Dissenting from all those reviews that say La Soglia is one of the worst novels by Le Guin or anyway less successful than the others. True, so far I haven't read many of them, but I think I can still say that La Soglia is not inferior, it's just different. Which means that, of course, some will like it less than the others, but not that it necessarily has something less than the others. The qualities that made me decide to deepen my knowledge of this author I have found here all, and I have enjoyed them. But it's true that the novel has different characteristics from the rest of her production and that therefore it cannot be evaluated in toto with the same criteria, let's say so.

True, La Soglia is a fantasy and it's true, it falls into the subgenre of fantasy of the "journey to another dimension/world/reality" (in short, what in the jargon of Japanese anime would be defined as "isekai"). If it is judged exclusively from this point of view, it is a rather poor isekai, in fact: very little of the other world is shown to us and almost nothing is explained, and the adventures that the protagonists live "on the other side" are meager and in themselves not so exciting. But The Beginning Place (the original title of the book is much more significant than any translation) is not a usual isekai because it's not just an isekai, in fact! The threshold beyond which Hugh and Irene pass and the whole other world are nothing but pretexts, symbols. The Beginning Place is an allegorical novel, it's a set of symbols that serve to talk to us about real life, the real world, the relationships between people, our inner self. It's a coming-of-age novel that takes only the external aspect of fantasy, because in fantasy it more easily finds symbols to draw on to convey its messages.

The theme of La Soglia is flight: both Hugh and Irene find the door by chance, blindly fleeing from different but equally intense situations, and for both this magical place is for a long time nothing but a hiding place, a place to get away from real life and their problems, catch their breath and stop to reflect before reimmersing themselves in the reality they don't love and from which they don't feel loved. The only thing that matters, at the beginning - before Hugh meets Irene and vice versa, thus discovering that there is someone else who can access it - is the fact that beyond the threshold Irene can be completely alone with herself, Hugh can be completely alone with himself, and no one else will be able to pass to disturb them. And it also matters that there time passes much more slowly, so that only there they can have all the time they need for themselves. It's only after a long time that it occurs to them to explore, moving away from the glade, and discover that beyond the starting place there is a whole other world, of which however they will see only the town of Tambreabrezi and little else. Because that's not what matters. And so it's no wonder that, despite the inhabitants of Tambreabrezi seeing in Hugh the hero they were waiting for to be able to save the town and themselves, it's not clear either what the threat is or what Hugh should do to solve it... because that's not the point. Nor is Hugh the usual hero: overweight (but not ugly!) and a bit slow in reasoning (but not stupid!), naive (he doesn't realize he's being "used") and very little courageous (at the first encounter with the threat, he and Irene will flee scared). Hugh and Irene are very ordinary people, not boys endowed with who knows what extraordinary powers, or courage or intelligence out of the ordinary. Hugh and Irene are two young adults (or late adolescents, depending on the definition and therefore the point of view one chooses to assume) insecure, with a complicated family situation and life experience that has generated in them a conflict derived from the inability to reconcile the way others see them and the way they see themselves. And it's for this reason that "the other side" is so important to them: because there this conflict doesn't exist, there Hugh is only Hugh, Irene is only Irene, they can be what they choose to be without suffering any kind of external pressure or judgment.

But clearly flight and hiding are not solutions, because they are not definitive. And it's for this reason that in the other dimension a problem is generated, it's for this reason that it's Hugh and Irene who have to solve it: because they need a stimulus to go beyond themselves, to overcome their fears, to discover that they have the necessary abilities to overcome problems. But above all: something is needed to lead them to conclude their relationship with the other reality, to definitively come out of it, strengthened and united. At the beginning Hugh and Irene feel alone in the world, and find comfort in the fact that they can be really alone beyond the threshold; but they will then discover, in each other, that there are people in the world similar to them, with the same sensitivity and similar problems, and that it's possible to create a bond with these others and that from this bond one can draw strength.

That's why The Beginning Place is a much more suitable title: because at the same time it indicates how the place where initially the two protagonists take refuge is only the beginning of a whole world to explore; but it also indicates the place, the moment of the beginning of what will be a new life for them, after they have found in themselves the strength to overcome the obstacles and face the problems of the real world.

Not a true fantasy, then, but a coming-of-age novel tinged with fantasy. Not a novel of who knows what depth or psychological subtlety, but a delicate novel in which Ursula shows fully all her sensitivity, her empathy, her ability to show us the heart of people and make us love "normal" characters with the whole package of virtues and defects that they carry with them. Not much happens in La Soglia - much of the chapters describe the movements of the two protagonists within the immense twilight forest that fills the other world - but the writing so lyrical and fluid makes even these moments of apparent nothing interesting, because after all the journey is more important than the destination, isn't it? It's what happens along the way that matters, because without that we could never reach the result, whatever it is.

This, along with the non-fantastical "Very Far Away from Anywhere Else" and a collection of short stories, makes up my personal LeGuin canon. Yes, it has its flaws, but it hits so many right chords and reminds me why I love fantasy.

It's a portal fantasy, a genre I'm generally skeptical of. Except for Narnia, I usually prefer to read novels about characters who are native to their fantastical worlds rather than novels about ordinary people who are amazed by every detail. But this one, perhaps because it is so firmly rooted in the terrors and ugliness of our suburban sprawl, really grabs me.

The plot is simple. A boy and a girl, both "stuck" in life. He lives with his emotionally abusive mother and works a dead-end grocery job. She has a "kid's job" running errands and provides what support she can for her mother, who is trapped in a second marriage to an abusive husband. Both are abandoned by their fathers, and neither mother can offer much in the way of an example of how they want to live their lives. They are stuck.

Both find a portal to a magical land. There, they find refreshment, solace, and spiritual support. She finds the family (of sorts) that she always thought she needed, and he finds the natural world, full of strangeness and invigorating promise, with a taste of bitter mint. But as they mature in their understanding, they realize that the village itself is "stuck," and not just because a vague magical curse prevents travel for all the natives.

The experienced fantasy reader can probably see where the plot is going from here, but I think that's partly the point.

On a technical level, the book is a mixed bag. The two protagonists are pretty great. The boy hovers delightfully on the edge of likability, with his passivity and confusion ringing a painfully authentic note. The girl is much more of a traditional portal-fantasy character, filling her world with imaginative joys despite her grim circumstances. (She's also delightfully self-aware. "This was the place where she was herself, her own. She was home, home-- No, but on the way home...") The secondary world is quietly realized. At first, it appears to be a sort of flat bucolic place of rest, like Narnia or the Big Rock Candy Mountain. In a C.S. Lewis novel, it would stay that way; in a Gene Wolfe novel, the citizens might echo the dark psychology of the main characters. But LeGuin is an anthropologist at heart, so the fantasy-world's residents feel like more than symbols or metaphors, even if we only see glimpses of their agency. The love story has a great setup and a weird, rushed conclusion.

But I will always love this book for two reasons. First, there is the simple vividness of the discovery of fairyland, the sense of the sublime. The boy drinks the waters of fairyland and is taken beyond thought. "What his mind had no words for his body understood entirely and with ease, and praised," so that he sits with an "intensity which he understood as prayer." This is not so much him transcending nature as escaping into its beauty; fairyland is more poignant because he knows that "the suburbs, the freeway, the city all were directly behind him." She has a similar, if more self-conscious experience. She burns a wooden figure as a sacrifice. "That had all been silly, kid stuff. The things people did in church were silly too. There were reasons for doing them. She would dance the endless dance if she felt like it."

Tolkien shaped my view of fantasy, so I absolutely love this stuff. Fantasy as a reflection of the physical wonder of our universe, sharpened and (re)placed in an explicitly religious context. The grandfather of the genre was, after all, both a devout Catholic and a literal tree-hugger; The Lord of the Rings is about death, but it's also written by the sort of apolitical environmentalist who would spend hours in communion with a tree, then grow enraged when his neighbor murdered it for firewood. LeGuin gets that connection between natural beauty, solace, and religious awe in a way that few authors do. She is a poet of nature and tradition, as long as both are allowed to be alive and fertile.

Second, she sharpens the claws of fantasy. C.S. Lewis once observed, in defense of fantasy, that the one class of people most obsessed with preventing "escape" are prison guards. It's a line LeGuin often echoes. There's a quietly insistent bitterness towards the world outside LeGuin's Tembreabrezi--or at least, the world as experienced by the protagonists. Forests have been bulldozed to make way for a suburbia of ugly litter, dehumanizing jobs, short-lived relationships, and long-lasting trauma. Yet the air and water of Tembreabrezi inspire the protagonists to begin transforming their world. For checkout-counter-worker Hugh, by seeing (for the first time) his line of customers as a collection of human beings, each unique and valuable. Irene already saw the humanity in others; she finds the courage to move away from her unstable roommates and get a flat in the city. Fantasy here is escape, but not in the sense of tuning out. Instead, fantasy focuses attention. It provides a point of contrast with the world, a different perspective. Again, the religious echoes are inescapable. "That water he must drink; no other quenched his thirst." The rivers of Tembreabrezi gain quasi-baptismal powers, making the world new.

Ultimately, of course, the two move to the city, ambiguously married, un-stuck, and working for their particular futures. The last line is perfect. And yet, in the end, my main memory of the novel remains the feel of Tembreabrezi's water in the mouth and the taste of mint.

Continuing my exploration of the works of Ursula K. Le Guin, this 1980 novel invites comparisons to C.S. Lewis' Narnia and Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking-Glass.

However, the only similarity I can discern is that average young people discover access to a parallel world where time behaves peculiarly. In this instance, the parallel world is the idyllic woodland of Tembreabrezi, a place where it is perpetually twilight, and the people lead simple, peaceful lives. Or at least they did.

But now, fear has seized the land, and the inhabitants of Mountain Town find the paths closing, trapping them.

The story commences with Hugh Rogers, a grocery clerk residing with his mother, who accidentally stumbles upon a gateway to Tembreabrezi. After realizing that a day in Tembreabrezi equates to a minute in the real world, he begins making frequent camping trips to the 'beginning place' by a river, feeling more at ease there than in his own world.

Inevitably, he encounters Irena, a girl who has been visiting Tembreabrezi for years and views Hugh as an unwanted intruder. To her chagrin, the people of Mountain Town believe he might hold the key to helping Tembreabrezi overcome its mysterious fear.

To be frank, I didn't truly engage with this novel. I felt that Tembreabrezi was insufficiently developed both as a location and as a conceptual haven for Hugh and Irena. Similarly, the eventual revelation of the source of the fear was anticlimactic.

I'm informed that it's all intended to be Jungian metaphors and symbols – that is, Tembreabrezi is more of a state of mind than a physical place, and Le Guin deliberately refrains from explaining everything, leaving you to puzzle it out. Well, okay, and I don't think authors must spell out every detail or engage in the kind of hyperdetailed worldbuilding seen with Tolkien or George RR Martin. But if that was Le Guin's intention here, it eluded a simple person like me, for which I take full responsibility.

I began reading Le Guin several years ago, and she has delicately convinced me to read everything she has published.

This specific title was a random find in a used bookstore: the blurb on the back cover depicts a dreadfully cliched story, one that I would have promptly put back on the shelf if I hadn't come to trust the author.

Le Guin's stories flow like wide, quiet brooks - powerful, resolute, and peaceful. Come if you wish to contemplate, and she will offer you words worthy of pondering.

Her writing has a unique charm that draws you in and makes you want to explore every nook and cranny of her fictional worlds.

Even when the initial premise might seem familiar, she has a way of adding her own twists and turns that keep you engaged from start to finish.

Le Guin is truly a master of her craft, and I feel privileged to have discovered her works.

Each time I pick up one of her books, I know I'm in for a thought-provoking and enjoyable reading experience.

Don't know what to rate this yet.

It's a bit of a conundrum. On one hand, there are certain aspects that seem quite promising. The initial impression is not bad, but there are also some elements that leave room for improvement.

Maybe it's the lack of clarity in some areas or the need for more detailed explanations. Or perhaps it's the overall presentation that could be enhanced.

Until these issues are addressed, it's difficult to assign a specific rating. It's important to take a closer look and evaluate all the factors objectively.

Only then can a more accurate and fair assessment be made.

So for now, the rating remains undetermined, waiting for further examination and refinement.

Ursula K. Le Guin is a renowned author, but for my first encounter with her works, I unfortunately chose the wrong book! Sadly, it wasn't a work that I really liked.

The book actually started really beautifully. Thanks to the song "In Flames - The Quiet Place" (although when you listen to it, the song is not very "quiet" but it's one of my favorite songs), I have always tried to find my own quiet place in a city like Ankara. I'm still looking for it actually. The quiet place where I can take my book and read it peacefully, work comfortably, and when necessary, listen to my own thoughts and make the necessary decisions for myself. Indeed, during my high school years, I had found some such places, but unfortunately, with some decisions made regarding them, all of them left me. After those years, I had a park that I really liked to go to, but when it started to be a haunt for lovers, I began to not be able to enjoy it there. For all these reasons, the fact that this book started with such a theme immediately caught my attention. Ursula K. Le Guin had created the world there very beautifully.

While the first half of the book progressed very nicely, in the second half, both the characters of the Mountain Village and the main characters gradually became unimportant and ordinary in my eyes. I couldn't find any feature in them that interested me, I couldn't understand the decisions they made, and I couldn't solve the factors that caused their actions. Especially towards the end of the book, my disappointment started to increase. Since I'm not someone who is very interested in love-themed novels, it is even more necessary for the story to convince me. In this way, I never lose my interest in the book. But unfortunately, the story here could not captivate me in any way on this subject. The beauty of the created world gradually broke away from me, and I could neither find the peace at the beginning nor any emotion that would make me excited at the end.

Since she is one of the master pens of fantasy literature, I will definitely read her other works (probably the next work will be "The Dispossessed"), but I think this book should not be read with great expectations.

Okay, so this thing was truly insanely good. There were certain points that were so deep and profound that they really made me think. It was like delving into the depths of something really meaningful. But then, on the other hand, there were also moments that made me laugh out loud in confusion. I was just like, "What...?" It was so unexpected and strange that it just tickled my funny bone. And then there were those other times when my jaw dropped in shock. I couldn't believe what was happening. It was like a total surprise that left me completely dumbfounded. Overall, it was a really wild and crazy experience that had me feeling all kinds of emotions.

I have a deep love for Ursula Le Guin. Although this novel didn't resonate with me as strongly as some of her other masterpieces, it is still exquisitely written. The concept of two individuals fleeing from their issues and having a sense of not belonging anywhere, only to enter this liminal world that颠覆了传统的奇幻设定 and fails to offer the sense of belonging they both long for, is quite interesting. In fact, they remain outsiders in this world as well... until they come to the realization that they don't have to be outsiders to each other. They discover a way to belong somewhere: with one another.

However, there were several aspects of this story that didn't quite work for me. The friendship between the characters barely has a chance to blossom before the romance occurs in a rather abrupt manner. The confrontation with the creature feels anticlimactic, and the scenes of wandering through the wilderness seem to drag on a bit too much. Additionally, I desired a bit more closure regarding Hugh and Irena's backstories.

Nevertheless, I don't regret reading this novel. Despite not enjoying it as much as I have enjoyed other works by Le Guin, it still has its own unique charm and offers some thought-provoking ideas.

This is yet another book that I devoured during my late teenage years and has remained etched in my memory ever since.

It is, quite simply, a captivating coming-of-age fantasy tale. It has the remarkable ability to draw the reader in, compelling them to establish a personal connection with the characters.

As one delves into its pages, they are invited to peer into the enchanting realms of imagination and fantasy. The setting of the story is truly unique, existing both as a tangible, magical place and yet also as something more fleeting and ephemeral.

I find myself completely losing track of time and reality when immersed in Le Guin's world. And when I eventually return to this one, I am left with the distinct feeling that I am but a guest, having just visited a place of wonder and magic.

It is a testament to the power of great literature that it can transport us to such extraordinary places and leave such a lasting impression.

As a disclaimer, let me tell you that I’m not much of a science-fiction lover. Ursula K. Le Guin is the goddess of science-fiction, and being this the first book that I read from her, I was hoping that maybe she would convert me to the genre. Well, not yet.

First let’s address what I did like about the book. The writing is one of the亮点. Usually, when I read something within the fantasy or science-fiction genre, the focus seems to be on the story and the writing usually is not as polished. But Le Guin does have, in fact, a pleasant way of writing. The descriptions are lovely and in the right amount, they bring believability to the entire scenario, which is a plus when reading something that doesn’t have a correspondence with reality. Another aspect I liked was the characters. They are well built and believable. Also, Irena is a strong and tough woman. The “damsel in distress” is something that really puts me off in a narrative, so having such a powerful character was a big thumbs up.

Now, onto what I didn’t like. The rhythm throughout the entire book is a major issue. There are significant differences in the flow of the story. The first chapters are incredibly slow; it took me almost half the book to feel somehow connected to the story. And then, the pace picks up and everything seems to happen at once. Everything feels rushed. The climax of the story occurs towards the end of the book, and then a snowball of events is concentrated in the last 2 or 3 chapters. The romance in The Beginning Place isn’t believable at all. It seems so far-fetched. The characters seem to be developing some sort of platonic feelings towards the inhabitants of Tembreabrezi, and then, all of a sudden, those feelings vanish and they get enamoured with each other! Additionally, the translation is a disappointment. I didn’t read the book in English, and probably I would have enjoyed the book much more if I did. The translation in the version that I read was so poor that it made me mad. Some characters’ names were translated, some weren’t. And then, sometimes, I found some “creative expressions” that don’t even exist in the dictionary. Seriously…it’s a bad work from the translator and from the editor as well. Not good.

The narrative style is unfortunately not for me at all.

There are far too many unnecessary descriptions of the surroundings, and far too few explanations of what he feels and why his actions should make sense.

To top it off, there is a translation that was apparently done into some southern German dialect, which a northerner can at most infer from the context.

I gave up.

It's really a pity because the story might have had potential if the style was more engaging and the translation was more accessible.

The excessive focus on the environment made it difficult for me to connect with the characters and their emotions.

And the dialect in the translation added an extra layer of confusion.

I hope that in the future, the author will consider using a more straightforward narrative style and a more widely understood translation.

This way, more readers will be able to enjoy and appreciate the story.

This was a romance that fell below the queen's standards. If someone else had written it, I would probably have thought differently and appreciated it more, but when it came to Le Guin, I felt it fell short of my expectations (and her level).

Starting from one of the most well-known mythical archetypes, she has written a modern-day myth about coming of age. The forest that is fled from, crossing the forest (coming of age itself), the step-parents who don't allow you to grow, and what is experienced during the process of crossing the forest (the successful and unsuccessful steps taken on the path of coming of age) were in a way very classic. There was no new flavor added to this. Defeating the monster as the savior and completing the forest also completed the other archetypes. But I'm saying, it was all classic mythical elements and there was no other innovation apart from bringing this to the modern world. However, from Ursula Le Guin, whom I love very, very much, I expected a pen like hers and more than that.

I read the first half of the book thinking "I found the 2nd book that Le Guin wrote that I won't be able to love for the rest of my life". The novel got stuck in loops. The second half was more pleasant. Everything had settled more. Still, it fell short of my expectations.

I still love the master herself very much and have incredible respect. But after reading so many of her works, my heart is not satisfied with leaving this work like this.