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Lavinia Kindle Edition
| Ursula K. Le Guin (Author) Find all the books, read about the author, and more. See search results for this author |
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"A transporting novel told in the voice of a girl Virgil left in the margins. It is an absorbing, reverent, magnificent story” from the iconic, award-winning Ursula K. Le Guin (Cleveland Plain Dealer).
In The Aeneid, Vergil’s hero fights to claim the king’s daughter, Lavinia, with whom he is destined to found an empire. Lavinia herself never speaks a word. Now, Ursula K. Le Guin gives Lavinia a voice in a novel that takes us to the half-wild world of ancient Italy, when Rome was a muddy village near seven hills.
Lavinia grows up knowing nothing but peace and freedom, until suitors come. Her mother wants her to marry handsome, ambitious Turnus. But omens and prophecies spoken by the sacred springs say she must marry a foreigner—that she will be the cause of a bitter war—and that her husband will not live long. When a fleet of Trojan ships sails up the Tiber, Lavinia decides to take her destiny into her own hands. And so she tells us what Vergil did not: the story of her life, and of the love of her life.
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherHarper Perennial
- Publication dateApril 21, 2008
- Reading age14 years and up
- File size2828 KB
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Editorial Reviews
Review
"She never loses touch with her reverence for the immense what is."—Margaret Atwood
"Like all great writers of fiction, Ursula K. Le Guin creates imaginary worlds that restore us, hearts eased, to our own."—Boston Globe
'There is no writer with an imagination as forceful and delicate as Le Guin's."—Grace Paley
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From Publishers Weekly
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Book Description
Review
About the Author
From School Library Journal
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Review
"She never loses touch with her reverence for the immense what is."—Margaret Atwood
"Like all great writers of fiction, Ursula K. Le Guin creates imaginary worlds that restore us, hearts eased, to our own."—Boston Globe
'There is no writer with an imagination as forceful and delicate as Le Guin's."—Grace Paley
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From Booklist
Product details
- ASIN : B003IEJZTC
- Publisher : Harper Perennial; First edition (April 21, 2008)
- Publication date : April 21, 2008
- Language : English
- File size : 2828 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 293 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #100,693 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #53 in Ancient Historical Fiction
- #79 in Ancient History Fiction (Books)
- #141 in Historical Fantasy Fiction
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Ursula Kroeber Le Guin (US /ˈɜːrsələ ˈkroʊbər ləˈɡwɪn/; born October 21, 1929) is an American author of novels, children's books, and short stories, mainly in the genres of fantasy and science fiction. She has also written poetry and essays. First published in the 1960s, her work has often depicted futuristic or imaginary alternative worlds in politics, the natural environment, gender, religion, sexuality and ethnography.
She influenced such Booker Prize winners and other writers as Salman Rushdie and David Mitchell – and notable science fiction and fantasy writers including Neil Gaiman and Iain Banks. She has won the Hugo Award, Nebula Award, Locus Award, and World Fantasy Award, each more than once. In 2014, she was awarded the National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters. Le Guin has resided in Portland, Oregon since 1959.
Bio from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
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You meet Lavinia as a girl of 18, happy in her household, nurturer of the household gods of her father, King Latinus. She is loved by her father, and estranged from her mentally unwell mother, Amata. She is dutiful, but also independent and strong of will. Through Lavinia's eyes, you see the men and women in her life, the hearth gods and the household responsibilities. Her life is on the cusp of change, being married off to one of the many suitors eager for an alliance. Her merits are many, but her role in life is as her father's daughter. Her future will be chosen without her, she is simply fortunate that her father wishes her to be happy and understands she does not want any of the suitors at hand. All this changes when, at a sacred spot, she has a vision of the poet Vergil. He tells her she is his creation, an abstract idea that is befuddling to her but one she takes seriously. More concretely, he tells her that she is destined to marry a foreigner, Aeneas, unsettled since the fall of Troy. For Lavinia and Latinus, prophecy and omen have great power. Lavinia's future is upended, and conflict brews between the suitors from her own land, and the settlers who come from across the sea. Aeneas is destined to win but must succeed in a way that can unify the two peoples.
Reading Lavinia reminded me of Tehanu, the last book of the Earthsea series. That book picks up the life of Tenar some years after her "glamorous" life in earlier novels. She opted to wed a farmer and have two children, and live what seems like an utterly mundane life. At first I was dismayed by the ordinary nature of her life, and disappointed that a heroine chooses to be a farmer's wife. Ursula Le Guin's gift, however, reveals the power in the mundane, the strength that lies in people who seem from the outside, unremarkable. There is something magical in the creation of everyday life, the nurturing of all of us, the unfolding of the world we live and breathe in each moment. The sublime is expressed in the very simple.
BothTenar and Lavinia are more than they seem. Depth of spirit, strength of character -- these are expressed in a way that resonates with anyone who has toiled to provide for and care for others. The heroism of everyday life here is shaded from a female perspective, but a wise leader, male or female, is ultimately a caretaker. Women's work is not disparaged or sidelined, it is at the heart of the tapestry that is woven each day. It is an expression of life, of worship, of fighting against the entropy at the edge of the world. It is not fighting battles that makes you a hero, fighting for one's own glory -- heroism comes from the courage that goes with a fight, courage tempered by wisdom and insight and respect for life. Battle here is not glorified, it is a necessary evil. Battle means death, and the nursing of wounds and the burial of bodies. It is grief and loss. Aeneas is powerful and respected because his years have taught him what his role as caretaker of his people really means, and that all death is a loss. Heroism is not the ultimate goal for each of us, living a life of courage and compassion and looking beyond one's self -- that is what gives meaning. He has great respect for what seems ordinary on the outside. He has come to Latium world-weary and ready to put down roots. Lavinia is not a footnote, a simple pawn in an alliance, she is his partner, and a match for him. She represents Italy's best, and Le Guin works hard to show how she was shortchanged by a poet who realizes too late, that his creation is much more than he knew.
There were moments the book felt written for me -- a classics major with a deep love for Rome in the time of Augustus, and Roman religion in general. Would someone with less of an interest in history and classics be moved by it, does it resonate with me as a woman who has spent years caring for those around her? I don't know. Le Guin feels universal to me, immersive and warm. I was sorry when I finished the book and compelled to share my impressions so that others might have their curiosity piqued. The journey through the book was quiet but nuanced and deeply satisfying. For anyone who knows the story of Aeneas, there is a thrill in feeling Le Guin's imaginings of his last years, with a beloved wife who was in every way, his equal.
There’s much to be said about writers having their characters step out of the bounds of their fictional world, speaking directly to the reader in the present time and evoking a certain mystique about their very existence. It works when done well. I’m not sure that’s the case here. I think in many ways the effort of the writer to show gratitude to the poet of the original work overshadows the plot. It sidesteps the story and forces the narrative into a retelling of history, instead. I’m not even sure Le Guin is consistent in what she intends with Virgil speaking throughout. At one point he mentions Dante and the work of fiction into which he was slung long after his death. The meta-meta work here muddies the waters of fiction and truth and fiction, pulling the savvy reader from the world into with she had happily plunged.
I didn’t love Le Guin’s portrayal of Aeneas or the way Lavinia finds no fault with him. There’s no conflict at all. Lavinia is easily swayed into marrying him. She loves him before she even meets him. I understand this is a choice the writer has made, but it seems the more boring out of all of them. The novel only shines when conflict abounds, whether with Amata or Ascanius. Those moments push the narrative forward, but the rest of the time we dawdle in a history lesson. It seemed important to Le Guin to list and “tell” -- not show -- the reader all about the warring and strife in the region. This didn’t make for exciting reading. It was often boring.
But also the choice of having a woman who’s not engaged in the fighting to recount what she sees in the courtyard (wounded men, etc.) made all of it that much more distant for the reader. We weren’t a part of any of it, and neither was Lavinia. She also seemed completely unsympathetic to her own people, which one of her father’s men points out to her. At times she comes across as petulant and childish, despite being nineteen, and at other times she seems too old for her age. I suppose I felt that way about her because I didn’t really get much sense of her, or any of the characters for that matter. They had names but never really any personalities. I think that’s due to conflict and its either being absent or easily resolved. It never felt like there was any real danger. Perhaps it’s the span of time being addressed. It’s too big to cover in a single novel. For me, Lavinia’s story may have been better told had one or two significant moments been fleshed out instead.
Top reviews from other countries
It would be so easy to make the priestess queen and her kindred over idealised as Pagan devotees of mother earth, ancestral values. Many sentimental stories, novels do that. It is avoided here because it is made clear how the tenderness of a conserving, earth centred code is also rigid with hierarchy and elaborate, endless ceremonials. The class that performs them is not critiqued for its theft of produce (wealth) from the people, which is the only weakness of the book, but it is implicitly there if you already know that analysis.
Women and men are balanced in a thoughtful way, without silly stereotypes either conservative or debased feminist. This is grown up gender.
The language is exquisitely well crafted, betraying the writer's many, many edits to sweat out the poetic gift of flow we receive, and the emotional process that bridges that different world and ours.
If you love to lose yourself in another kind of society, an old one, with its own truths, set in a world we only half know (no, one tenth know) then join this dream and enjoy it.







