundo de Terramar en esta aventura que nos lleva por tierras inhóspitas y sendas lúgubres.
Por el momento, es el libro que más he disfrutado de esta saga, destacando los maravillosos diálogos entre los dos protagonistas mientras van en busca del enemigo final para erradicar el mal que asola todo el mundo.
“Y sé que sólo hay un poder que valga la pena tener. Y ése es el poder, no de tomar, sino de aceptar. No de tener, sino de dar.”
Y es que he perdido la cuenta de las reflexiones que permite dar esta lectura, sobre el destino, la muerte y en general, la vida misma.
El desenlace me ha parecido uno de los más bonitos, emotivos y épicos que he leído en mi vida. Me parece una locura que en tan pocas páginas haya vivido un viaje tan intenso y emocional. Ursula se ha vuelto a ganar mi admiración una vez más.
Como broche final, dejo la que me ha parecido una de las citas más memorables del género de fantasía:
“No me importa lo que pueda ocurrir después; he visto los dragones en el viento de la mañana.”
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