Ordinarily, I wait until I've finished reading a book before writing a review. However, with this one, I couldn't hold back. Halfway through, I penned this on my blog:
--
It's peculiar to review a book before finishing it, but two nights into The Other Wind by Ursula K. Le Guin, I have thoughts that I don't want to delay writing down.
When I was young, I believed my taste in fantasy/fiction would remain unchanged. I craved books that could transport me, books of grand adventure, profound ideas, and passionate love and romance that would sweep me off my feet, along with true friendship that could withstand the test of time. (Essentially, I wanted the Lord of the Rings forever and ever, and that was mostly true until I discovered the Notion Club Papers and transferred my loyalties there.) I yearned for books where I could immerse myself in their stories, see myself in the characters, and become a part of it in some small corner of my imagination. (Many happy childhood hours were spent developing the story where I was the daughter of Thranduil and sister of Legolas.)
Now that I'm older, my taste in fantasy/fiction hasn't altered. But I have. Now that I'm back in a situation where I can easily access English-language fantasy (thanks to public libraries!), I've been reading new (to me) books at an astonishing pace. Suddenly, I realize that, from the perspective of most fantasy, I'm OLD. Slightly past 30 is practically ancient in terms of fantasy heroines. If you're no longer 18 and beautiful, your time has passed, and your days of adventure are over. (And heaven forbid you actually have a CHILD? How many fantasy novels can you name where the main character is a heroine over 30 with a child, whether or not she also has a husband?) It's one of my main gripes about The Curse of Chalion (my review is here), a book that I otherwise adored: Why did the middle-aged hero end up falling in love with and getting the teenage girl instead of the woman he had a schoolboy crush on years ago, who was now widowed and slowly emerging from a nightmare? Isn't she the woman worth loving, fighting for, and having by his side? Hrmph.
So why do I feel compelled to start writing a review of The Other Wind? It's not because of the beautiful language or the stately pace at which it unfolds. It's not because of its "chronicle" style – a certain detachment in the narration that makes it read more like truth than a story. It's not because the opening scenes touch on many of the things that have been on my mind lately, regarding dreams and the people we encounter in them. It's not because of the strength and simplicity of the characters' relationships with each other.
It's because already one of the primary characters is a woman decades older than me, who has a daughter she loves and a husband too. And although her daughter is a decade or more older than mine, in the end, there's hardly any difference: We all must learn how to walk the fine line between protecting and forsaking, and we all must learn how to endure the pain of our children's heartache. Of course, I can do that and still be the heroine of my own adventure. But to find that part of myself reflected in a book, well, I can't wait to read the other half.
--
The other half did not disappoint. It was a beautiful, satisfying book, and I'm looking forward to borrowing the rest of the Earthsea novels from the library.