I have loved this book from the first to the penultimate page. Evidently, however, Le Guin has decided that taking the proper space to give the story a dignified ending is an outdated concept.
But let's go in order. "The Threshold" starts from very familiar premises for the dabblers in the genre: we have a secret, magical place where there is no day or night, but only an eternal twilight; we have a strange, cheerful and mysterious people living there, and of course protagonists who until that moment have not done anything good in their lives, ready to discover it.
Once the basics are laid out, the merit of this book is to turn everything upside down: at a certain point one begins to suspect that something is wrong, but there is no a precise moment when this revelation is made to the reader or the characters. It is more of an impression that grows page after page, in a subtle and disturbing way, and even when the impression becomes a fact neither the reader nor the protagonists fully understand what is wrong, or why.
What we gradually discover together with Hugh and Irena is that this magical place, at first so welcoming compared to the sad reality of the real world, is not a new home, but a trap; we discover that the heroes are not heroes but fodder, and that no matter how many years you spend in the house of a people that is not yours, in the end you always remain a foreigner.
Le Guin's style is simply sublime and the story captured me from the start. The descriptions have something lyrical and the characters seem real even if they are sketched slowly, and perhaps in a somewhat too rigid way. The only flaw remains that ending, so insipid and hasty as to be truly unforgivable.