Customer Reviews

Tehanu: The Last Book of Earthsea

5 star:		(55)
4 star:		(21)
3 star:		(30)
2 star:		(26)
1 star:		(31)

 

 

This story is so hard to rate, because it is excellent - the writing is so much more personal and deep than in the previous books in the trilogy. If you are looking at the technical parts of the story, Tehanu is much better than the beginning stories, and you will go back to the first trilogy, read it and wonder why she couldn't have made the style more like it. It is an good starting point for people who are not accustomed to fantasy, or who like reality to have a place in a fairy tale.

The problem that everyone has with this book, in my opinion, is how harsh it is, how human the characters. We who loved the first book will be shocked and dismayed at how frail and... and real our heroes have become. Ged without magic, and utterly without power really hurts to read about. Reading these characters, after having loved who they were, is like having your dreams shattered. The magic is torn brutally out of the fairy tale, and what we have left isn't pleasant. I kept reading the story only because I was certain Le Guin wouldn't let what was once a beloved story for adults and children alike become such a hard, ugly story about life and pain and hope. She just couldn't, but she did. Reading a fantasy in which your heroes are broken and humbled is almost as frightening as watching your parents cry, or seeing what was once a beloved place be torn down to make something like a freeway, black and ugly and full of smog. I kept wishing for the dream that was clear and innocent and beautiful in the first books to come back, but it never did. And though some people might laugh at me for being so childish, I think that the reason we all loved the first books was that it was so much a story that included our fairy tale champions, the characters that we could love both as children and adults, that we could share with our kids. And it gave us these characters without giving the story a predictable, black-and-white cut-and-dry plot. Our heroes made mistakes, and were sometimes foolish and stubborn, which made them all the more treasured and endearing. Tehanu is hard and painful and too real to be connected with the first books. The reason, to me at least, for reading fantasy is not to see life, which is frequently harsh and oppresive and can be cruel with its promises, but to see hope and beauty and dignity which is all too rare in our world. There are enough stories of grief and suffering out there as it is, in stories and out of them.

Adults who have never read and loved the first books might like this story. They might see it as a superb example of life, exhausting and petty and cruel at times, being brought into a field of books which normally contains simple, predictable, happy endings of good over bad. And it does, but in my opinion the fairy tale and innocence and fantasy were better left standing, not brought down and dragged in the dust and mire.

This book is a betrayal of all that came before. It should never have been written.

The first three were works of wonder, touching on universal themes: sublime, compelling, cogent and inspiring. They asked large questions and arrived at honest answers, but they did so gently and gracefully. The quiet unhurried voice is one that this author has honed to perfection. Her world of Earthsea ranks among the very classics, alongside Middle Earth, Narnia and Avalon.

Here, everything that made Earthsea so inspiring and evocative is sacrificed to make a point. Le Guin has decided that the fourth book of the series shall be a polemic - an undisguised and prolonged treatise directed at female empowerment and decrying child abuse. Are these worthy moral pursuits? Of course they are. Do they belong in the world of Earthsea? Not even remotely.

This book was one of the most excruciating and disappointing reads I have ever undertaken. It's not the writing or the skill - the author's proficiency remains unparalleled - but the desecration of what was magnificent. The skill with which this work is written actually adds to the anguish; we remember what this skill was harnessed to build and cannot help but contrast it to what it is now being used to destroy.

Reading this book, one is struck by how fragile a fantasy world like Earthsea really is. Earthsea works because, like all myth, it is founded in a successful illusion. When an author creates such a world, she makes a pact with the reader: "Accept this illusion, and we will journey to a place more vital than any you have known." If the author ever forgets this promise, if she ever turns from the myth to the commonplace, the illusion collapses and the world disintegrates.

In this novel, Earthsea suffers precisely such a fate. The mysterious is rendered mundane, fantasy is replaced with reality, imagination is sacrificed to treatise, and the philosophical is surrendered to the prosaic. In the process, Earthsea is reduced to plain old earth. Our imagination is arrested in mid flight and we land with a shattering thump.

The third book of the series was a magnificent work. The hero must save Earthsea from the death of its magic. He succeeds, but at great personal cost. In this book, the magic of Earthsea truly dies, but the death comes at the hands of its author and for reasons that are unworthy. This is one of the few books that actively destroys what has gone before. This destruction is so complete that I wish I had never read it and that the memory of Earthsea had been preserved for me unstained.

Award-winning writer Ursula K. Le Guin finished the Earthsea 'trilogy' in 1972 with the tremendous novel "The Farthest Shore," simply one of the best fantasies ever penned. (The other two books are "A Wizard of Earthsea" and "The Tombs of Atuan.") Eighteen years later, in 1990, Le Guin decided to extend the trilogy to another book, "Tehanu," and has since written two additional books, "Tales from Earthsea" and "The Other Wind." In "Tehanu," she sought to balance out the story of Earthsea by re-visiting Tenar, the girl from "The Tombs of Atuan" and viewing the world through her eyes as an adult coming to terms with the way her life has gone and her relationship to Ged, the hero of the previous three books.

Sadly, "Tehanu" is a major disappointment and the poorest of the Earthsea books. The idea sounds interesting: exploring Earthsea from the point of view of a non-sorcerer woman. But Le Guin fails to create an even remotely interesting story around Tenar -- actually, there is hardly any story at all. Tenar stays on the farm, makes a few trips, and takes care of herself and Therru, the strange girl she adopted after Therru was abused and badly burnt. Ged returns abruptly, his magic gone, and the king's men are searching for him. It appears possible that a narrative line will develop from this, but none does. The book plods through unconnected scenes and talky dialogue until it abruptly ends.

I'm at a loss to explain Le Guin's narrative failure here. Perhaps, in feeling that she was achieving a great character study, she felt the book would carry itself without a spine of a story, but it doesn't. The problem doesn't lay in what the author says or how she says it -- I'm fine with the female slant to the book -- but how she chooses to frame it. The reader must have a reason to continually turn the page, must want to know how the characters will struggle to overcome their problems and why they must be overcome. Without such a structure, the reader will have a difficult time investing him or herself in what happens, and that is exactly the case here. For an example of Le Guin doing this correctly, read her brilliant novel "The Left Hand of Darkness." She set out to explore an issue of sexuality, and achieved it through the device of adventure and political turmoil. "Tehanu" lacks any cohesive device like that; the book merely 'continues' until it is done.

Le Guin's writing style and sense of her characters do keep "Tehanu" from being completely unreadable, but it is slow going. People who have read the first three books should definitely read this because of what it reveals about Tenar and Ged, but they shouldn't go into it expecting the epic grandeur and sweeping power of the first three novels. "Tehanu" remains frustratingly earthbound and static.

Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea trilogy was a classic of fantasy literature, until "Tehanu" was written (making it a quadrology). Now with the series rounded out to six books, "Tehanu" has proved itself to be the black sheep of the family -- it's well written, but preachy and lacking in Le Guin's magical touch.

Tenar was once a powerful priestess in a darkened kingdom, until the wizard Ged rescued her and brought her away with him. Now Tenar is a widow, after marrying into an ordinary village and living an ordinary life. She's lonely, but takes care of the burned Therru, a silent young girl who was abused by her parents. Suddenly a dragon arrives, with a wounded Ged on its back -- he's lost his powers in saving Earthsea.

Tenar helps nurse her old friend back to health, and Ged struggles to come to terms with the loss of his magic, which is something he's always had. Their relationship begins to grow deeper and tenderer. But a new threat rears its head, and it may not be Ged or Tenar -- but Therru -- who is called on to stop it.

The biggest problem with "Tehanu" is that it really has no story. Each of the previous books had a clearly defined storyline, but in this book, it's basically just Tenar pottering around, Ged moping, and Therru not doing much at all. At the end, the narrative develops some vitality and mystery. Up until then, there is no epic power, no awe-inspiring quality.

Certainly there's nothing wrong with a smaller, more intimate story. Nor is there a problem with the feministic slant of the book. However, without the spellbinding quality of the first three books, there really isn't much to hold your attention. Le Guin's writing is still beautiful and poetic, yet it somehow feels empty -- she let the message about women take over the narrative, rather than weaving it in.

While it's somehow disappointing to find that Tenar simply became a housewife, it's interesting to see her internal conflicts, her regrets, and her growing love for Ged. Ged is less engaging, since he has lost his powers and mainly thinks about that. And most of the supporting characters -- except the dragon -- are dull and two-dimensional. Please, enough with the 2-D misogynists. We get the point.

"Tehanu" is a necessary link between the two halves of the Earthsea series, but Le Guin's lack of story and soapbox mentality make it more a penance than a pleasure.

This is the 4th and last book in the Earthsea quartret.
After using up all his power to heal the tear in the fabric of reality, Ged returns to Gont, his first home, to learn and cope with life without magic. Alongside Ged's story, we are told the story of Tenar whom he rescued from the Tombs of Atuan in the 2nd book.
Unlike the first three books, this book has almost no plot. This is in fact not a bad thing. It means Tenahu is more of a "character's novel", which is fine, with the two main characters being Ged and Tenar. The book slowly unfolds and reveals their lives and their relationship.
In my opinion Le-Guin botched up an opportunity at a really great novel here - there aren't many character-based works of fantasy out there. This is a rare book. The theme of losing one's power and learning to cope with it is also powerful and capable of moving, if used correctly. However, Le-Guin has turned Tenahu into a feminist manifesto. I'm all for feminism, but it has been shown in countless cases that art recruited to prove a point is at most average art. This is exactly the case with this book - in her attempt to show the value of women, Le Guin forgot about her characters and the whole coherency of the book. I think the only reason this book has survived so far is because it has the earlier 3 books to carry its weight.
I felt I had to write these things down, although I don't think these comments will deter any earthsea fan from purchasing this book, and, after all, aren't we all Earthsea fans here, having reached the 4th book at all?

I refuse to accept this book as part of the Earthsea trilogy, not simply because I dislike it, (which I do) but because it has little or no continuity with the earlier three. Ged's soliloquy on the way to the final confrontation on Selidor in 'The Farthest Shore' shows not only does he realize what the battle is going to cost him but accepts the price willingly. He is even looking forward to going home to Gont, Ogion and Tenar and perhaps learning what magery could never teach him. A long way from the lost and despairing figure in 'Tehanu'. Then there's chronology. According to 'The Farthest Shore' it's been about eighteen years since Ged and Tenar brought the ring of Erreth-Akbe back to Havnor, certainly not enough time for Tenar to find a husband, bear two children and raise them to adulthood. Nor does her choice of a simple farmer as a husband seem particularly likely. A more minor quibble is the fact the Master Summoner survives in 'Farthest Shore' but is suddenly and inexplicably dead in 'Tehanu'. If Ms. LeGuin didn't care enough to maintain continuity I don't see why I should have to accept this depressing little tome with its stereotypical portrayal of men as oppressors and women as victims as a legitimate sequel to the Earthsea trilogy.

I might have liked this book when I was in college, and I may like when I'm fifty, but I can't say I liked it much at 37. The problem with the book is NOT the feminist message. I was surprised at the almost complete lack of a feminist perspective in the first three books, and was excited to see that Tenar was the protagonist of TEHANU. The problem is that Le Guin goes into a kind of Heinlein mode here, letting the Message overpwer the story. In fact, there is very little story at all. It isn't until the very last chapter that something is actually allowed to happen, but before that happens we are forced to see Tenar and Ged utterly humiliated. So do we "reject" the book, as an earlier reviewer does? Definitely not. This is still a very well-written story (if "story" is what it actually is) that adds depth to the world of Earthsea and deepens our understanding of that world and its people. Hey, it's Le Guin! It's not her best work, but it's vastly superior to the bulk of stuff published under the rubric of fantasy. Fans of Earthsea might want to think of this book as a bridge to TALES OF EARTHSEA and THE OTHER WIND, both of which are inspired and exciting. (I wish, though, that she had made TEHANU a short story and had developed the short stories "The Finder" and "Dragonfly" into full-length novels!)

I had the pleasure of reading the entire cycle from A Wizard of Earthsea through to The Other Wind in a two month period. Apparently for some people, having to wait several years between the end of The Farthest Shore and Tehanu gave them time to build up rather unrealistic expectations of what Ursula K Le Guin should have written. The first three books were not exclusively about Ged. Indeed, he was the central character but the books were really about Earthsea itself, and why not continue the cycle with someone else as the main focus?

For some, I believe Ged is seen to be the Archmage and nothing else, he can't be free to change and evolve. And the same holds true for Earthsea-Earthsea cannot evolve and grow in a different direction for a good many people. But that is what happens in life. Change is inevitable, change is good. Change is what keeps life from being one-sided and boring. Earthsea and her characters change and develope and keep one guessing what is going to happen. Ged is not just a wizard, he is also a man, a man with feelings like other men, with problems like other men. Tenar is not just a vessel for an unseen power, she is a woman with power of her own; and Tehanu is a survivor and possesses a magic all her own.

Change is magic. Change is hard for some to accept, harder than it can be to accept the concept of magic. I am for an Earthsea that explores different levels of being in the world. This book, and the subsequent books, forge ahead instead of looking behind.

I am sick and tired of hearing about how liberating this book was for women. If that is truly the case, then I'm embarrassed. Do men have to be broken-down weaklings in order for us to prove our strength? Thank you, but I think I'll distance myself from the feminist frenzy surrounding this book.

Or of course one can be accused of being too immature to understand the book's deep message. There is no way to misunderstand the book's deep message--it does nothing but ramble on and on about various deep messages and philosophical problems for 100+ pages. This would have been fine, if there had been a plot. But 'kitchen sink drama' makes this book sound too dramatic. Occasionally the 'bad guy' with the brown cap walks by, and he and Tenar get to stare at each other--that is the sole source of tension, and how paltry it is. Then, after pages and pages meandering and rambling in the kitchen, suddenly there is a slam-bang ending, and everything that DIDN'T happen in the earlier two hundred or so pages suddenly happens all at once in the last five, and is resolved neatly without any logic or even any suspense. It is simply resolved, so that Tenar could finally stop philosophizing and the book could end.

Tenar is a nice strong woman, but set beside the drained and indignified shell of Ged and the dying Ogion, her strength looks like a cheap shot for feminism. Wouldn't it make sense that the ideal way to portray feminine strength would be to show how it can hold its own ALONG with masculine strength? To triumph over an already-dead body is a self-deceiving victory at best. Ged was a great character--ruining him to prove a point is a sorry waste.

As for Earthsea itself, which used to sing in my veins with its magic--now it has been stripped of all semblance of itself, though the outer trappings remain. The magic is gone. Neither dragons nor wizardry can revive it, for in this book these devices are automatic, born of little inspiration. It is as if the fantasy elements are meant to coat the capsule of feminism so it'll go down more easily.

I loved the trilogy, and this was lousy in comparison. Standing on its own, it is just as bad, unless it's required reading for a course in feminist literature. Even then it's pretty bad, having no structure whatsoever. The one extra star is for LeGuin's poetic prose, which is the only thing this book has retained from the trilogy.

I absolutely loved the Earthsea trilogy. It was concise, well-written, and yet still managed to create a well-imagined world that intrigued even the most casual of science fiction readers. That said, I must agree with previous reviewers. This book is not cut from the same cloth. It muddles through the waters to an obvious and very annoying conclusion. A fan of happy endings, I failed to find this one satisfying even though it did it's best to conclude--the questions why and how are left unanswered in an attempt at subtlety. But it fails because major plot points are left hanging. In addition, as a fan of magic, I was expecting some in this volume as per the last three. Imagine my surprise that despite many possibilities, no magic was used. Indeed, my favorite characters were demeaned and dehumanized and for what reason? None that I can tell. I must say that I expected more from the author than to treat her women the way she did. But in any case, a most annoying novel and one that I highly recommend you DON'T read after the trilogy. Keep your illusions--they are much better than what Mrs. LeGuinn herself imagines.