Customer Reviews

The Tombs of Atuan (The Earthsea Cycle, Book 2)

5 star:		(59)
4 star:		(39)
3 star:		(18)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

Of course I liked The Tombs of Atuan. It is well-constructed and beautifully styled fantasy, comparable to the works of Susan Cooper and Patricia McKillip. (No, Tolkien is in a class by himself.)

Le Guin's Earthsea books are all excellent, but some people feel that The Tombs of Atuan is slow to start, and less eventful than the other three. My opinion, for what it's worth, is quite the opposite. The introspective beginning of Tombs is not unlike the beginning of Wizard, focussing closely on a single character, that character's uniqueness, and the way that character is shaped by life. The reader approaches the threshold of adventure with the protagonist; the reader, too, is drawn into the struggle, shares bewilderment, doubt, and uncertainty; and the reader, too, has made a passage by the end of the book.

Too much of modern fantasy is all long journeys, heated battles, unquestionably terrible villains -- and swordplay, of course. Le Guin recognizes that moral ambiguity creates the greatest obstacle a character can confront...and that if the question is worthwhile, the answer is neither easy nor painless.

Tenar is a strong heroine and I would especially recommend this book for teenage girls, whose plight is sometimes not unlike that of the Eaten One; however, as all the best books are, this is a story which is based on human character and thus speaks to both sexes and all ages.

Sparrowhawk, the protagonist of "Wizard of Earthsea," the first book of the triology, is a secondary character here; important but not the focus. This is the story of Tenar, a young priestess at the Tombs of Atuan.

Earthsea has places where there are elder powers present. Readers of "Wizard of Earthsea" encountered one in the Terrenon. Tenar, as an infant, is given to the elder power of the Tombs. Her name is taken from her and she becomes Arha, "the eaten one." She serves as a priestess to a nearly forgotten religion that treats the power of the Tombs as a god. But everything Tenar has been told is twice a lie; her religion is almost forgotten and the Power is anything but a god.

This is the story of how Tenar came to understand that her life, all of what she had been and most of what she believed was a lie. LeGuin makes it utterly convincing, in a spare, terse way that is stark and persuasive. Sparrowhawk plays a crucial role in all this, but he is not the protagonist. Sparrowhawk may have been the catalyst for Tenar's changes, but like a catalyst he is mostly unchanged by the process. It is Tenar who is changed. This is Tenar's tale.

Can you imagine how devastating it must have been for Tenar? How many of us could accept and understand that what we had been taught was evil or, worse still, utterly meaningless? Could you do as well if, say, Christianity were revealed to be an utter fraud? LeGuin makes it vivid. Any thoughtful reader is left in awe of Tenar's strength and resilience. And in awe of LeGuin's writing.

In most trilogies, the middle book is the weakest. Not the Earthsea books. This is a wonderful tale, superbly told. Very highly recommended.

The second book in the Earthsea series is something of a twist in that it does not focus on the main character of the Earthsea series. It is, instead, written from the perspective of Tenar, a priestess who is stripped of her individuality right down to losing the right to have a name. This seems to do two things, it allows you to get to know a new character (something I always enjoy) and it allows you to see Ged from a new perspective. Tenar's perspective on Ged is somewhat idealized, but it's apparent that this is the character's point of view, not the author's inability to create a character with depth.

One of the things I really enjoyed about the book was (I hope I can say this without spoiling the story) that when Ged showed up, he didn't magically fix everything that was bad. So often at the end of a book the characters are 'riding off into the sunset' and the world is a perfect place again. In this one, they do ride into the sunset, of course, but they seem to do it with the knowledge that they still have work ahead of them.

I recommend reading this book, but get The Wizard of Earthsea first to get a more complete look at the world Tenar and Ged live in.

Bravo! As a frequent reader of fantasy novels, I was initially skeptical of Ursula Le Guin's "Earthsea" series because it is so much shorter than most books in this genre. How could an author possibly establish characterizations, create worlds, grab readers with such a short book? The answer is, superbly. I have read only this book and the previous one (so far), and find that "The Tombs of Atuan" grabs hold and won't let go: you genuinely care about the characters, become spellbound by the world she creates, and simply are not able to put the book down. Unlike other fantasy authors, Le Guin's characters are neither inivincible nor shallowly "good": they are human, and like us, they are flawed creations whose trials and tribulations are not simply a jump from one outrageous escape to another. Fantasy authors everywhere should take note- wizards and foes alike do not need to possess outrageous, invincible powers to be compelling to a fantasy reader. As Le Guin brilliantly illustrates here, sometimes a simple act of kindness can be as powerful as the most flagrant mystical powers.

The measure of the author's skill can be found in this: the protagonist who personifies the magic of this world, who is the fulcrum of the entire series, is not introduced until the fifth chapter.

A lesser author could not have carried it off, or, in daring a prelude of such length, would have produced a transparent literary device, an extended prologue written only to flaunt a contrived technique. This author not only brings it off, but does so in a way that feels just right. We allow her four chapters to set the stage because it is time well spent. She does not waste a single thought.

Hers is a quiet and unhurried voice, but also cleanly intelligent. She writes sparingly, allowing the reader to fill in the spaces. In so doing, she makes room for wisdom.

The first book in this story was about the balance of life. This one is about identity. It features two protagonists: the mage already mentioned, and a young girl whose identity is ceded and then regained. I am giving away some of the plot, but this is not a betrayal. This story is about so many things, least of all plot.

How many works of fantasy depict a magic that is boastful? The magic in them is like fireworks - all thunder, flash and vigorous action. Here, the author chances another approach: her magic is so subtle that it almost escapes notice. It is used to quiet great powers, conceal a desperate escape, forestall a mounting cataclysm. This runs contrary to what the fantasy genre has taught us to expect of magic, and yet it is precisely appropriate to the story the writer tells.

This is also where the wisdom resides. The mage is more powerful than he seems. In the end, despite his humility, his power is revealed as something vast. One must delve deep to see his power, and deeper still to understand his nature. The heroine's journey takes her to such depths, and in journeying with her; we come to understand the essence of such depth.

If this depiction of the book sounds serious and weighty, this is because, to some extent, such a depiction is true. It takes a contemplative soul to appreciate this book, and it will disappoint many who come seeking simpler pleasures. This is the second of a series of three (I will always think of Earthsea as a trilogy) and far and away the most muted. It is not for everyone; but for those willing to commit the emotional investment, it reveals itself as the slow middle movement in a beautiful concerto; missing perhaps the sweep and power of its sister movements, but possessing an intimate grandeur of its own.

After reading the enitre Earth-Sea series over a period of time, I have to say this is the best of the series. The other two in the original trilogy were OK (and the fourth, in my opinion, was a real letdown), but his stands out from them. Its the only book in the series that I felt was written well by Ursula K Leguin. In the first she squandered her promising beginning in a meandering tale; in the third she mired her good underlying idea in tedium. This book isn't as ambitious as the other two; maybe thats why it succeeds in its aims better.

Some have said that the beginning is slow, but I felt these scenes are some of her best in the trilogy; they're interesting, and you can actually feel for the character. Arha is a splendid creation, an uncertain preistess of the dark. Furthermore, this book really expands the EarthSea universe for me. The first book was cramped and kind of uninvolved; long, boring boat rides come to mind. Here there is a sense of a corner of time, left behind for a while where the dark forces still rule. On the horizon is frightful change as the Godking tries to usurp the power of the Dark Ones Arha serves. The tension between Arha and Kossil is gripping, especially near the end. Her change of mind towards Ged, over time, clearly displays her insecurities as preistess. And all through the book, there is the tension arising from the Dark Ones in the background. Here, finally, is the conflict the series needed; there is a continual battle between the forces of man and modernity versus the Old powers of the world of EarthSea.

Not to say the book is without problems, but this is mostly because the story isn't really a trilogy (or a 'quatrology') but 3 or 4 separate books practically self contained. Thus it tales some time for LeGuin to build up momentum in each book; sometimes she succeeds, other times she doesnt really. Thankfully this book can be looked at as a success.

Perhaps the greatest testament to LeGuin's abilities is the fact that I was profoundly moved by this book as a child, and until about 15 minutes ago I never knew it was the second book of a trilogy. A dark and sometimes brooding book, its mood and characters have stuck with me well into adulthood. It's a powerful little story about isolation, loss of self, fear of adulthood. Mythically and metaphorically it addresses the horrible passage from the relative spiritual freedom of childhood to the often overwhelming moral and social burdens of adulthood. It ends with an earned and mature freedom from darkness, and an understanding that all of life is a journey. This book stands alone, but I can't wait to see what the other two parts of the trilogy are like. If you have a child, particularly a daughter, niece, etc., entering into a difficult passage of life, this book would be a great gift.

This is the second book in the "Earthsea" series, but I would hate anyone to think that these books are meant to be read in any particular order. True, the character of Ged ages in each one of them and "Tombs" was penned by author Ursula le Guin *after* "A Wizard of Earthsea", but...these books are unique. Like "The Chronicles of Narnia", many make a big deal about the correct reading order when in fact it`s not that big a deal. Think of it like Diana Wynne Jones's "Chrestomanci" series or even George Lucas's Star Wars trilogy and its prequels. Sometimes thinks are better when they are read out of chronological order. And sometimes they aren't. That's the best part about "Earthsea" - it doesn't really matter.

As a young child Tenar is taken from her home to serve as "Arha" (or, "The Nameless One") in the Tombs of Atuan, identified as the reincarnated One Priestess. Her name is taken from her, she is now known as "The Eaten One", servant of the Nameless Ones, subjected to repetitive ritual and ceremonies, revered as a holy being and yet alone and friendless. Amongst the desolate tombs and stone buildings of the desert, Tenar lives out a meaningless existence in the service of speechless, invisible gods.

Her only solace is in the underground labyrinth, a place where light is forbidden and where only she dares tread. Somewhere in the twisting tunnels is the great treasure room, where a priceless artefact lies. It is for this that the wizard Ged (now middle-aged) secretly enters the labyrinth so that he might restore its power to the world above. But he has underestimated the difficulties of the labyrinth, and now lies at the mercy of the Arha. Fascinated by this travelling wizard, she is loathe to have him executed - not when he is incapacitated by the labyrinth and thus completely in her power. A battle of wits emerges; with the Arha gradually becoming aware of life beyond her service to the Nameless Ones and Ged desperately bartering for his life.

The desert, the tombs and the underground labyrinth are all detailed and descriptive - in fact, it can get a little claustrophobic down there in the labyrinth! It's not quite as vivid as Alan Garner's descriptions in "The Weirdstone of Brisingamen"), but the detailed descriptions of the pressing darkness and the twisting tunnels certainly made sigh in relief every time Tenar emerged once more into the sunlight.

Most fantasy stories cater to a quest motif, and although this is partly the case here, what with Ged searching for the ring of Erreth-Akbe, the fact that the story is told entirely from Tenar's point of view makes it quite different. "The Tombs of Atuan" is best described as a character study of a young woman who has been raised in extra-ordinary circumstances. How many other fantasy books can be described thus? Rather than the quest for the ring (I couldn`t help but toy with the idea that le Guin chose a ring as the McGuffin so that it would be purposefully contrasted with "The Lord of the Rings") the author concentrates solely on the thoughts and experiences of her detached and proud protagonist, in whose young hands lie the power of life and death. For this reason, many readers may be put off. There is very little action throughout the course of the book, and the pacing is almost excruciatingly slow. But this is precisely the point: it is the best way to convey the monotony and misery of Tenar's life.

The loss of faith, the shock of freedom, the loneliness of power, the terror of being responsible for another's death - these are the hefty issues at the forefront of the novel, and ones that are handled brilliantly by the author. It's not an easy book to get through, and perhaps not even a re-readable one; but for anyone claiming to be a fantasy-fan, or even someone who claims to be a reader of all the classics, it is essential.

Innocence and darkness are mixed so beautifully here that it is truly a haunting story. A 'dalai-lamaistic' faith system as ancient and timeless as the world in which it dwells is the under-pinning premise here - Tenar is the re-incarnated High Priestess of the Tombs with a thousand previous lives. She is taken from her parents as a mere child, loses her name and any real identity and becomes utterly sunken in this dark dry spiritual world. She believes. She becomes. The reader remembers who she really was but she doesn't and the reader is cut to the heart. Le Guin paints something really vivid here and all the more so because her young heroine stumbles literally in complete darkness. She shows you how a life can be swallowed up in absolute ignorance and how tragic that is. When Ged arrives and leads her out of darkness, Tenar is given back her name but realizes that she is left with nothing else. Everything she was taught was a lie. This is how the book ends. It is no wonder that Le Guin wrote a 'follow-up' devoted to Tenar (Tehanu) because I think she felt she owed it to Tenar and to the readers. A real gem of a story.

A short review for a short novel. "The Tombs of Atuan" takes us to the island of Atuan in the Kargad Empire, a power only tangentailly present in "A Wizard of Earthsea". Here we find a young priestess Arha, raised to lead those who worship the powers dwelling deep within the mysterious tombs. Ursula K. Leguin delivers, just like always. "The Tombs of Atuan" is almost ridiculously simple in its plot, powerful in its execution, and uncompormising in its moral vision.

The evocation of place is central to the novel's success. The tombs themselves breath so much dusty stagnation and dark menace that they almost become a character in their own right. Tied in with this is the tale of Arha's progress from early childhood to adolescence, which takes up the first half of the book. By mingling setting and character growth, Leguin shows us how Arha's world shapes her, and asks us to consider the great mysteries surrounding religious and social attitudes towards child-rearing.

In the second half, of course, Ged shows up, intent on a mission though at first we don't know what. The final seventy pages, though sparing in terms of plot, cover a lot of ground as the characters rotate around each other in anticipation of the climax. "The Tombs of Atuan" is a masterpiece of setting, mood, and efficient prose, not to be missed by anyone who truly loves fantasy.