Although magic is almost absent in this 4th volume of the Terramar saga, I really liked the story.

The plot and the excellent writing of the author always kept me interested.

I have to investigate whether it will be worth reading "In a Different Wind" or not.

This volume offers a unique perspective and takes the readers on a captivating journey.

The characters are well-developed and their relationships add depth to the story.

Even without the prominent presence of magic, the author manages to create a world that is engaging and full of surprises.

It makes me curious to explore more of her works and see what other adventures she has in store for us.

Overall, it was a great read and I look forward to delving into more of the Terramar saga.

She watched the child stack the wood in the box. “If power were trust,” she said. “I like that word. If it weren’t all these arrangements - one above the other - kings and masters and mages and owners - It all seems so unnecessary. Real power, real freedom, would lie in trust, not force.”

I've always had something to complain about with Le Guin books and it's felt weird. It's like I am not getting something that so many people love. Well, I have a confession to make. I don't get dragons. Like I just don't get the appeal?! But more importantly, I knew from the first pages that this would be my favorite Ursula book and this was true all throughout it. So many people were telling me that I'd love it, but then again, so many people told me I'd love The Dispossessed and I just liked it. But this, this is one of those books that feels like it's made for me and my tastes and not only is it my fave Ursula, it's also now one of my favorite books.

Life danced me. I know the dancer, but I don't know who the dancer is.

From the get go I could feel a sort of confidence and directness that I haven't felt in any of her novels. The writing is almost unbearably tender and there is so much pain there and anger. It is incredibly honest and Ursula K. Le Guin finally addresses womanhood head-on. As opposed to The Left Hand of Darkness, which I'd say is indirectly about women, but more overtly about The Other. So there is a maturity, nuance and complexity here that I adored and felt very hurt by, oof. We pick up with Tenar from The Tombs of Atuan 25 years later and she is a widow now, with two grown children. She has sort of recently adopted a disfigured girl, Therru. This is where I come with a content warning: Therru is a victim of CSA and she was badly abused and dealing with the trauma. The book really surprised me with the level of real-life violence and brutality mentioned and depicted, especially in the beginning and the end. And Tenar is a middle-aged woman who is fucking angry and extremely relatable in her anger.

A good deal of her obscurity and cant, Tenar had begun to realize, was mere ineptness with words and ideas. Nobody had ever taught her to think consecutively. Nobody had ever listened to what she said. All that was expected, all that was wanted of her was muddle, mystery, mumbling. She was a witchwoman. She had nothing to do with clear meaning.

One of the things I hated the most in A Wizard of Earthsea was the mixture of sexism of the world and Le Guin's acknowledged internalized sexism, manifesting in things I never forgot like weak as women's magic, wicked as women's magic, a sort of 'common wisdom' found in the world. But here, Tenar and Le Guin in meta-mode meditate on that saying and the bullshit that lies beneath it. But it's not just Tenar's own thought process on the places women have in this world that comments on the saying. I loved that Le Guin revisited a character like Auntie Moss to pull apart at the stereotype of witch she used in the first book. Awesome, no notes!

I also loved the relationship between Tenar and Therru, and how Therru's trauma is presented from the outside. I think her disfigurement was nicely handled in the book. Tenar worries about what her life will be like being shunned and blamed by people for her really bad burns and would like the girl to be healed, but the narrative very clearly tells us that it's the people who are wrong and not my sweet cinnamon bun Therru who is worthy of all the love and care. And Tenar is also worried about what to teach Therru about the world. She is worried that she is teaching her 'womanly' things like cooking and spinning, while at the same time trying to unpack for herself that womanly things are not necessarily inferior. Loved all of this.

“I don’t know, my dearie. I’ve thought on it. Often I’ve thought on it. The best I can say it is like this. A man’s in his skin, see, like a nut in its shell.” She held up her long, bent, wet fingers as if holding a walnut. “It’s hard and strong, that shell, and it’s all full of him. Full of grand man-meat, manself. And that’s all. That’s all there is. It’s all him and nothing else, inside.”

And there are actually even more female characters that round out the cast in such a pleasant way. And then we come to the men! Honestly, I don't know what's going on, but seeing Sparrowhawk and the new king Lebannen through Tenar's eyes, even for a few pages, has made me see them with more tenderness myself. Tenar is just that great as a character, actually. I loved being in her head so much. And I feel like re-reading the series after this would make it even better. Because there is so much commentary on past books and the world, seen from the side of women. Sparrowhawk has gone through something at the ending of the last book and now he has to figure out how to live his life anew. And I didn't used to like him, but the book convinced me. There's a lot here about how men build their identity on their power and mission and ego and how if women had power too, the men would be lost, because they'd lose their identity. But Sparrowhawk somehow manages to work within his new situation. One of the first endearing moments for him is when Tenar wants to clear the table, but he says: I'll do it and he does the dishes. It's because he has been on his own for so long, and he doesn't default to having the nearby woman do it. I really dug that and the rest of what happened to him.

So yeah, yesterday we had the Ursula K. Le Guin 50 km walk. I did 30 of that and I'm proud. And I was already talking about the first half of this book super-passionately. A friend said that me loving it is very on-brand, so there you go. I finally have a Le Guin book that's in my personal pantheon of books. Worth celebrating!

**"Tehanu": A Masterpiece of Fantasy Realism**

A masterpiece in fantasy realism.

Tehanu is an extraordinary book. Each time I read a work by Le Guin, I am amazed by her achievements. When reading fantasy of that era or even today, one typically encounters a derivative world with a typical hero's arc of a young man. However, Tehanu offers something completely different. The main character, Tenar, is a widow probably in her fifties, raising a young girl disfigured by a brutal assault. And Ged, the once young and hot mage from the first book, is now an impotent and sad man who mopes around for most of the book. So, not only does this book subvert every existing fantasy trope, but it also presents a cast of dreary, sad, and exhausted characters.

So why did I like this book?

Because Tenar's first-person POV experience as a woman is one of the best I've ever read.

A man gives out, dearies. A woman takes in.

Tenar's journey from a young girl who released Ged from an ancient prison in Tombs of Atuan to a widow raising an orphan after her husband's passing is as real, mundane, and true to life as it gets. This book is about Tenar's decision not to pursue the man's world of sorcery, into which she was once vetted, and instead choose a more ordinary path. It's about coming full circle from the prior romanticism of fantasy elements to something more firmly rooted in the real world and filled with truths about patriarchy.

Ours is only a little power, seems like, next to theirs. But it goes down deep. It's all roots. And a wizard's power's like a fir tree, maybe, great and tall and grand, but it'll blow right down in a storm.

A man's in his skin, see, like a nut in its shell. It's hard and strong that shell, and it's all full of him. Full of grand man-meat, man-self. And that's all. That's all there is. It's all him and nothing else inside… Who knows where a woman begins and ends? No one knows, no one knows, no one can say what I am, what a woman is, a woman of power, a woman's power, deeper than the roots of trees, deeper than the roots of islands, older than the Making, older than the moon. Who dares ask questions of the dark? Who'll ask the dark its name?

The thing about this book is that Le Guin shows us the downtrodden Tenar and her daughter Tehanu and walks us through bits of dialogue and inner monologue about the patriarchal order. We start nodding along about these perceived differences between men and women, even though we know full well that the differences are social constructs. But then Le Guin subverts even this when Tenar answers the question "Who'll ask the dark its name?" with:

I will. I've lived long enough in the dark.

Le Guin more than hints at this in her acknowledgement. Tenar embodies questioning and defying the social sex power hierarchy while at the same time portraying a woman who is very much navigating that very real power disparity.

Basically, most men in this book are a disappointment, especially Tenar's son who shows up at the end, can't feed himself, and insists on inheriting the farm. Then there's the emasculation of Ged, who gave up his power in the previous book and becomes a new companion to Tenar. His arc is truly remarkable. The new King, Arren from the prior book, also seems to have his head on straight but is scratching his head looking for the new archmage who is supposed to be some woman on Gont. The problem is that none of these men can imagine that a woman could be the new archmage, only the means to discover the new archmage who must be a man.

’A woman on Gont’ can’t become archmage. No woman can be archmage. She’d unmake what she became into becoming it. The Mages of Roke are men—their power is the power of men, their knowledge is the knowledge of men. Both manhood and magery are built on a rock: power belongs to men. If women had power, what would men be but women who can’t bear children? And what would women be but men who can?

And here's the ultimate subversion. The new archmage they're looking for is Tenar's adopted child Tehanu, who derives her power directly from the dragons. That is the questioning done in this book. Yes, there is a power hierarchy dichotomy between the sexes in this book and in real life. But to explain the power differences as such vastly different qualitative sources and means in a way supports this patriarchy. What Le Guin is saying with Tehanu (or Therru) is that this young, disfigured, and scorned girl is her own power, on its own legs that doesn't exist within the boundaries and definitions set by the patriarchy. And that is why this book was such a masterpiece for me.

This comes out in Tenar's words to Tehanu:

You are beautiful. Listen to me, Therru. You have scars, ugly scars, because an ugly, evil thing was done to you. People see those scars. But they see you, too, and you aren't the scars. You aren't ugly. You aren't evil. You are Therru, and beautiful. You are Therru who can work, and walk, and run, and dance, beautifully, in a red dress.”

I'll leave this review with a line that will stay with me forever:

What cannot be healed must be transcended.

First of all, what an amazing ending this book has. That ending that suddenly knocked me down with its left hook and then, with eyes shining almost blindingly with joy, somehow made me get back up again. I used the word "blinding" because my thoughts about the book are completely scattered. Still, I will try to gather them somehow and present them to you, I hope.

There are parts in the book that bothered me in some ways but on the other hand, I gave them their due until the end. In the book, I interpreted how motherhood has such a sublime feeling in the world and as if the real power of women is formed through "giving life" and "preserving life". Indeed, we men are the main culprits of the destruction that humans have caused to nature. Due to our addiction to power, we control people through certain concepts, we fight and make war with those who do not agree with us and have the same ideas, and our desire to control life rather than live life itself through concepts such as the competition we have established to get what we want. But I am one of those who think that women, who have the ability to "give life" to humans, know the meaning of life much better than us. Therefore, I am one of those who think that the power of women should never be underestimated by adhering to the realism of most of the ideas in the book.

I can say that I experienced the strength of the mother-daughter relationship in the book in every detail. I was worried about Therru, I was afraid for her, and I loved her watering her peach tree. I became like a parent in a way, and this situation gave me a perspective on how difficult it would be to protect her if I were a woman. How hard is it to see the world through a big window? There is so much information that sometimes, due to these small details, how possible is it to see that big window? We have a life to live, we have a life or lives to raise, and we also have a huge war with life to protect ourselves on the one hand and to protect them and provide for their future on the other hand. How can we be successful in this regard within our human limitations? Probably the answer to this is our "survival" that strengthens our weak sides rather than our addiction to power.

The problem I found with the book is that a character who grew up with us throughout the first three books completely fades away here. To be honest, it was sometimes quite difficult to read these parts. I clearly felt my biggest problem with feminism in this book.

Generally, in fantasy books, we read the story of the struggle between good and evil, light and darkness. The philosophies underlying these stories are the elements that distinguish these books from each other in a way. The element that I liked the most in the Earthsea series is how much we can use our experiences and knowledge as we grow. How this knowledge is used is not only related to power, and I find it unnecessary to distinguish between men and women just because of this. Does a character become strong only because of what they do, or is it the lessons and experiences they gain from what they have done and what they have not done that form their knowledge? The fact that the importance of this knowledge is thrown away in the book is my biggest problem with the book. I think that when sharing an ideology, we should be aware that our prejudices in this regard can prevent that ideology from advancing, both with us and with our environment. And I saw those prejudices in this book and read it with sadness.

The thing that affected me the most in the series was the descriptions of nature. In The Farthest Shore, my longing for the sea increased a lot, and here it is for the forest. I missed my trekking days so much... The pure smell of that green, the sun smiling at us through the leaves, the river accompanying us along the path. Thanks to Ursula K. Le Guin, I understand much better every time why the name of this series is "Earth" and "Sea". I hope that in the coming time periods, I can get away from these technological pursuits and spend more time with nature.

I don't know why it's taken me so many years to finally try this book. I've loved the original Earthsea trilogy since I was a child. Maybe I was scared I wouldn't like this one? And maybe if I'd read it when it first came out, I wouldn't have liked it so much...?

Well, now I have finally read it, and I like it more than I can say. It is beautiful, quiet, tender, and harrowing. The Tombs of Atuan has long been my favourite Earthsea book, but Tehanu, I think, has matched it. This book feels like it's been burned onto the paper with an intensity rarely seen in fantasy writing. It's heartfelt, angry, painful, and ferociously, delicately human.

The story of Tehanu is one that touches the soul. It explores themes of loss, grief, and the power of love and redemption. The characters are so well-developed that they feel like real people. Ged, the wizard, has grown and changed since the previous books, and his relationship with Tehanu is both touching and complex.

Overall, I would highly recommend this book to anyone who loves fantasy or just a good story. It's a must-read for fans of the Earthsea series and a great introduction for those who haven't yet discovered this wonderful world.

When I read this a couple of years ago, I saw it as a rather odd postscript to the central Earthsea trilogy.

Written almost twenty years after The Farthest Shore, it addresses some of the problems in the Earthsea novels. Le Guin considers the role of women in the world of Earthsea and questions why they are relegated to the margins of society.

On rereading it, I found it felt vital. The characters are fully-fleshed out, and the stories are complex and interesting. I'm not sure why I wasn't particularly moved by it on my first reading.

The story centres on Tenar, who first appeared in The Tombs of Atuan as a young priestess. Now, she is a widow in her late forties, with two grown-up children, and runs a prosperous farm.

Tehanu, the title character of the book, is an abused and injured child whom Tenar cares for and tries to nurse back to health.

Though Tehanu is a child, this book feels instantly more adult than the previous Earthsea installments. It is made clear that 8-year-old Tehanu has been beaten, raped, and partially burnt in a fire. This is never sensationalised but is part of the fabric of the story.

Le Guin wants to remind us that terrible things happen to women and to children.

Though Tenar's place in the world and her anger towards men who patronise and wish to harm her are central parts of the novel, its primary story is about healing.

Tenar is trying to heal Tehanu and also heal the child she, Tenar, once was. She also tries to care for an old woman, Moss.

Partway through the story, Ged appears flying a dragon, no longer able to do magic. Ged is hurt by the events of The Farthest Shore and must learn to live with what has happened to him.

The plot is not as relevant to the fabric of the story as in the earlier books; character is central.

That being said, there are moments of real tension and mystery in the novel. It is an understated and complex work, touching on many aspects of feminism, love, ageing, and loss, as well as magic.

If you are looking for a direct sequel to the earlier Earthsea books, the tone of Tehanu may feel off, but taking it on its own terms, it is a beautiful and moving work.

I am very happy that my guess was correct!

When I read this book years ago, it disappointed me quite a bit. Perhaps it was because I didn't expect such an introspective and intimate story. However, upon this rereading, I have realized the magnificent book that I had in my hands, both in terms of its plot and its wonderful prose.

The first time I read it, I was looking for something more exciting and action-packed. But now, I see the beauty in its quiet moments and the depth of its characters.

The author's use of language is truly remarkable, painting vivid pictures in my mind and making me feel as if I were a part of the story.

This rereading has been a revelation, and I'm so glad I decided to give this book another chance. It has become one of my favorites, and I know I'll be returning to it again and again in the future.

This is not the same Ursula Le Guin who penned The Wizard of Earthsea in 1968, The Tombs of Atuan in 1971, and The Farthest Shore in 1972. This book was written in 1990 by a completely different Le Guin, and a different writer has crafted a completely different book.

What's astonishing is that the characters have also aged, and their transformation in philosophy, power, and meaning aligns with Le Guin's. That is to say, the break has actually benefited the continuity of the book. The headstrong yet inexperienced young girl we encountered in The Tombs of Atuan has evolved into a woman of profound power, but not in the anticipated way.

The boy Ged, who became the wizard and Archmage Sparrowhawk, is a shell of his former self.

The writer Le Guin has become the great weaver of words and ideas that her younger self promised.

Of all the Earthsea works, Tehanu best showcases Le Guin's mastery and wisdom. It's here that she does the most with the least. The plot is incredibly basic, really just a small village drama, but Le Guin makes it soar. The characters have the most extraordinary and believable depth. Complementing Le Guin's skill as the master wordsmith is her ability to pivot the story around her changed worldview without making it feel preachy. Her discovery of the power of women is the most welcome homecoming.

\\n  \\"No one knows, no one knows, no one can say what I am, what a woman is, a woman of power, a woman’s power, deeper than the roots of trees, deeper than the roots of islands, older than the Making, older than the moon. Who dares ask questions of the dark? Who’ll ask the dark its name?\\"\\n

I vividly remember reading Tehanu during my grade school days.

At that time, I didn't have a great affinity for it. However, upon rereading it many years later, my perspective has completely changed, and I now regard it as a true masterpiece.

The first three Earthsea novels were indeed good, offering interesting plots and entertainment. But Tehanu is in a league of its own.

Its character development and world-building are on par with those in Tombs of Atuan, yet its pacing is superior, and it seamlessly ties into the existing lore.

Moreover, we have the opportunity to see the beloved characters in a more natural and realistic light.

It is truly heartening to discover that, even without the support of myth, magic, and religion, these characters still stand as unique individuals, well-developed and captivating to read about.

The thrilling and fear-inducing moments are expertly crafted and highly memorable, yet they are also down-to-earth.

It is entirely reasonable to anticipate that anyone could find themselves in danger during a home invasion or an unwelcome encounter on the road.

Despite the simple, pastoral setting and the near-absence of magic, the story possesses a certain grandeur that reflects the profound depth of its content.

Tehanu is a book that delves into the nature of people, both the good and the bad, exploring life, growing up, and the mysteries of how others perceive the world.

As a child, I couldn't like this book very much. I believed it required an adult mind to sense the depth of its inquiries and understand the pain and the characters' responses. It is dark, with death and the most ordinary kind of horrible evil, caused solely by men and not by magic. What is power and what does it mean to possess it and then have it taken away? What is a man's power? What is a woman's power?

Now, I think this is perhaps the most powerful book in the Earthsea series (or at least in the quartet). However, it wouldn't have been nearly as excellent a book without the previous tales and the writing of those books. Through the first four books of Earthsea, you can clearly observe Le Guin's own evolution as a writer, a thinker, and a woman, and it reaches its climax in Tehanu.

Where are the women in A Wizard of Earthsea? Here.

So very different from most fantasy fiction, so very beautiful.

It's kind of like an extended riff on that last part of The Lord of the Rings that I've always loved so much. After the great adventure, the heroes return home and discover they have the rest of life to live meaningfully. It's so sad, but so true.

The main protagonist here is Tenar, from The Tombs of Atuan. After her adventure, she married a farmer and made a country life for herself. But then, farmer Flint dies, and soon after, Ogeon, Ged and Tenar's mentor, follows. Ged is brought by the dragon to Ogeon's place on Gont, but his magic is all used up.

Tenar is now trying to figure out her place in the world, care for Ged, and most importantly, help a little girl named Therru. Therru was abused and badly burned by her father and other men. She's timid, disfigured, but perhaps powerful. Tenar faces danger from the men who did the evil, like a sorcerer named Aspen who has a problem with women, and others.

In this book, Le Guin is spelling out her positions on women. She remedies some of the mistakes she made earlier in her career when she left women out of her magical equation. There are hard truths about men and their power here, ideas that current fantasy writers should think hard on. There are also truly harrowing and sad moments regarding the plight of the little girl, who is often feared and blamed for her disfigurement.

I know most people don't read fantasy for its coverage of social issues. If you're after escapism, this isn't the book for you. But it's a wonderful book, one of the great Le Guin's best. If, like me, one of the reasons you like fantasy is the way it allows good writers to address life's biggest questions through allegory and extreme plot scenarios, then this is a book you must read.