Tyler
Updated a reading goal:
Read 12 books by December 31, 2025
Progress so far: 50 / 12 417%
It’s not a long list but, certainly the best graphic novel adaptation I’ve encountered. And not due to the preservation of the original text—like Ogion the Silent and Le Guin before him, Fred Fordham knows the truth of, “Only in silence, the word.” These stunning images render an Earthsea suffused with shadow and light, such that the reader turns within to form the edges and chart their course
It’s not a long list but, certainly the best graphic novel adaptation I’ve encountered. And not due to the preservation of the original text—like Ogion the Silent and Le Guin before him, Fred Fordham knows the truth of, “Only in silence, the word.” These stunning images render an Earthsea suffused with shadow and light, such that the reader turns within to form the edges and chart their course
Not simply a book for readers and writers of fantasy/sci-fi but anyone who feels sincerely for art at all. Le Guin toppled barriers of industry with her groundbreaking fiction, but here she turns our attention to the artistic walls of our own making. Through the language of the night itself, she illuminates our responsibility and privilege to engage with our collective unconscious and embrace truth in writing. For when we refuse to accept anything lesser, this still-evolving literature of unreal creatures, technologies, possibilities presents a truth of our time more "real" than anything else
Not simply a book for readers and writers of fantasy/sci-fi but anyone who feels sincerely for art at all. Le Guin toppled barriers of industry with her groundbreaking fiction, but here she turns our attention to the artistic walls of our own making. Through the language of the night itself, she illuminates our responsibility and privilege to engage with our collective unconscious and embrace truth in writing. For when we refuse to accept anything lesser, this still-evolving literature of unreal creatures, technologies, possibilities presents a truth of our time more "real" than anything else
No doubt Le Guin wrote this in a room of her own. Perhaps facing west. Mine is the weakness that her strength seeks
No doubt Le Guin wrote this in a room of her own. Perhaps facing west. Mine is the weakness that her strength seeks
Through the looking glass, into the place where it all began—from flowing waters there surfaced all systems of sex and gendered power. All loveless death, purpose-driven life, and the precarious paths between. When we fasten to one another in that place of thought, not with chains but charitable understanding…if we make our own path, may we never look back.
Someone tell me Le Guin isn’t the best to ever do it, I dare you. Also fairly wild to read of Hugh’s Labor Day struggles as I too weigh a crossroads involving librarianship
Through the looking glass, into the place where it all began—from flowing waters there surfaced all systems of sex and gendered power. All loveless death, purpose-driven life, and the precarious paths between. When we fasten to one another in that place of thought, not with chains but charitable understanding…if we make our own path, may we never look back.
Someone tell me Le Guin isn’t the best to ever do it, I dare you. Also fairly wild to read of Hugh’s Labor Day struggles as I too weigh a crossroads involving librarianship
Through the looking glass, into the place where it all began—from flowing waters there surfaced all systems of sex and gendered power. All loveless death, purposeful life, and the precarious paths between. When we fasten to one another in that place of thought, not with chains but charitable understanding…if we make our own path, may we never look back.
Someone tell me Le Guin isn’t the best to ever do it, I dare you. Also fairly wild to read of Hugh’s Labor Day struggles as I too weigh a crossroads involving librarianship
Through the looking glass, into the place where it all began—from flowing waters there surfaced all systems of sex and gendered power. All loveless death, purposeful life, and the precarious paths between. When we fasten to one another in that place of thought, not with chains but charitable understanding…if we make our own path, may we never look back.
Someone tell me Le Guin isn’t the best to ever do it, I dare you. Also fairly wild to read of Hugh’s Labor Day struggles as I too weigh a crossroads involving librarianship
