a rough start in comparison with other of le guin’s work, but it gets much stronger as it goes on and ends up in a much better place than it began. part of the issue is that many of these stories are played much straighter than the vast majority of le guin’s most popular work; turns out that I prefer her more explicitly speculative fiction to her more realistic fiction, as a rule (even though some of the most realistic stories here turned out to be among my favorites from within this collection in particular). still, le guin on a mediocre day can run laps around most authors at their best, and even though this isn’t my favorite from her œuvre, there are a number of lines of beauty or sudden, startling insight.
thoughts on individual stories in order, separated by section (not official, just ~vibes~), are below. as a group, the orsinia-set stories were my least favorite, and the oregon-set ones perhaps my favorite—again, not individually but collectively.
🐻 “brothers and sisters” (orsinia) — dull — she talked loudly, and laughed aloud. she struck back at whatever touched her. a voice, a wind, a word she didn’t understand, the evening star. she hadn’t learned indifference: she knew only defiance. || behind them, the karst stretched in the light of the half moon, away on and on, pocked, pitted, level, answering the moonlight with its own pallor taken at third hand from the sun. the moon, secondhand, worn at the edges, was hung up in the sky like something a housewife leaves out to remind her it needs mending.
🐻 “a week in the country” (orsinia) — a little better than brothers and sisters — um, taught me the word houris in sort of random usage
🐻 “unlocking the air” (orsinia) — fine — remember the tale of koschei the deathless, whose life was in a needle, and the needle was in an egg, and the egg was in a swan, and the swan was in an eagle, and the eagle was in a wolf, and the wolf was in the palace whose walls are built of the stones of power: enchantment within enchantment. we are a long way yet from the egg that holds the needle that must be broken so that koschei the deathless can die, and so the tale ends.
🐻 “imaginary countries” (orsinia) — not much of anything
🥀 “the diary of the rose” — the first really compelling story in the collection; not a work anyone would describe as being one of ‘staggering originality,’ perhaps, but COMPELLING. potentially triggering for some; lobotomy and the loss of an ‘intelligent’ mind to ‘madness’ (and please note that this latter is a belief whose ableism I will fully cop to, and I clung most firmly to it in high school and college but have done a lot of learning and unlearning since then) were legitimate and profound fears of mine for a long time, and while lobotomy itself isn’t the threat in this story, it’s not far off.
🌳 “the direction of the road” — note to self to use this for as an exercise in perspective for creative writing next school year!! — I will not act eternity for them. let them not turn to the trees for death. if that is what they want to see, let them look to one another’s eyes and see it there.
🦄 “the white donkey” — still just not sure what the point was
🎶 “gwilan’s harp” — a nice little story. in spite of the flaws of this collection you can really see le guin quite explicitly flexing the muscles with which to explore the role of Woman and what that means and what its bounds are — the two of them were gentle to each other. not that they lived together thirty years without some quarreling: two rocks sitting side by side would get sick of each other thirty years, and who knows what they say now and then when nobody is listening. but if people trust each other, they can grumble, and a good bit of grumbling takes the fuel from wrath. (do u think the EEAAO team has read this story lol) || and the good year, and the poor year, and there was food to eat and be cooked and clothes to wear and be washed, good year or poor year.
🐆 “may’s lion” — u fucking know I love old women!!! — and people who behave strangely are usually sick, or in some kind of pain. sometimes, though, they are spiritually moved to act strangely.
🏜️ “buffalo gals, won’t you come out tonight” — many people have noted this as the standout from the collection, and I can understand why. pretty sure I’ve read this one before at some point — “go on, little one, granddaughter,” spider said. “don’t be afraid. you can live well there. I’ll be there too, you know: in your dreams, in your ideas, in dark corners in the basement. don’t kill me, or I’ll make it rain.”
🐎 “horse camp” — MS. LE GUIN CAPTURING THE SPIRIT OF THE HORSE GIRL LIKE A BUTTERFLY ON A PINBOARD
🌊 “the water is wide” — lethe! styx! who needs a self, anyway! explores similar themes to “the diary of the rose,” but more experimental (or uneven, depending how you look at it) in pacing, and not my personal preference of the two, although I don’t think this one was bad
🎪 “the lost children” — my brain took in nothing ngl. malls are bad? or something? um. that’s on me sorry!!
🐚 “texts” (klatsand) — yeah ykw I too am haunted by words and echolalia lol — ‘sister, sister, sister, light the light’
🐚 “sleepwalkers” (klatsand) — another good one for the studying of craft
🐚 “hand, cup, shell” (klatsand) — more on Role of Woman — a younger son had poured whiskey onto diabetes and died at thirty-one. men did seem to be so fragile.
🌬️ “ether, or” (not klatsand but still oregon) — although not perhaps The primary focus of this story, one of my favorite things about the oregon stories in general, klatsand or otherwise, is le guin’s unflinching persistence in laying bare the white supremacist foundations of oregon as a state — it’s restless. it’s off somewhere over the mountains, making up in one dimension what it lacks in another. if it doesn’t keep moving, the malls will catch it. nobody’s surprised it’s gone. the white man’s his own burden, and nowhere to lay it down.
🌀 “half past four” (I think also oregon) — and ANOTHER good one (and again about womanhood to a certain extent) for the studying of craft! — ella was the last person in the western industrial hegemony who said ‘icebox’ or ‘canapé’ or crossed her legs at the ankles. || wearing purple sweatpants and a red sweatshirt with an expressionless yellow circle face on it labeled ‘HAVE A DAY’ || “always men?” / ella nodded. “they hadn’t invented women yet then,” she said. || “I remember your wedding.” / “oh, christ, yes, when you were flower girl.” || her voice was low and a little husky, with a break in it, like some children’s voices, what they used to call a whiskey voice, only childlike.