a wizard of earthsea

14 Mar, 2026

(spoilers for the novel ahead!)

last year, my friends and i decided we'd run a book club with a theme for every month. i managed to be diligent about this until july when my job started picking up; but in the end, it was ursula k. le guin's a wizard of earthsea that bested me.

much like ged, my stay on the island of roke was prolonged: it lasted nearly seven months. i suspect that the reason for this is that the fantasy cut a little too deep into my reality. to be honest, it sort of hurts to look at even now that i've read it end to end.

a smart kid with somewhat of a temper gets knocked on their ass in the act of succumbing to their own hubris. this happens many times over, but never more horribly and irrevocably than during the period in which they attend school. where have i heard this story before? (ha-ha!) still. a reminder of my bruised ego usually doesn't stop me from consuming a piece of media. in fact, by-and-large this is all but a guarantee i get invested hard and fast. ¹

in other words: it wasn't the highly-relatable main character that cowed me, but the sharpness of his circumstance. le guin paints such a vivid picture of horror and the many ways it might find us: unguarded, at our most prideful, seeking to call it by name— all the while keeping it brief. which is to say: the pacing is achingly true to life. we slay one dragon and then it’s onto the next adventure. we take breaths but not so many before the next loss, or the next tragedy.

every encounter is momentous, significant, and arresting; yet each happens in the blink of an eye. naturally, we feel tired. we grow weary. likewise, ged recovers, but never fully. the arrogance and wonder so characteristic of the boy who set out past gont's borders at the beginning of the book are shed within a few short paragraphs, then sanded down repeatedly.

“He was so beaten and broken and cold that this crawling through the wet sand in the whistling, sea-thundering dark was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.”

(Le Guin, 1968, p. 215)

now look: i’ve never been shipwrecked on a deserted island before, but i have passed through the place where everything is dark and scary and the body is a vessel that suddenly loses its inherent buoyancy. crawling out of that long and endless night towards uncertainty was hell. (adulthood is, i assume, the worst thing to happen to anybody.) considering i usually jump into a world to escape this one, it makes sense why i wasn’t keen on reliving such bad memories.

i’ll be honest. i only finished this book in early january because things got easier for both me and the titular sparrowhawk. time and wind took and gave in turns. showing up to work is as hard as it’s ever been, but waking up early feels good now. walking to buy breakfast lifts my spirits. the cats around my office are usually up for pets, the sweetest. i still cry when i dream of mâ and 'kong, but i’m always relieved to see their faces. i’ve begun to say yes every time i’m asked to hang out, even when i’m afraid i’ll have to disappoint someone eventually.

after all, it is only in company of friends, mentors, and in the act of healing, teaching, and weaving spellwork for others’ benefit that the gebbeth is staved off into the margins for both us and the wizard. it is only in chasing, asking, and running towards instead of away that living becomes an act of banishing shadow.

for my money, the beauty and charm of all writing is that so much can be picked up between the lines; but this, le guin bestows to us in plain language. and for good reason— in her world, words have power, so the old and wise man tells us: “…if you keep running, wherever you run you will meet danger and evil, for it drives you, it chooses the way you go. You must choose. You must seek what seeks you.”

i’m having a tough go at seeking the big stuff, but i’ve started setting myself little quests every week so nothing feels pointless. tonight it’s putting on the face mask i made myself pick out during lunch break. on monday i’ll plant myself next to the market and wait for the red shuttle bus to drive me around the district in a loop. at the start of the year it was to traverse five pages a month, even if that was all i could manage. one of these days, without even realizing, i’ll swallow a shade.

027: this year we will tackle the tombs of atuan