This is the story of Sparrowhawk, Ged, a young adult who has the gift of wizardry, learning to control himself at the same time as he is learning to control his powers. Structurally, it's a hero's quest, but it treats the hero more like Gawain in Gawain and the Green Knight, in terms of getting down into the nitty gritty psychological frustrations of day to day life. This isn't Merlin. This is a boy learning to be a man.
She assumes the reader knows what is what in the world of Earthsea. Instead of expository worldbuilding, Le Guin focuses on the story and drops hints where needed to flush out the context. This tactic of sparse backstory contrasts directly with Tolkein’s tendency to describe the history of every lichen-covered rock. And to me, it contrasts favorably. The focus of the novel rests firmly on the characters and story rather than the world being built. Which, when I’m reading a story, is something I prefer. It reminds me of what I like about China Mieville, those few, important hints flushing out a world and still leaving the reader space to use their imagination. It’s a style of writing I’m thoroughly convinced is effective, and Le Guin helps prove it here.
I think the point of the novel rests in the combination, the wholeness Ged reaches by melding himself with the shadow. The light and the dark coming together into one character. Though there are many other points to the book, I think this aspect is the clearest and touches all the other points: Ged’s pride and desire for power releases the dark shadow, which then runs rampant. He initially hides from it until he realizes how much of a danger to others it is. Then he systematically hunts down the shadow, needing help from his friends and finding other dangers along the way. He finally realizes that the shadow is a part of himself, and he calls it by his own true name, at which point the two become one. As a young adult novel, it’s easy to see Le Guin trying to show ways in which competitiveness, self-worth, and service to others are both beneficial and destructive. Like hiding: initially, he has to hide from it because he has no power to match it, then his hiding becomes cowardice and he has to hunt it down. Hiding is a benefit initially, but turns into a destructive crutch. His service to others first blinds him from his need to confront his shadow, but then he confronts it out of a desire to protect others.
One thing I always find interesting about magic in novels is what it says about the author’s prioritization of aspects of reality. For Le Guin, magic is power over things that comes only from understanding an aspect of the thing. Knowing the true name of the thing gives one power over it, as well as some innate ability to project that power, which can be trained to work more effectively. Empathy is a large part of what she seems to premise that power on. When Ged is trying to be helpful, he almost always succeeds. When he tries to hurt others, he fails and hurts himself and unintended others more. It’s a powerful system of magic, and one that clearly reinforces the theme of the novel.
In all, I really enjoyed A Wizard of Earthsea and don’t know why I hadn’t picked it up before. The writing isn’t as good as Le Guin gets later, but it’s also not as bad as some of her earlier works. It seems by trying to write for a young adult audience she allowed some sparseness to influence her voice in a way that I appreciate. A good story, written well, which leaves the reader plenty to think about and plenty to fill in. What more could you ask for?
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