Another Earthsea novel, another coming of age tale with another new character. Ged is also there, stealing the limelight. However, in this novel, he is there from the beginning and it’s a much stronger start. In some ways this is my favorite of the original trilogy, and in some ways this is my least favorite of the original trilogy. In trying to determine why, I have come across two aspects of storytelling and two aspects of the writing that I want to talk about.
In terms of her writing, Le Guin has adopted strong, confident writing. And the biggest addition to her repertoire is her expanded descriptions. Where in the earlier Earthsea books things were described sparsely—except for the tombs themselves, but those were in darkness so there wasn’t much to describe—here the descriptions extend longer. And this extending allows the reader time to pause and ponder what Ged has taught the young prince Arran, time for the writer to fill in some gaps in the Earthsea world; but not through exposition: Le Guin still uses effective, sparse hints at the surrounding context. Yet this further description of the world is appreciated after the claustrophobia of the tombs.
The characters here are great: partly because of what came before, and partly because of what Le Guin does here. On the one hand, seeing the old Ged, wise and patient, advising against action unless action is needed, is Le Guin writing a strong father figure; yet after reading the other books, and realizing who Ged was and what he has become, this character is more powerful. The new characters are interesting—Arran follows his own path to adulthood, separate from that which Ged and Tenar took. He goes from a haughty, aristocratic young prince who thinks he knows how the world works, to a humble, strong young man who is able to prioritize others over himself. So, I appreciated what Le Guin did with the characters here—continuing to explore instead of rehash.
One aspect of her storytelling that allows such diversity of character is that this novel is a journey. Ged and Arran are constantly coming to new lands and meeting new characters. This structure is also reflected in her emphasis on description—more opportunity and more need to introduce more aspects of Earthsea. For a journey narrative, I could probably think of a better one, but it would be very hard for me to think of one. This is a really good journey narrative because Le Guin finds a happy medium between delving too deeply into a place the characters are basically passing through, yet not losing site of the place itself, giving the reader enough information to make the place seem alive. She does a really good job structuring and pacing the novel so that each stop, each island, is alive, yet doesn’t rabbit trail the novel too far away from its narrative thrust.
But that narrative thrust is my problem. Every fantasy novel seems to want to save the world from some overarching evil. And here, Le Guin adheres to the trope. It’s indicative of a larger problem: where the first two novels subverted and played with tropes, this one spends more time adhering to them, and less playing with them. There’s a prophecy and wouldn’t you know, this boy Arran is the one prophesied about. The old wise wizard saves the day, and he comes off much more like Merlin in this book, though that is tempered by his fatherlyness. And the real fallout of this problem is that some of the action, the situations the book embarks on, is overly foreign—too relegated to this fantasy world, and not as easily conceived by the reader. It's hard to fear a dragon, and so Le Guin does more telling than she should here, because her telling is inadequate to draw me into the full import of what she is saying. Okay, so magic is dying out, but the first two books spent a lot of time showing that magic wasn't the most widespread thing in this world, so who cares? It seemed like Le Guin is a better writer than storyteller here, because the overall thrust of the book is a disappointment. But this is probably just squabbling. I still wish that I could write something this good, despite this one fault.
The theme of the book is death, power, and love. Three strong themes that Le Guin handles beautifully. Though these three themes are wrapped up in fantasy trappings, Le Guin manages to make them understandable and applicable to her reader still the same. Death is naturally something to fear, but there is a healthy way to approach it. Power is most useful when it doesn’t insist upon itself, but is selfless when required. Love, as a theme, takes place between Ged and Arran as father-figure and son-figure. This is a good portrait of a parent-child relationship, and it is nice to see a fantasy book without some scantily clad heart-throb.
In all, another fantastic book by Ursula K Le Guin. I’m loving exploring her work more after being floored by The Dispossessed. There is some other strong stuff in her oeuvre. And this book counts among them. It’s better written than the other two Earthsea novels in the original trilogy. But the overall driving force of the story does let it down some.
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