My Experience with The Farthest Shore by Ursula K. Le Guin
My time to revisit Earthsea has come, and I had the privilege to read The Farthest Shore by Ursula K. Le Guin this time around. As the original conclusion to her Earthsea world, I was curious how she would wrap up her saga, especially after the detour taken in the second novel.
As wizards across Earthsea are diminishing in power and its people are afflicted with an unexplained forgetting—a sickness that takes away the songs and names of things, even speech itself. A young prince, Arren has sought help from the great Archmage, Sparrowhawk. Together they embark on a journey to uncover the source of the spreading ailment and put an end to its erosion of Earthsea.
Le Guin is a master of the English language. Her ability to shape an image in my mind or evoke a mood or emotion is nearly unparalleled considering the relative narrative distance that the tale takes. Her rich language complements well with her focus on thematic depth. The novel explores the importance of self-imposed limits on power and tackles themes that will likely continue to be as relevant for readers when the book was released as it will be in the future as mankind is constantly confronted with an increasingly distant horizon for our potential.
Like the two novels before it, The Farthest Shore continues to build the world of Earthsea. The part that I enjoyed the most was the exploration of the Raft People. Their sea-faring society was interesting and I hadn’t quite seen anything like it before. The time we spent with them was fleeting, but it was wonderful while it lasted.
But, alas, this book left me feeling… adrift. And I’m having a hard time nailing down why. The only thing I can point to is that while the prose was exceptional, the themes excellent, and the world immersive, the relationship between the characters and the development of Arren didn’t resonate with me. Further, because Le Guin’s second installment feels disconnected from the first and third novel, I find myself wondering if there was a better way to conclude the trilogy. Could she have tied both journeys together to create a more complete catharsis?
But I have the privilege of hindsight, and I know that the series did not in fact end here as originally planned. Because of this, I remain open to reading further to discover if the weakest novel in the series thus far is only a means to a wondrous end.
If you’re absolutely in love with the first two novels in this series, I’d be hard pressed to say you shouldn’t continue. Many of the same elements are present here, and may very well be satisfactory for you. But if you haven’t enjoyed the first couple of books, then maybe your next adventure lies elsewhere.
