Superman needed Kryptonite in order to keep the stories interesting over the years (and, with “red” Kryptonite, somewhat chaotic and silly). So, it’s no wonder that when a wizard has attained immense power and saved the universe from destruction that said wizard must run into her/his own version of Kryptonite. One is almost halfway through The Tombs of Atuan before realizing that Ged had found his Kryptonite in the soul-stealing, doubt-ridden shadows of the title’s Tombs of Atuan, but that doesn’t matter since it isn’t so much Ged’s story as the story of the young woman with no name (or, at least, the “forgotten name” of the girl who has been “eaten” by the “Nameless Ones”).It’s interesting to me that the first volume in this famous trilogy was about “naming.” One had to learn to protect one’s true name and the only way to be certain of the effectiveness of a spell or a successful duel with another is to know the true name. This isn’t an accident. Magic (imagined and in with certain serious followers today) follows the idea of both primitive religion and philosophy in that one gains power over a thing/creature/person/situation by being able to name it. We see this even in the Hebrew Bible when Adam is given the ability to name the animals, when Jacob asks the angel of Lord (or demonstration by the Lord Himself) for His name (and is given a new name in turn), and when God gives Moses a personal name at the burning bush (among others). There is an implicit trust and granting of power in the bestowal of or discovery of a name. And, of course, in ancient philosophy, the name was representative of the “ideal.” So, it was with a bit of wonder that the protagonist of The Tombs of Atuan must lose her name early in the story. “The little girl, who had no name anymore but Arha, the Eaten One, lay on her back looking steadily at the dark.” (p. 7). How different this volume is! In order to find fulfillment, one must forget one’s identity (to use evangelical terminology, even “die” to one’s identity) in order to discover what one needs. Ged had to learn to face who he really was and be able to name the darkness that plagued him; Arha had to learn not to accept the darkness she had always taken for granted. At one point in the book, an outsider who is under her power tells her: “You could keep me a slave, and be a slave; or set me free, and come free with me.” (p. 116)Her struggle, appropriately enough enshrouded in the shadows of darkness and the doubt, fear, and despair hidden within the unknown, gives way to insights such as: “What she had begun to learn was the weight of liberty. Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake. It is not easy. It is not a gift given, but a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one. The road goes upward towards the light; but the laden traveler may never reach the end of it.” (p. 141) And one hears echoes of truth from many perspectives when our guilt-ridden protagonist is told, “You were never made for cruelty and darkness; you were made to hold light, as a lamp burning holds and gives its light.” (p. 145)So far, both volumes have dealt with facing darkness of one kind or another. Perhaps, it’s a theme that is relevant to all of us. I didn’t get into this volume as quickly as I got into the first volume, but I really liked the way the author pulled it together.
I really enjoyed reading the first book in this series, A Wizard of Earthsea. It had surprising depth and subtlety, and a wonderful main character in the wizard, Ged, who came of age through some hard earned lessons. That was a wonderful book for young people and adults to read separately or together to discuss the themes. But unfortunately, this second book in the series is nothing like the first book in depth or character development. Even the poetic language of the first book is missing from this one, replaced by more common phrasing and some jarring anachronistic language such as the idiom "you know" at a time when gods were worshiped. By the way, this idiom dates as far back as the 1500's, which surprised me. But enough about the first book. The second book no longer focuses on Ged, though he plays an important supporting role in this tale of self-sacrifice and deception. The main character is a young woman who, when she was six years of age, was chosen to replace the high priestess of her people who had recently died. The young woman was born on the same day the high priestess died, so it was believed that the priestess' soul would be reborn in her. If you think this sounds like an honor for the young woman to be chosen for this role as a girl, you'd be wrong. It was more of a curse because, for her to be reborn as that priestess, she would be forced to give up her own name and identity, her very soul eaten in an intense ceremony. And to make matters more difficult, after being taken from her family and isolated from most other people serving their temple, she must guard a special treasure kept hidden in an underground labyrinth, as well as decree punishments and make sacrifices. And all this starting at the age of six and beyond that, by degrees. And this is where this book encountered problems by focusing on a character who literally had no character of her own. The young woman known as Arha was very one dimensional, mostly spiteful or vengeful, or a spoiled brat, incapable emotionally to handle the heavy duties placed upon her. It was difficult to care about her other than to feel a little sorry for her. So on and on the story goes as she went through her training and learned the path of the underground tomb and labyrinth. It wasn't until the midpoint of the book that she sprung to life when Ged appeared and turned Arha's world on its head, putting a different spin on what she always thought to be the truth about the gods and her role as their high priestess. Ged came to the labyrinth to steal something important from the treasure Arha guarded. But little did Arha know that he had a treasure of his own to give her in exchange for it. As much as I enjoyed the reappearance of Ged and the interactions between him and Arha in a battle of wits and in a battle to win trust, they seemed a little forced into the story. But I was still glad to have any amount of time with Ged who found his way into my heart in book one. He supposedly plays a larger role in the third book which is why I'll be reading it, hoping for the magic in the first book to return. This wasn't a bad book. It just wasn't memorable except for some very creepy moments concerning Arha's training, and the ending which touched me and left me wanting more. Recommended for ages twelve and up, a slightly older reader than book one, due to some disturbing violence.
What do You think about The Tombs Of Atuan (2001)?
This is easily one of my favorite books, possibly my absolute favorite (which is funny because the first time I read it as a kid I disliked it enough that I never wanted to read another Le Guin book again). It's a little slow for the first half of the book, but once Ged shows up, the plot takes on a pressing, page-turning urgency that was never present in "A Wizard of Earthsea." Tenar is a wonderfully complicated main character, as is the moral development she undergoes, and Ged is awesome in his role as the dashing adventurer here. The not-quite-a-love-story thing going on between them is also possibly the most romantic thing I've ever seen in fiction, probably because it isn't written as a romance at all, but as two equal human beings connecting, forming a bond of friendship, and learning to trust each other with their lives. The ritual and mythology surrounding the Nameless Ones, the tombs, and Tenar's life as a priestess were all fascinating to me. Le Guin also uses a lot of stunning dark vs. light visual symbolism in the book, which sounds simplistic, but really took my breath away. There were some passages, like when Ged first brought light to the tombs, that I had to reread several times over because they were so powerful and arresting. Philosophically, the book is beautifully life-affirming. It acknowledges the darkness inherent in life and doesn't try to gloss over it, but doesn't embrace it either, and ultimately transcends it. On a personal note, when I read this book I had been stuck in a loop of nihilistic thinking for months, and reading this actually re-convinced me that yes, there is a point to trying to do good in the world after all. So, one of those rare books that I think has the power to change lives.
—Christine
I like the complexity and the emotion, but I found the book disturbing, too. Bringing up "unfaith" and skepticism was good. The struggle for power between Arha and Kossil was good as well. I didn't like the inconsistency, though. The gods (the Nameless Ones) had power, just not the power Arha thought they had, so they weren't worth worshipping? Or was it merely that Ged decided they were "bad"? Or that they wouldn't strike Kossil down? They had not done anything until Ged came along (others sacrificed the prisoners, not the Nameless Ones). I had problems with Ged being a thief as well, and being unashamed of it. He didn't even try to negotiate. Also, Ged's face is described as black but all the pictures in the book show him as white (sometimes a little tan). I liked Tenar's contemplation of what she would do now that she was no longer the One Priestess, though. The indecision and the main battle aftermath is often glossed over, or turned into happily ever after. This was a much different presentation than most fantasy and the uniqueness should be lauded. I definitely don't find it on a par with Middle Earth or Narnia, though.
—Jonnynsb
I've read the first three Earthsea books a heap of times, starting when I was at my academic peak (i.e. in primary school). Through-out my childhood readings I preferred the two that sandwiched this one. Looking back it is easy for me to see why: it wasn't about Ged and it didn't have enough sailing about to far flung places (i.e. exploration) in it. In contrast, I have observed that a number of female Goodreaders who are also LeGuin fans, rate this higher than the other two. I can take a guess as to why that might be; there are no female characters in the other two. There are some women, even some who play pivotal roles, in both, but they are not fully formed characters, let alone protagonists. Most of these women are unpleasant or down-right evil. A Wizard of Earthsea and The Farthest Shore are entirely male-dominated. The Tombs of Atuan, in contrast, is almost entirely female dominated. THIS REVIEW HAS BEEN CURTAILED IN PROTEST AT GOODREADS' CENSORSHIP POLICYSee the complete review here:http://arbieroo.booklikes.com/post/33...
—Robert
