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[risluvsearth]

Ok. Here's my hot take: dragons are mistreated in this series. Imagine being taken down by a magic man after living through history. I know LeGuin does this to show how powerful Ged is, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that Dragons were treated a little nicer. Maybe they'd be willing to talk to people if they weren't always trying to kill and/or ride them. They've lived long enough to develop mental illness. I think they deserve a little more sovereignty.

The Age of Dragons

Almost universally in fiction -- traditional mythology and modern fantasy -- dragons are defined by two things: age and power. These two are often linked together in a sort of linear relationship, i.e. older dragons are also more powerful, either physically or magically. In Ursula Le Guin's The Farthest Shore we see this same relationship played out on a cultural level among the dragons, or at least we do at first. In how she characterizes dragons, it highlights the strengths and weaknesses of man in quite a beautiful way.

When Ged and Arren make their trip down the Dragon's Run, the size of dragons they encounter becomes larger and larger, until at last they meet Orm Embar, whose sheer size makes Arren realize "how small a thing a man is." I think it is by design that we see all interactions with dragons through Arren's eyes in this book, since he can't comprehend their speech, yet it still fills him with awe and reverence. Here too we see the crucial relationship dragons have with their language. Without it, they are literally winged beasts, cannibals who cannot help but feast upon their dead -- a chilling parallel to humans; without language, what else separates us from beasts?

But this power, this incredible scale, is subverted near the end of the book. In Orm Embar we saw power and age as one, but [SPOILERS] the so-called "greatest" dragon dies like any mortal creature by the hand of one man. After Ged and Arren's quest is complete, however, we see one more dragon, the very oldest of their kind: Kalessin. This iron drake is old, so old its sides are "scored and scarred" and "the long teeth yellowed and blunt." Arren does not cower in awe or fear at Kalessin, and just looks into his eye, where he describes "the mourning of the world was deep in it." So here we see the price of age, the cornerstone of dragon culture. The relationship is not linear; they grow, become powerful, and they too wane like men, reduced to scars and blunted teeth and memories.

Dragons in Earthsea are deeply, fascinatingly human, which makes sense in world, but really helps drive home the themes of The Farthest Shore. We see a culture upheld as something vast, unknowable, and infinitely powerful reduced to cannibalism and ruin. Those believed to be its oldest and wisest sit by, the weight of their memories dragging them down. The writing is subtle and leaves much to the imagination, like much of Le Guin's work, and I won't pretend to make some grand point here. I just really appreciate how she is able to humanize something so wonderful and quintessentially fantasy without losing any of the magnificence of a dragon.

And if you're reading this post when it goes up, Happy Thanksgiving!

[risluvsearth]

Losing words seems like it could be the result of state-sanctioned cultural violence. The way you describe how families lost the connection they had to magic sounds like forced assimilation -- I don't think this is something that would happen willingly. Was magic so commonplace that it was only thought of as a second language? I suppose this could also be similar to how Spanish doesn't get passed down through generations because a couple aunties got lazy. It makes it hard to connect to a culture when you have to learn the language later in your adult life.

Losing Words

The process of “losing words” is significant because it is tied to changes in values, traditions, and the surrounding world. It’s a negative phenomenon in nearly all cases because words also hold knowledge. To lose words is to lose the knowledge of those words, even without being aware of it. This makes people so unhappy because there’s still memory and traces of the knowledge but once the words are gone, a distance is established that places those ideas in categories history and myth. The words become part of “past” rather than a part of a living culture. In Earthsea we see this with people who have forgotten many words and as a result lose their connections to magic. The exact reason for the change isn’t known but the people sense the change itself. The practices and skills they used to rely on gradually fade as they lose the words needed for them. We see this in real life too with dying languages. Every language has its own set of these important words that have a cultural significance shaped by the traditions and experiences of its speakers. These are the kinds of words that have no direct translation in other languages. When fewer people learn and use a language, those meanings and the words for them exponentially decrease as the number of speakers decrease. Many power dynamics and other factors can cause this to happen, but in recent years this process has been accelerated. With so much access to information, there’s more pressure for people to speak more common languages to keep up with demands in education, work, etc. If a person’s native language is localized and only spoken by a small group to begin with, they become less and less likely to pass on that language to the next generations. While the process of losing words happens naturally over time, voluntarily (or often involuntarily) giving up a language in favor of another accelerates the shifts that result, which is what causes it to be harmful. A lot of languages today are only used by older groups which is concerning in terms of preserving those languages. Especially in the cases of nonwritten languages, where oral history and knowledge is integral, losing the ability to understand the names and ideas from those words permanently impacts how that community functions. 

[risluvsearth]

dragons <3

Dragons are superior to humans, but they have a bit of an attitude. I’d imagine that this comes from years of watching humans fight wars among themselves and the hapless treatment of nature. The fact that dragons can speak (better than most people), yet they choose to only speak to Dragonlords reminds me of no-contact tribes that live within the rainforests of South America. After watching other tribes suffer after contact with Western nations (usually private oil companies or investors), some cultures choose to enforce a strict contact ban, killing anyone who is not part of the tribe that tries to enter. The lifespan of dragons makes me think that they’ve lived to see horrors beyond their own comprehension, creating a strong distrust for humankind. It seems that the theme of earning trust is prevalent once again.

[risluvsearth]

I kinda forgot silk came from worms. Humans really exploit anything, don't we? There are lots of benefits to having a primary output, but it's very risky and not a super sustainable economy. If silk is a means of livelihood for these empires, then I can see how it gained such prominence (reverence even?) among elites.

Silky Smooth Social Strata

Silk! You know it, you love it, you touch it and go, "oooooh, soft."

This weird wacky worm byproduct has captivated the minds of historical juggernauts and fantasy authors alike, to the point that it is almost a trope in and of itself to have silk be the token "luxury good that means someone is rich and powerful" in a story. But this is not without good reason.

Historically, silk was the warp and weft of the social fabric for much of the world for centuries, if not millennia! For a fascinating look into how silk dominated many societies, look no further than Palmyra. Who? Oh come on, you know Palmyra -- Queen Zenobia, fancy tombs -- that Palmyra? Whatever, point is that according to Cynthia Finlayson, cultural archeologist for BYU, silk elevated "the status of women" in the kingdom to the point of "matriarchy," almost exclusively due to "the influence of the silk trade upon their lives" (Finlayson, The Women of Palmyra, 4). That alone would be incredibly unique, but their connection to silk even transcended death! Palmyran women would be buried and mummified in silks during elaborate funerary rights, which allows us such a thorough look at their lives even today, nearly 2000 years later.

It is no small wonder, then, that silk continues to fascinate and motivate societies that exist only in the annals of fantasy. In Ursula Le Guin's The Farthest Shore, magical buddies Ged and Arren visit the decrepit down of Lorbanery (side note, is it pronounced Lorbanery or Lorbanery?), a settlement and indeed whole island famed for its silks. Quite literally the lives of every person on the island seem irrevocably tied to silk, to the point of stagnation when their precious dyed fabric suddenly loses its luster. Unlike any other place we've seen in any of the Earthsea books, here we find a people utterly dominated by their work.

Unfortunately, such reliance can easily spiral into dependency. Whether it's Palmyra or Lorbanery, staking your existence on the stable trade of a most fragile fabric is inherently risky. That, then, is the appeal of silk in stories, the notion that so small a worm could topple empires.

Or maybe we just like shiny smooth fabrics!

[risluvsearth]

I wonder to what extent craftsmanship played in determining social status. I'd imagine that those more talented at embroidery and weaving were viewed as more valuable, simply because their product was more desired.

Women Empowered by Silk

After reading Finlayson’s “The Women of Palmyra,” it was clear that vital to the significance of Palmyra was the fact that “in these early eras, no one merchant or caravan enterprise was seemingly able to transverse the complete length of the Silk Road from East to West” (Finlayson, 2, footnote 1). Palmyra was a necessary stop on the Silk Road, where items such as silk were “sold, resold, or traded, and then moved forward along a route deemed the safest by the caravan leader” (Finlayson, 2, footnote 1). In many cases the women of Palmyra might have been responsible for adding embroidered designs to the silk to increase their value (6).

Women played central roles throughout the city, including even ruling, and “through carefully orchestrated marriages guaranteed wealth and access to trade routes through clan alliances” (4). And they created silk funerary headdresses. 

Due to the vital role silk played in Palmyra, women were made into integral parts of the community, improving the product, enabling trade, and utilizing silk in the funeral practices. Perhaps this is evidence that if a community is focused on one output, gender discrimination lessens because both men and women are needed to fulfill the task?

[risluvsearth]

Silk is a symbol of status. Since it was viewed as an “exotic good” and only the bravest of entrepreneurs were willing to face the dangerous routes leading to it, only the elite had access to it (this includes the dead elite, which I THINK really shows where there priorities were if they’re treating some bones better than their poor people). As techniques for working with silk became more and more complex, weaving has since become an important part of the culture’s history. It’s interesting how historians are able to witness changes in the political atmosphere through embroidery trends. Following the development of techniques in textile production by region also shows communication pathways between countries, which is pretty significant.

[risluvsearth]

Is anyone really “the best” at exploiting nature? I’m not sure, but I do know that industrialization is making it a global competition to find out. I think Le Guin does a good job at conveying the different types of economies and how they behave in differemt cultures. Specialization is a result of no other options, in my opinion.

Renowned Places

It’s interesting to look at how places become known for one specific thing since we see this pattern in fictional stories and the real world. Particularly before the Industrial Revolution, cities and regions became well known as “the best” when it comes to producing a specific item. One factor is resources: both what is easily accessed and most abundant. A group of people that has access to the best wheat seeds and good soil, for example, might become especially skilled at making bread. Cultural factors are also important because what people value and prioritize is integral to determining the things that they create. If a group of people has a significant connection to a certain material or concept, they would probably invest time and craftsmanship into things related to it. Places that become known for one specific thing are also heavily affected by what limitations exist for that population. If people have access to few or a limited variety of options/materials, it’s easiest to just become very specialized in what has the fewest limitations. An example could be that in some harsh climate plant agriculture is difficult so a group of people become known for their animal agriculture and its products (eg foods, wool/textiles, etc).

[risluvsearth]

I think capitalism is the enemy, but I agree that there is something unifying about a community coming together to mine/process/look at a locally-occurring mineral. If it weren't for the mass exploitation of Earth's resources, I'd probably find it heart-warming. Economies that are dependent on a primary export are much more susceptible to fluctuations in the global economy; Iraq went through this when the price of oil dropped at the beginning of the pandemic. Anyway, nice post! You offer a nice perspective!!

Lorbanery and Factory Towns

Viewing Lorbanery as a place defined by its product, silk, it reflects the idea of a factory town. Usually small towns built to house employees and their families, factory towns, and Lorbanery, possess a distinct culture born from that shared occupation. When an entire town is focused on one job, and the success of all depends on everyone working hard and collaborating, it seems like there is a greater sense of community. Additionally, there is a greater pressure to perform well and work hard. The citizens of Lorbanery accordingly emphasize that “Honest folk live here and do honest work” (137). 

I looked into the town of Bagdad, Arizona as one of the two remaining company towns in the state. It’s known for copper. I’ve never visited, but to all appearances it looks like the kind of tight-knit community you would expect. The town is owned by Freeport-McMoRan, and as a result enjoys amenities free for the public such as a golf course and gym. The town is currently thriving, but not all company towns are as lucky.

There is a reason there aren’t many company towns around anymore. Although the citizens of Lorbanery are quick to conclude that “the luck’s run out” (122), the truth is they are not alone in their situation. Factory towns often have the ever present danger of becoming ghost towns because everyone in it is tied to one industry. If progress makes the product no longer relevant, the town loses its purpose.

Lorbanery is in a similar crisis. “Why don’t the ships come?” (138) is the constant question. Demand for their silk has slacked, at the same time as their loss of magic has made the quality of the product less. Or maybe the ships don’t come because the silk has lost its appeal. Either way, the town has let silk production define them to an extreme. When they no longer need to produce silk, they don’t do anything. Despite the town not doing as well as it once did, no one seems to be doing anything about it. Instead they just blame each other and reminisce about the good old days. 

[risluvsearth]

Ris tries to connect fantasy to sustainability: part 100000000

Places of commerce and scales of economy are tools created by capitalists to allow for extreme exploitation of areas with concentrations of “valuable” resources; in my experience with sustainability, this is usually something that can be commodified: water, oil, uranium, copper, gold, etc. Something in common with all of these is that they demand invasive extractive processes in order to obtain them. As a result, local economies become dependent on the mining of that certain resource: this trend is known as the resource curse and is most common in developing nations, or the global South. Other economic centers that import good rather than mining them tend to create very dense, unsightly places that may attract a lot of tourism, but aren’t very suitable for daily life — these are central business districts (CBDs). CBDs are common in urban areas and drastically control the shape the city; many urban settlements follow the same pattern of concentric rings with the CBD at the center and the suburbia on the fringe. This is indicitive of how our society sees fit the distribution of goods and services. This is also unrelated, but managerial jobs tend to be concentrated on the suburban fringe. There are direct correlations between neighborhoods and race.

[risluvsearth]

royal murder: still murder?

Whenever anyone is willing to sacrifice themselves for loyalty, devotion, or faith, I can’t help but wonder if they are maybe a little brainwashed. In conjunction with the staging/choreographing of political dramas, the ego seems to really have taken ahold of the Royal Graves at Ur. Considering that these are seen as “snapshots of the past”, it’s clear that even in death, wealth and fame make you better than everyone else — I fear we will never be from the death grip of capitalism (131). Scholars describe this system of leadership as “sinister” and “menacing” (133). Everything is done to make the God King seem godly and royal, so critical thought tells me that everyone who wasn’t both of those things had a rough life. I think this is most easily backed up by the “brutal military discipline and its attendant drum-head courts, frog marches and public floggings” (137).

The physical landscape of the Royal Cemetery is meant to accommodate huge fluxes of people rushing to worship the dead God King (how much of a god can a dead man be, by the way?). The scale alone would inspire awe into whoever looked at it and make them wonder what had to be done to be buried in such a glorious manner, accompanied by so many of your own “willing” people. Also, forcing people to die for your cause — as the king called Kabaka pushed the state of Buganda to do “for the health of the kingdom” — just seems like murder.

[risluvsearth]

If there exists a means of bringing pain to people in order to turn them into servants, it is not shocking to me that poor people expect to live poor quality lives. I am also reminded of the treatment of young girls, who's families tried to pass them off as the High Priestess, despite being born on a different day. People who are deemed worthy by the Kargs receive ideal treatment, whereas everyone else can kick rocks.

The Tombs of Atuan

A lot of aspects of the Kargad Empire were fascinating, but one thing that caught me off guard as I was reading The Tombs of Atuan was the development of The Kargs. In Wizard of Earthsea, they didn’t appear much (if at all, can’t confirm) after their failed invasion of Gont, but the characteristics I got from their presence was that they were a large, fierce, and advanced people, and their home, being a fearsome empire, likely reflected this. I was surprised to find that their empire is not as well put together as I was expecting. As the priestesses and wardens of the tomb journeyed through the kingdom to find their reborn priestess, we get to see the kingdom outside of the walls, and it seems very rural and decentralized. Atuan’s largest city, I believe, Tenacbah, is “No more than a flea to a cow” when compared to Awabath, having “ten hundred houses” (Le Guin, 14). The rest of the island is populated by small towns and villages in the hill country, and further past that, the poor folk live “In lonely huts in the valleys of the hills,” who, being so poor, “kept no count of days and scarce knew how to tell the turn of time” (15), so education must not reach many in Atuan.

Even the high priestess, as we later read, would be expected to “Fetch water in the summer when the wells ran low” (19), an arduous task that I wouldn’t think royalty would be doing. Beyond that, though, I’m surprised that the high priestess would have to worry at all about not having water, and that Atuan wouldn’t have some sort of irrigation system to provide water more efficiently. All of these things just surprised me, as someone who believed the Kargad Empire to be more advanced. This may only be Atuan, but if that’s the case, why is the homeland of their high priestess not as advanced as the rest of the empire?

[risluvsearth]

I honestly forgot that we were reading from the perspective from someone living in a Kargish community because of how mundane and non-barbaric it sounded. There was no mention of slaves, though I think the exploitation of the one true High Priestess is indicative of what they thing of those who provide services for them.

The Tombs of Atuan

What we learn about the Kargish land during these chapters - which is although still on the periphery - are vital details that expand upon our knowledge of the land from The Wizard of Earthsea. Specifically, I am interested in the Place in the Kargish Empire in which there was “a couple hundred people…(with) many buildings…the guards’ barracks and many slaves’ huts, the storehouses and sheep pens and goats pens and farm buildings” (14). I am interested in this description as it relates to our understanding of the Kargs as being related to vikings. On one hand, the mention of slaves, sheep, and goats reinforce the viking qualities of the Kargs. These are people and animals that the vikings would be interested in trading, selling, and accumulating. It also alludes to the fact that the Kargs acquired these people and animals through the pillaging of other villages. There already seems to be a strong reinforcement of the Kargish aspects that are similar to those of the vikings. For example, there was no allusion to slavery amongst the Kargs in the first book as they only seemed to want to completely destroy the town with fire in the first section of The Wizard of Earthsea. On the whole, I think that The Tombs of Atuan will demonstrate more and more the links between the Kargs and vikings that Le Guin has formed. 

[risluvsearth]

Scary Swedish Civilization

My expectation was based-off of the interaction that Ged and the Hardic people had with the Kargs, but The Tombs of Atuan paints a starkly contrasting picture of Kargish life, complete with an immortal High Priestess. It’s hard to imagine that any form of civil society would perform raids like that on another civilization, so I did not expect a system of governance, let alone one with a young girl as a prominent leader.

It wasn’t shocking to me, though, that the way Arha was treated as the high priestess was less than ideal. For instance, I can’t imagine how a family would feel when told they will never see their daughter, the baby High Priestess, ever again, and that it in fact was a very old lady. Arha’s childhood also seemed lonely; Penthe seems to be more of a background character who’s only purpose is to show how different Arha’s life is from that of a normal Priestess. For instance, the relationship each of the girls have to the Nameless Ones is very different -- without being taught to serve them, Penthe seemed (offensively) indifferent to there reverence. This seems a little brainwashy to me, personally.

[risluvsearth]

Ged's shadow is a symbol of the ego he left to fester into jealousy and bitterness, two things a wizard should not act on. Jung's discussion on Shadow merging remind me of spiritual shadow work. Rather than trying to run from the scary bits, we embrace and work on them to become more whole people. I'm excited to see Ged take this journey! :)

Shadows and Balance

Often, as Ursula Le Guin Suggests, we think of good and evil as black and white. Things are always one or the other. In her discussion of The child and the Shadow, she goes on to suggest that we consider how this is not usually the case. It turns out that almost everything ends up being shades of grey. She also goes on to discuss at some length the Jungian concept of “The Shadow”. While she does a great job of distilling the concept I think there are a few more points that can be highlighted. Mainly that the Shadow consists of the aspects of a person that are not clearly known to them/their ego. This means that most people tend to think of the Shadow as a collection of mostly negative things about humanity and themselves. In reality, the Shadow can contain. positive qualities as well. Jung remarks “Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.” (Psychology and Religion, pg. 131). This suggests that regardless of the nature of the Shadow, the more it is ignored and separated from the conscious mind, the more evil it is. Jung’s psychology also discusses merging with one’s Shadow, an event where the Shadow overwhelms the person and controls their actions, temporarily superseding the ego. This is very reminiscent of Ged’s multiple encounters with his Shadow, where it overpowers him. Finally, however, Ged merges with his shadow, accepting it as a part of himself. Jung calls this Assimilation, where the person retains awareness of their Shadow and how it influences and shapes them as a person. I think it is very clear from these comparisons that Ged’s shadow is indeed a representation of Jungian Psychology, and its connections to the ideas of balance. I’m very interested to see if she explores more psychology in the sequel Earthsea books. 

[risluvsearth]

Balance of light and darkness are such interesting themes in these books. I'm happy to hear it connected to the Death card!! Change and new beginnings bring opportunity to cleanse your past life! Ged is clearly not trying to do this with his shadow demon (at least not until he is forced to). Negating the shadow only lets it grow and you cannot have light without dark.

stop being mean to death!!! >:( - the child and his shadow

Like Le Guin describes with fantasy stories, one must look past the “one-sided, shadowless half-truths and conventional moralities of the collective consciousness” (62) in order to understand the symbols and archetypes represented within tarot cards.

When I took a tarot-reading class, I was really bad at separating myself from this “collective consciousness” at first. I’d look at cards like “Death” or “The Devil” and flag them as bad and scary, immediately putting on my society blinders. They were the shadow; easy to repress, to ignore, to tuck back into the deck and avoid. But as I progressed, I found that there is so much more than the surface-level reading of a card.

For example, here’s “Death” and “The Sun”:

For me, they are a pretty good example of the light and shadow we’ve been discussing with Wizard of Earthsea. “Death” obviously has some pretty negative connotations. Yet, the card has lots of symbolic similarities to “The Sun,” a generally optimistic, positive card. In both images, there is a figure holding a flag atop a white horse. Where “Death” features a skeletal knight holding a black flag, indiscriminately trampling over people (as death does), “The Sun” has a cherubic child sitting atop the same white horse, wearing the same plume in their hair, waving a lively red flag. Neither card is good or evil - they are necessarily intertwined. They show that life and vitality and beginnings, as well as death and change and endings, are a part of the same cycle.

In Earthsea, Ged made the grave mistake of repressing his shadow until it became too much for him to deal with. Only when he finally accepted this darker, more animalistic aspect of himself was he able to become whole again. In the same way, ignoring death and change and evil will make the inevitable all the more traumatic in the end. After all, “We need to see ourselves and the shadows we cast […] so that when we grow into our strength and responsibility as adults in society, we will be less inclined, perhaps, either to give up in despair or to deny what we see, when we must face the evil that is done in the world, and the injustices and grief and suffering that we all must bear, and the final shadow at the end of all” (66).

[risluvsearth]

Gifts!

Intention is powerful and whether or not it makes sense, it can completely change how an event or interaction will continue to affect you. Manifestation through intention is confidence, so it’s not absurd to attribute one’s own personal success to their positive mindset. This is why with great power comes great responsibility, and why “one of Ged’s earliest revelations is that the spirit in which an act is done is more important than the act itself” (Senior, pp. 106). Through kind acts from people he hardly knows, Ged’s relationship to material objects was shaped not by the use he got from them, but by the intention of the gift-giver. I think this is why people can be so sentimental and hold onto things. For Ged and Vetch, these “things” are their true names, symbolizing the exchange of trust between the two friends. If Ged were not to share his name after Vetch did, it would violate the very foundation of trust in which Vetch had just rooted this gift, as well as the earnest intentions he had when giving it. It must be mutual and reciprocated for it to be valid. HOWEVER, I am struggling to make this same argument for material gifts in our society. I think gifts given with the intent of getting one in return are given ill-heartedly. Setting a social norm to always return gifts is bound to create disappointment, but I suppose that if the gift is really meaningful maybe you’d want to return it?? I’m starting to confuse myself.

[risluvsearth]

Innocence and children seem to be connected themes so far. I've noticed that women have been accompanied by words like "wicked" and men by "ugly", but children, who have been untampered by the evils of society (though I'm not sure how evil Le Guin's society is) are simply little sponges ready to learn. I think the name change is significant for the transition of Ged's life.

Once again, I'd like to connect Ged to Gon from HxH. I've seen the innocent little boy turned hero trope in a couple other stories. I'm excited to see where Le Guin takes it!!

Earthsea Chapter 1 and the Shire

The clearest parallels I can draw between Ten Alders village and the Shire is that they give the main characters a safe, albeit ignorant, place to grow up without becoming weighted down by the troubles of the world. I think this serves to make the main character’s blank slate of innocence believable and gives the author a good launching point to begin molding the transformation of the character through the trials and tribulations that they will face.

Innocent places like these often serve as the launching point for most heroic adventures. The hero leaves home to gain what home cannot teach or provide for them. If characters played it safe and never left home, there would be no transformation into a hero.

I appreciate the more down to earth reason of Duny/Ged wanting to leave to become a better wizard instead of an immediate adventure to steal from a dragon or toss a world-ending ring into hell itself.