The Other Wind (The Earthsea Cycle)

I love Ursula LeGuin's Earthsea novels, but I think the earlier ones were the best. In those, LeGuin seems to have been following her instinct more than her politics (though, even when I first read "A Wizard of Earthsea" in the late 1960s, I thought that Ged's final confrontation with the Gebbeth was a little contrived). In the later ones LeGuin seems to have altered the world of Earthsea seems to have been altered to fit the author's politics. The politics aren't bad, nor her view of women, but I feel that she betrays the honesty in of the earlier books in her revelation that the male wizards have created their power by rejecting the feminine principle and, with it, the reality of death. Also, it makes me sad that she resolves this conflict by bringing "The Art Magic" to an end in order to resolve the problem.

That is not to say that the later books and the issues they bring up are not valid, but in the older books, when humans tried to avoid death, magic and beauty languished, and they were brought back to life when the man representing the urge to live forever was defeated; but in the later books, magic, dragons and magical creativity have to be given away along with the willingness to allow life to end at death. This is a strange inversion of structure of the original stories and one I find depressing.

This is a fitting ending although the story is more episodic than the earlier books and it made me wonder whether the author had a recent tragic loss in her own family. It was a very personal book, sometimes confusing, but ending well and fittingly....

The whole Earth Sea series is wonderfully written and beautifully descriptive of an alternative, fantasy world with magic and dragons. However, unlike Tolkien or other great series, her books jump from timeline to timeline, missing great spans of time and leaving the reader to question how the characters got from point A to C.

I was delighted to see another Earthsea Cycle book. With this one it helps to have read the first four books, but you can enjoy it even without reading them, I read them so long ago that I had to re-learn the early plots, and I did that straight from this book.

The last, it appears, of the Earthsea novels; this was written nearly forty years after the first one but the voice, the cadence, the characters and the background assumptions all ring true.
LeGuin provides many worthy life lessons for all of us through her fantasy writing.

The Earthsea Cycles stand at the top of Science fiction as does LeGuin as creator. If you love this series, check out Patricia McKillips' Riddle Master triology, another classic. All have beautiful language, imaginative plots, and alternative perspectives on life.

I loved the _Earthsea_ trilogy. I read the series as a child, and wore my first copies to death. I don't think there's a finer fantasy series - one more mythic in nature; one more exacting in its prose.
The series was complete in three volumes. It was written by a younger author, and Ursula K Le Guin should not have revisited it. There were objectionable elements, but they were part of Earthsea itself.
In _Tehanu_ and more recently in this volume, Ursula has revisted her world for what seem frankly political reasons. We learn that magic (denied to women in the original volumes) was only restricted because of mysogyny. In fact, it turns out that the best magic users are women. And lesbians too - I have no idea why Ursula needed to tell us this. The Old Powers were the source of evil in the first books; in the current ones they are the helpful and healing source of women's magic.
_Tehanu_ concluded with a deus ex machina. It destroyed the integrity of the first volumes without resolving any of the issues it had raised. There's another story here which reprises that ending - I felt cheated.
This book should not have been written. It's a terrible thing, to destroy something as beautiful as _Earthsea_ was. I have the impression that the admitted mysogyny of the first books weighed so heavily on the author that she was determined to pull it down. To cite only one more example: the original trilogy was sparsely sketched in; things were casually mentioned which were part of the background but never used. In this volume Ursula felt it necessary to supply a lumbering appendix giving the sort of tedious minutiae which you might find in a guidebook - history, biology, etymology and so forth.
I wish I hadn't read this book, or _Tehanu_. If you haven't read either you will probably be happier leaving the latter ones unread. The original books were flawed but uniquely beautiful. These ones are just your standard fantasy stories, written by an accomplished author.

Great ending to a great series. Moved along nicely and kept my attention. Highly recommend it to anyone whose read the Earthsea trilogy. Note there are two other books that come before this one making a total of 6.

I never thought I would have such mixed feelings about a Le Guin novel. Written almost 30 years after the original trilogy, there are subtle differences in the style but these don't impede our imagination until later when suddenly we feel ourselves slipping out of high fantasy mode into a line of ideological notions. Other reviewers have noticed this too. Le Guin's philosophically naive beliefs mar our satisfaction and ultimately rob us of pure literary enjoyment. This is shocking because earlier in her career the author argued forcefully for a key ingredient that makes for successful and profoundly significant fantasy. This genre is capable of portraying the deepest moral tensions. That has been substituted in this novel by a propagandistic end.

Great ending to a great series. Moved along nicely and kept my attention. Highly recommend it to anyone whose read the Earthsea trilogy. Note there are two other books that come before this one making a total of 6.

I never thought I would have such mixed feelings about a Le Guin novel. Written almost 30 years after the original trilogy, there are subtle differences in the style but these don't impede our imagination until later when suddenly we feel ourselves slipping out of high fantasy mode into a line of ideological notions. Other reviewers have noticed this too. Le Guin's philosophically naive beliefs mar our satisfaction and ultimately rob us of pure literary enjoyment. This is shocking because earlier in her career the author argued forcefully for a key ingredient that makes for successful and profoundly significant fantasy. This genre is capable of portraying the deepest moral tensions. That has been substituted in this novel by a propagandistic end.

I read this book.with trepidation only because I don't like saying goodbye to friends. I fell in love with this series and her writing in my early 20s. I connected with Ged's fierceness and his growth. Tenant was definitely his match. I feel as if I've grown with the characters.

Thus, it is complete. For now anyway. Le Guin claims this is the end of the cycle, that this is Earthsea. But I don't know if I believe her. Maybe I just don't want to believe her. I'm not sure she can stay away, and I'm thinking (hoping) that someday soon we'll see a return to the Archipelago, and the magic of Earthsea.

When I first read A Wizard of Earthsea, not long ago really, I commented on the Balance of the world. A balance that must be carefully maintained. Over the course of this series that balance has been skewed, slowly but surely. In The Other Wind an attempt is made to finally restore that Balance. And it is a good story.

I'm leaving this one with 4 stars, though I think it would also fit the 3.5 that I've left the previous two with. I enjoy these stories, and I'm glad to have read them. But there was always something keeping me from a 5 star rating. I really can't put my finger on it, but I feel it. It's something about the way the story is told. I've tried to put it into words in my other reviews of the series but found that I couldn't. I still can't, but this is my last change to try. The closest I can get is to say that it feels almost impersonal at times, like you're too far above the characters and situations playing out. As I said though, I can't really put what I mean into words, so this isn't entirely accurate. Especially because I feel like I can easily contradict myself by staying that these stories are very personal at times. The stories of Ged, Tenar, Lebannen, Tehanu, Alder, Ogion, Irian, and the rest are personal ones. So what do I mean? I'm really not sure. Maybe I will be able to better articulate it after some future reread. But for now know that I am satisfied with my stay in Earthsea, and hope to return.

WARNING: Review contains spoilers.

I fell in love with the Earthsea books when I came across a used, battered copy of "A Wizard of Earthsea" earlier this summer. Enchanted by a unique fantasy world that manages to be something other than a Tolkein clone, I devoured every book in the original trilogy (the aforementioned "Wizard" as well as "The Tombs of Atuan" and "The Farthest Shore") and found myself moving on to the newer books. "Tehanu" proved to be a disappointment, and "Tales From Earthsea" feels like the author desperately trying to retcon previous books to add a feminist twist. So it was with marked trepidation but wary hope that I moved on to "The Other Wind," hoping it would at least be a decent send-off to the series.

While not quite as wonderful as the original trilogy, I found "The Other Wind" to be a refreshing return to form. It explores other cultures of Earthsea and returns us to the magic that captivated us.

"The Other Wind" introduces us to a new character -- Alder, a sorcerer with a gift for mending things. When his beloved wife dies, he has a startling encounter with her in his dreams... and ever since that fateful night he finds himself visiting the land of the dead, the Dry Land, in his sleep every night, watching as the dead struggle to breach the wall separating living from dead. Desperate to escape these nightmares, he sets off on a journey that leads him first to the legendary Sparrowhawk, who points him toward the king of Earthsea for aid -- a king who is facing his own problems as dragons raid the islands and a hostile nation sends its princess in the hopes that he will wed her. Soon an unlikely band of heroes is assembled -- King Lebannen, the burned girl Tehanu, the dragon-woman Irian, a Kargish princess, a Roke-trained wizard, an island sorcerer, and Alder himself -- and together they set sail for the mage's school on Roke. There, in the Immanent Grove that is the heart of both Earthsea and its magic, perhaps they can repair the balance of Earthsea, and set right what has gone wrong.

After finding myself annoyed by the feminist agenda that seemed to be rammed down my throat in "Tehanu" and "Tales From Earthsea," it was refreshing to find the message understated in this book. In fact, I daresay this book was the message done right -- instead of trying to retroactively twist the history of Earthsea or hammer home how men are terrible, this book instead gives us four fascinating female characters, each strong in their own right and each with their own fears, dreams, and goals. And it was refreshing to find that Tehanu and Irian, who both seemed rather flat and thinly characterized in their introductory tales, get actual personalities in this book.

The writing in this book is several steps up from its predecessors as well. It's as if, during "Tehanu" and "Tales," LeGuin forgot about the magic of her world, but after writing for Earthsea a little longer she regained her stride and the writing style that made the world so enchanting. Once again I found myself sucked in, eager to drink in more about this world, its people, and its culture. It returns to its mythic, almost fairy-tale-esque roots, giving us a story that I hope will remain as much of a classic as "Lord of the Rings."

I was a bit disappointed to find that, once again, the wizards of Earthsea are made out to be the villains, so to speak, in this book. After seeing them do great and heroic things in the previous trilogy, it leaves something of a bad taste in my mouth to see them made responsible for mucking up the balance of the world. Also, the revelation regarding the Dry Land came out of nowhere, and feels like the undoing of a neat bit of mythology regarding the world. Just personal quibbles, however...

A great return to form for LeGuin, and a satisfying conclusion to a wonderful series. I enjoyed this voyage through the land of Earthsea, even if it had some bumpy spots along the way, and I do not regret picking it up.

Finally the Earthsea Cycle draws to a close with The Other Wind. This book builds on the situations created in the third and fourth books in the cycle (The Farthest Shore, and Tehanu, respectively) and their characters, also referencing to the short story "Dragonfly" from the fifth book, Tales From Earthsea. Ged and Tenar, the main characters of the first two (and best) books of the series are only minor characters in this tale, and Ged hardly appears at all; he is also entirely inactive, other than listening to Alder's tale and recommending him to visit King Lebannen in Havnor.

The tale is one of court life and philosophical discussions, abstract changes, unifying concepts, and general inactivity. Hardly anything happens in the book, but then again so much happens; in this way, the book is very similar to Tehanu, which has nearly no activity or development until the closing pages, but it is still a better book than Tehanu as we get plenty of new characters, fine character development, and also a sense of closure to the Earthsea cycle. But be sure to pay close attention to the book as you read, or you'll miss important developments, or just generally get lost; it's not an easy book to read, despite being lumped into the category of young adult fiction (which may have been true of the first two books, but hasn't been the case for a long time).

Le Guin, in an afterword, hints that there are more stories from Earthsea, but in many ways they are not necessary.

I've got mixed feelings about this book.

Spoilers.

Perhaps I would have been more thoroughly satisfied (as I generally am with Le Guin, a wonderful writer) if I had have read `Tehanu' - the only book in the series I've missed. There, I presume, she developed Tenar, her relationship with Ged, and her daughter, and this would have made this book work better for me. Maybe. But without that I found Tenar a tad clichéd, I don't know, just a bit too `happily ever after'. A curious thing with Le Guin: she can be quite preoccupied with gender and sexual relationships, and she's a beacon as a woman writing in a male dominated field (although can you still make this comment post Harry Potter?), yet while I find some of her musings poignant and honest, I find her resolutions in this area to be relatively twee. That's here with storybook Ged and Tenar, Alder and his perfect lost marriage, and, of course, with all the condescending chuckling going on with Lebannen, the princess, and the inevitability of love they amusingly deny (and did I miss something vital in `Tehanu' that explains why all of a sudden it's OK to share your true name with anyone: when did that lose all its power in this world? Makes a mockery of, for example, the sacrifice and trust of giving your name up to be allowed to enter the school on Roke). Seserakh is so clichéd: high-spirited (makes me think of a French ingénue in the one Georgette Heyer I've read, or of Ce'nedra (?) in the Belgariad), Barbie-doll, arrogance just waiting to be turned to aggressively adorable devotion.

Not so long ago I read Le Guin's SF short story collection, `The Birthday of the World'. Hopefully I'll get around to a more thorough review soon, but running with this line, again for so many stories centred on explorations of marriage, love, romance, inter-gender relationships, once couples get over the hurdles to recognising their mutual affection - in whatever form this takes - the story for Le Guin appears to be over. There are plenty of other writers who explore this sort of thing too, with a much wiser acknowledgement that while a moment of realisation and declaration of mutual love is a big deal, it's the beginning of something way more textured and complex than Le Guin tends to offer.

I enjoyed the opening of this book, and was really looking forward to getting back to Earthsea. Trekking along with Alder worked beautifully as a way to open a new story and reintroduce Ged in a new role. And as a friend pointed out to me, there's not too many other heroes that get to have such a satisfactory retirement, particularly in the way he really does step aside. The everyday characters were also given individuality, with an awareness of how little some great events and people impinged on their lives. However, as the story went on I became less engaged - particularly with the dragons. Previously I'd relished the power and mystery Le Guin had evoked around her dragons, but, sorry, here's a couple of girls that can just occasionally turn into dragons. Isn't that nice for them. And that whole cosmos shaking truth - that people seeking an afterlife is the source of all woe - as something that any Karg has just known forever, and it's some sort of surprise to all the wisest, with all their lore and exhaustive study, is just too breathtakingly implausible for all the weight given to it. Seserakh casually drops in the truth of the ages, as if there's never been any interaction between Kargs and people of the archipeligo in the last, what, few millennia. A Karg is one of the Nine chief wizards of Roke: what, is he meant to slap his forehead and go, "Oh, yeah, that's right," after all the exchanges of the changes going on in the land beyond the wall. The `just let go of any yearning for an afterlife' message also fits with the novella of `The Birthday of the World' - Le Guin manipulating her invented worlds to preach a pretty unsubtle message of condemnation to any who believe in life after death.

So Le Guin still has an impressive array of evocative skills, but this story hinged on some plot devices and characters that I couldn't enjoy.

The four Earthsea books that come before this collection of long-ish short stories vary widely in quality, from the fascinating first two books, an okay third book, and a completely unreadable fourth book. The stories in this book are nearly the same, with some that are great and some that are not-so-great (although it's only the introduction that is really terrible). Le Guin spends a fair amount of time repressing her female characters so that she can talk about double standards, hypocrisy, and women's liberation (Earthsea style) in a way that I can't help but feel is a bit contrived, but at least she's dealing with Big Ideas as she weaves her tales of fantasy...

The first story, The Finder, tells the tale of Otter and the women in his life, how he tries to sabotage the ships of pirates, then becomes a magical slave, a wizard, and eventually one of the founding teachers of Roke; his return to his home is interesting, deadly, and the tale has all the charm (and nearly the length) of the original Wizard Of Earthsea, including an epic double double-cross. Great!

"Darkrose And Diamond" is an interesting love story about a young wizard and a witch's daughter. It's light, and unexpected, and quite charming.

"The Bones Of The Earth" is a less satisfying tale, as it deals a lot with a wizard wandering around in the forest, looking after his chores, thinking about life... and averting an earthquake.

"On The High Marsh" is an much better tale; it starts off very pastoral and pedestrian, but eventually becomes terrifyingly intense... somehow. Real magic in this tale.

"Dragonfly" is another long-ish tale, this time about a mysterious woman who wears a man's clothing, Yentl-like, to enter the school on Roke. Amazing things occur when this happens that tie it in (somehow) with the ending of Tehanu! The tale introduces interesting new characters, it's not bad.

At the end of the book is some sort of "Description of Earthsea" appendix, which is a bit boring to read through, as it talks about the history, languages and cultures of Earthsea. It's decent as reference material, although anyone who's read the five books so far would have been able to piece together on their own most of what is contained here; one thing that is remarkable, though, is how Le Guin writes that the runes of Earthsea resemble Chinese ideograms, referencing for the first time in an Earthsea book anything from our own world.

A nice book, better even than The Farthest Shore, in parts nearly as interesting as A Wizard Of Earthsea or The Tombs of Atuan.

First things first: I adore Ursula Le Guin's work. I've enjoyed every book I've read of hers so far, and I usually read them shortly after purchasing because I can't wait to find out where her imagination will take me next. The latter point explains why I was shocked when I couldn't recall a thing about Tales From Earthsea, even though I swore I'd read it a couple years ago. Now I have, and I can say with confidence that it's found a place in my heart and bookshelf next to Le Guin's full-length novels.

Tales From Earthsea expands the Earthsea universe with five short stories taking place before and in between Le Guin's previously written novels. Two novellas bookend the collection: "The Finder," which recounts the life of the mage Medra, including his role in the founding of the prestigious wizardry school on Roke Island; and "Dragonfly," where the eponymous heroine defies the long-held "Rule of Roke" (prohibiting women from receiving formal training on magic) while discovering her true identity. The other three stories explore a young man's desire to follow his heart instead of others' expectations ("Darkrose and Diamond") and bring back beloved characters such as the wizard Ged ("On The High Marsh") and his first mentor Ogion ("The Bones of the Earth"). Finally, "A Description of Earthsea" is Le Guin's equivalent to Tolkein's Middle-Earth appendices, presenting some of the author's world-building and history of the lands she's so vividly created.

Overall, I enjoyed Tales From Earthsea, though two of its tales touched me more deeply than I would have ever imagined. I really connected with Medra in "The Finder," as he evolved from a vengeful untrained boy-wizard to a courageous, empathetic man who respected and feared his gift. When Medra was in danger, I was terrified for him; and when the darkness and suffering he endured had broken him down to his state in the final "chapter," my heart wept for him. "On The High Marsh" evoked a similar reaction from me with Otak / Irioth. He comes across as kindly yet deeply troubled at first, but it's not until late in the story that I understood his discreet search for self-redemption and prayed for his success. The only tale that didn't resonate with me was "The Bones of the Earth." It bored me after a few pages, though in hindsight I've had a hard time pinpointing why.

What I love most about Le Guin's work, though, is her distinctive writing style. Graceful yet clear, concise yet at times abstract, it strikes a delicate balance between imagery, wisdom, and the soul. While writing short stories requires a different knack than writing novels, the prose in Tales From Earthsea doesn't suffer from the shorter length or timespan covered or the snappy pacing. It's similar to the ease Le Guin shows when switching between fantasy and science fiction - and witnessing such consistency from a versatile writer is a rare delight.

And when an author you love continues to surprise you each time - or spark possible short story ideas for your own work (*raises her hand high*) - you know they're a master of their craft. Tales From Earthsea is yet another jewel to add to Le Guin's writing crown. She offers new glimpses into the people, settings, and conflicts of Earthsea, while maintaining the spirit that makes this beguiling universe - and Le Guin's writing in general - so unique and beautiful. Long-time "visitors" of Earthsea will relish this volume and its insights. For newbies, however, I recommend reading the first four Earthsea books (A Wizard of Earthsea, The Tombs of Atuan, The Farthest Shore, and Tehanu) before reading Tales From Earthsea because of the returning characters and concepts from the earlier novels.

NOTE: The Studio Ghibli / Goro Miyazaki film "Tales From Earthsea" isn't based on the book Tales From Earthsea. Instead, it's loosely adapted from Ursula Le Guin's third Earthsea novel The Farthest Shore and contains elements and characters from other Earthsea novels.

I suppose there was a real symmetry to my feelings about these five stories: I enjoyed the middle three, and relished the first as much as I was disappointed by the last.

Spoilers.

The opening story, `The Finder', is set deep in Earthsea's past, and Le Guin does a great job of painting nobility amongst nightmare fear, corruption, and petty robber-Lords.

As with most of her romance plots, I found `Darkrose and Diamond' a bit twee, and with Darkrose I never quite get Diamond's insistence on sacrifice - why wizardry is seen to demand chastity and misogyny, even by seemingly wise, respectable characters who know women can do magic (Ged's own teacher Ogion, we find, for example, was taught magic by a man who's teacher was a woman). Le Guin does address this in the interesting afterword `Description of Earthsea', saying that, "The belief that a wizard must be celibate was unquestioned for so many centuries that it probably came to be a psychological fact." Moreover the central relationship breakup seems more like a silly misunderstanding, a spat, so I lost some of the sense of the grandeur of the reconciliation. Still, there are pleasures to be had in the way Le Guin ably sets up the characters and sets the scenes.

`The Bones of the Earth' and `On the High Marshes' are as good as anything else in the Earthsea mythos (and that means pretty damn) at setting apart her wizards as special - power isn't cheap, and it changes who you are, at best purifying you, setting you apart from the blind grasping of the every day. Probably there's a Ph.D. out there somewhere detailing Le Guin's presentation of the peasantry: I suspect for the most part they're nasty, bigoted and childish, with the occasional utter paragon thrown in.

`Dragonfly'. Ugh. And from Le Guin, of all people. It just feels so daydreamy - like a little boy, "And just when the bad guy was about to get me, I used my (inexplicable, ex-nihilo) super-special powers and punched him right over the street." Like any of those inferior fantasies where the hero with appalling predictability finds his amazing fighting/wizarding talent from nowhere just at the last possible minute. So on p. 261 the baddie says to our lone girl heroine (who until now has exhibited no powers, nothing to warrant her special treatment except a few wizards feeling there's something odd there), "Learn your place, woman." Booo. This is so in your face panto. And then two pages later - stone me if just at the critical moment she doesn't just turn out to be A DRAGON who incinerates uberbaddie in a heartbeat. Yaay! Phew, that was lucky. One of the greatest merits of Earthsea over many other fantasy worlds is the way she paints the cost of wizardry, so it's not just a nifty daydream trick, "Hey, look at me, I can fly - wheeee!" But then with the same abandon that, say, David Eddings throws immortality out to anyone, Le Guin just throws in some grrrl power to Tehanu and Irian - who just get to slip into `God' mode, bam. How do you admire that? Might as well admire someone for being tall or whatever. In our own world the story of how women reformers did carve out suffrage and greater respect and equality *without* miraculous superpowers is a world more impressive.

Where is the wisdom - that the power that some men crave and squabble over actually reduces them - and the trust and community that some women have is of greater value that some of these guys will never actually even comprehend. You haven't defeated misogyny by becoming a dragon, you've just become a bigger man. You haven't challenged the system, you've just confirmed it. What's the lesson here? You've moved from, 'Women are essentially contemptible,' to, 'Women are essentially contemptible. There are only maybe one or two exceptions in each generation - because they are not *merely* women, but also badass dragons.' Reminds me of the doublethink in more openly misogynist times that bizarrely threw up female monarchs, so Spensor's Faery Queen (cf. Elizabeth), or Victoria, are female *and* objects of worship, sure, but seen as a different species to the women you actually live with. It's very much in line with criticisms of Tolkien's women only being Goddesses (Eowyn aside), in an entirely different category to, say, Tolkien's own wife. Le Guin can be so insightful and counter-cultural, so maybe it hurts me all the more when she, of all people, is the opposite. As here and in the more dragony bits of The Other Wind. Thank goodness - from the reviews - I've never read Tehanu.

"Tales from Earthsea" verifies why Ursula K. LeGuin is one of the best writers around -- of fantasy, science fiction, or any genre.

Simply put, it has wonderful stories that ring true, yet have mythical elements -- the people are fully real, with faults, and make mistakes, yet do remarkable, visionary things in various ways -- from the quotidian to the sublime.

This book has three new stories and two reprints; the reprints ("Darkrose and Diamond" and "Dragonfly") are very good stories, and I enjoyed re-reading them very much. The first is a romance; even people who've never read an Earthsea novel will understand it. The second is about gifts denied, and powers lost -- along with love, redeemed in a rather unusual way. (Love in Ms. LeGuin's books or stories is almost always understated. The overt romance of "Darkrose and Diamond" is rare, but very welcome.) I'm not sure the latter story will be much understood without reading the first three books of the Earthsea trilogy, but you don't necessarily need to read "Tehanu" (the fourth book of Earthsea, inaccurately titled "The Last Book of Earthsea," as Ms. LeGuin wryly points out in her preface to this book), although you will enjoy that book as well if you enjoyed either of these two stories.

The remaining three stories ("The Finder," "The Bones of the Earth," "On the High Marsh") are all about the redeeming power of the human spirit. Finding friendship when it's not expected -- Otter, the hero of "The Finder," finds a true friend while he's temporarily enslaved (she helps get him out and away), Dulse, the wizard of Re Albi, finds a friend in his apprentice-wizard, Ogion (the later first teacher of Ged/Sparrowhawk, Archmage of Roke during the latter two books of the Earthsea trilogy) when wizards rarely get along (especially in such close proximity), and Irioth the wizard finds love and healing with the cheesemaker Gift (wizards also rarely, if ever, love women and don't seem to ever profess physical love for men, either; they believe being celibate helps their powers, which is something Irian in "Dragonfly" is challenging; wizards, for the most part, do not believe that women's magic is a strong as men's, which is of course ridiculous) after he'd left Roke due to extreme mental and physical torment (some brought on by his own doing, some not).

Ms. LeGuin's work is a triumph because of how human these people are. They have to make powerful, difficult choices; Diamond has to leave his father (who wants him to be a mage, rather than a musician) and only see his mother rarely because he must follow his heart and love Darkrose (while performing his music). Irian is hot-tempered, irritable, difficult, and extremely talented; her question, "Why can't women be mages?" goes to the heart of the hypocrisy of Roke, something the mages there for the most part would rather not confront. (The status quo is always easier to defend than the unknown, even when the status quo is wrong.) Dulse's dilemma is more poignant; save himself, or save his island with his friend Ogion's help? (Many would choose to save themselves and later rationalize it. Dulse isn't made that way.) Irioth's problem is more fundamental; he believes he's harmed himself by the use of magic, and that he's harmed others, and that he must make amends. (Finding love along the way with an extraordinary woman was never in his plans. And Gift doesn't think herself remarkable; that, too, is one of Ms. LeGuin's strengths, how she shows that "ordinary" people are anything but.) And Otter, in "The Finder," finds a friend at his time of greatest need, but can't keep her as she's dying; how he memorializes her through living his life is extraordinarily powerful, yet quietly drawn.

To put it bluntly, there isn't a better writer on the planet when she's on than Ms. LeGuin. There just isn't.

Everyone should read this book. Every single last one.

Five-stars plus, with the highest recommendation possible.

Barb Caffrey

Tales from Earthsea is the perfect way to get back into the Earthsea world. I originally thought this was a new book about Ged and company, however, this book contains a collection of shorter stories not revolving directly around the same characters from the first books.

The first and last stories are longer than the others and my favorites of the bunch. Le Guin really excels at storytelling when she has the ability to flesh out her characters over a longer period of time. These two stories really add the most to the world of Earthsea and are relevant to the other Earthsea books. In fact, they flesh out and provide more detail about Roke Island and the school there.

The shorter stories in the middle tend to be the weaker of the bunch, and don't add a lot to the world of Earthsea, but still make for an enjoyable read. They are fun stories that take place in the Earthsea world, but don't necessarily have the complexity and depth of her other Earthsea books (and the other more fleshed out stories in this book). I really don't think that this makes for a terrible book (as some people here seem to be very disappointed) as they are still entertaining.

If you are a newcomer to the Earthsea books, I would not recommend this as an introduction. You should definitely begin with A Wizard of Earthsea (the first book of the series). In addition, if you plan to read all the Earthsea books, I recommend reading them in order. Don't skip to this one if you haven't read at least the first 4 books yet as there are a couple of spoiler-like moments in a couple of the stories.

To sum up, I would rate the first and last stories as 5 stars and the middle stories as 3 stars. If you are already familiar with the Earthsea books, I recommend this book as a way to enjoy a bit of light reading in the same world. Just be aware that some of the stories are not as rich and detailed as previous books in the series. However, the first and the last stories do add some nice details and answer some questions you may have had in the back of your mind about some of the events in the other books.

Like all of Ursula LeGuin's novels--and especially her Earthsea series, which the store justly calls one of the two great fantasy series of the twentieth century (along with The Lord of the Rings)--this wonderful short novel is about something far more than the magic wielded by her characters or the dragons who fly on that other wind. Like all of the Earthsea stories (which include five novels and a collection of novellas), this book appears to be about Ged, the archmage who is known by his common name, Sparrowhawk; yet like all but the first, this book is actually focused on the journey of another character entirely. Alder, a simple village spellcaster, has lost his beloved wife. In his grief and against his will, he has found himself searching for her across the wall that marks the boundry between the living and the dead--the wall that only wizards can cross. In his struggles to come to peace, he journeys to Ged, as do Tehanu, a scarred young woman, and Tenar, the one-time priestess whom Ged rescued long ago and who has been attempting to live happily ever after. Also along for the ride is Lebannen, the young king, who is attempting to live up to the promise of his long-prophesied assumption of the throne. There are small moments of beauty and great moments of the sublime. Throughout, LeGuin explores the human fascination with and fear of death; she holds it up and looks at its different facets in the light like an archeologist studying the various sides of an ancient amulet.

This is not, I think, a young person's novel--the first three Earthsea books fill that niche brilliantly. Nor is it a good place to enter the series, not because the book itself lack in anything, but without the previous volumes, it is difficult to appreciate the richness of the world this modern master novelist has created. Most speculative fiction lives and dies on it's explorations of the motifs of the genre. LeGuin's best novels--and this is one of them--stand on their own as works of literary art and explorations of the human condition.

The Earthsea tales, from the very beginning, have always been different from the average fantasy, focusing far more on individual character and actions than on grand battles, and with a dark overtone, dealing with very adult themes of the balance of nature, life after death, love and ambition. The Other Wind is no exception. Still told with Le Guin's sparse but finely drawn prose, this books re-unites almost all of the major characters from the earlier books along with some interesting new ones to deal with the problem of the dead trying to tear down the wall that separates them from the living. And the strength of this book lies directly in this characterization, as we find that the characters from earlier books have changed, sometimes radically, such as Ged, who is no longer arch-mage but rather a quietly satisfied farmer, and the new characters have their own loves, doubts, uncertainties, and inner strengths. The reader will find it easy to empathize with these characters, as all correspond with real people in a very real world.
The plot line is rather sparse, with little action and a lack of strong tension or great dramatic moments. This is far more a 'thinking' book, both about the world of Earthsea, with its evocation of Names and history, wizards and dragons, kings and long-ago promises, and its relation to the 'real' world that the reader inhabits.
By the end of this book, Le Guin has managed to tie up many of the loose ends of the Earthsea world, and provides a very satisfying, if apparently irrevocable, conclusion. The world she has created has been made richer by this final volume. Those who have never entered this wonderful world now have a very complete set of works with which to fall in love with, be captivated and charmed by, and old Earthsea fans will not be disappointed here, even as Le Guin's themes force each reader to examine their own place in the world, their own balance with nature and society.

This book is my favorite of all the Earthsea books. It seems that Le Guinn just gets better and better with each book. Before you continue read this book, it is important to read all the Earthsea books up to this point, including the "Tales from Earthsea" book of short stories. This book completes the story arc that began with "Tehanu" and joins together the threads of "Tehanu" and the short story "Dragonfly" from "Tales from Earthsea."

I don't want to give away anything about the plot, but if you liked "Tehanu" and you enjoyed the short stories of "Tales from Earthsea" you owe it to yourself to find out how the stories wrap up and how the tales intertwine. This is beautifully written in Le Guinn's flowing and elegant style and was hard to put down. Hands down, this was my favorite Earthsea book of all of them. It's not to be missed and I only hope she writes more.

I know that many people didn't care for this particular book because it didn't have a lot of action. But I didn't read the Earthsea book for big action fantasy scenes. I think all the books in the series are (as another reviewer put it) "thinking books." I actually appreciate books that don't spell out every little thing for you and allow your imagination to fill in the gaps.

If you are new to Earthsea, skip this one (for now) and go pick up "A Wizard of Earthsea." You will not be disappointed.

Many authors are tempted to return to their early works in their later years. For most authors, this is a mistake. Not so with this set of five stories placed in the world of Le Guin's marvelous Earthsea. Each story provides a new illumination into what Earthsea is, its history, and the people that lived and loved within it.
The first story, "The Finder", is the longest, actually a novella, and for my money the best of the set. Here we find ourselves far back in the history of Earthsea, when wizard fought wizard as a matter of course, when magical knowledge was jealously guarded, when the average non-magical person lived in fear of what magic would visit them next. Otter, a half-trained wizard with a powerful skill for 'finding' whatever he looks for, falls on the receiving end of the worst of this mis-use of magic, forced to try and find mercury, the King of all materials, for a half-crazed older wizard. How he escapes from this imprisonment, and his search for a place where magic is taught freely, forms the bulk of this story, ending with his founding of the School of Wizards on Roke. In this story we find the same evocation of the magical, of balance between man and nature, of ambition tempered by internal morality, that so graced the original trilogy.
The second story, "Darkness and Diamond", has appeared elsewhere previously, but it deserves a second reading, being a beautifully told love story of a boy with conflicted desires between his wizardly talent and its concomitant requirement of chastity, and his love of music and a girl who shares his passions. A fine portrait of what is important in the business of living.
The third and fourth stories, "The Bones of the Earth" and "On the High Marsh", are comparatively minor stories, that never the less do a good job of filling in some of the history of Ged, showing his first teacher in his greatest wizardly act, and a mature Ged who can forgive and help heal a former Arch-mage.
The last story, "Dragonfly", has also appeared elsewhere, but it is a must read before tackling the latest Earthsea novel, The Other Wind. This is story that I think many fans of the series object to, as it details the heretical idea that women both can and should wield magical powers, that their power, based on the Old Powers, is just as valid as the complex hierarchy of talents embodied by the School of Wizards. Is this a change from the world of the first three novels? Certainly, but I think it is a change for the better, more fitting with the overall theme of balance that pervades the entire Earthsea universe. As Le Guin herself states in the forward, it has been a long time since the first books were written, and history and people move on, grow and develop, and this story exemplifies this very well.
For fans of the originals, this is a must book. For those who have never been charmed and captivated by Earthsea, now is the time to read the series in its glorious whole.

Relatively late in life, LeGuin has returned to the fictional universes that made her famous; the Hainish future history that is the background to her recent novel The Telling, and now a new Earthsea fantasy novel. The Other Wind is a very ambitious novel and contains some fine writing but is not of the same quality as the previous Earthsea books.
The story is set some years after the events in Tehanu, the previous Earthsea book, and is partially an effort to finish a plot line started in that book. In The Other Wind, several events are threatening the foundations of Earthsea. The barriers between the living and the dead are in danger of breaking down. The implicit truce between humans and dragons has frayed and dragons threaten the human occupied islands. The political structure of Earthsea is in flux with the consolidation of the reign of the King over the central archipelago and a formation of a new central monarchy in the Kargish archipelago. The basis of this problem is rooted in events which date to the beginnings of Earthsea and the discovery/invention of magic. As with the other Earthsea books, an important theme is the serious adverse consequences of using human magic to distort the natural world; an allegory of human exploitation of technology to master nature. The scope of the book and the ambitious nature of theme are part of the reason that The Other Wind is not as satisfying as the prior Earthsea books. The prior Earthsea books had a single central character and some type of quest in each volume. This book has a series of equally important characters worthy of a thick 19th century novel. The book is relatively short, which doesn't allow satisfactory development of some characters. The plot is complex and at times seems mechanical because of the rapid and terse manner in which events unfold. A longer, more complex book would really be necessary to do justice to the themes and characters in The Other Wind. The quality of writing is good but uneven. Some of it is very good, some merely good. The concluding sections are powerful.
The concluding sections may feel familiar to some readers. Part of it deals with the liberation of the dead from a form of limbo. This is strikingly similar to events in Philip Pullman's recent book, The Amber Spyglass. LeGuin and Pullman both deal with the relationship of man to the natural world and the ambiguous effects of science/magic. It is interesting that both have arrived at a similar fictional solution to the problem of depicting the problems inherent in human efforts to understand and control the natural world.