Much Like an MMO

I completed my second reading of Ursula K. Le Guin’s “A Wizard of Earthsea” Saturday night.  A young wizard named Ged struggles with the consequences of his early, untutored, foray into magic.  I am aware, though uncertain how, this tale is considered groundbreaking for it’s non-white main character.  Or maybe it’s just considered a good story and happens to have a non-white character.

The first time I read the story I found it passable but not compelling.  Despite being set in an extensive and (we’re told) diverse archipelago the plot clings tightly to the young wizard.  Essentially Ged’s story is a quest unencumbered with a motley troupe of characters and nothing unexpected occurs.  Sure, Ged overcomes a trial or two, but in the end he whacks the big evil on the head and lives to make book two.

I describe Ged as non-white, because I know Le Guin told me her character possessed dark skin, but I never got a definitive picture of what exactly that meant.  I know people who develop a mental image of folks they’ve only met over the phone: blonde, slightly overweight, and jovial.  I don’t do that, to me the voice is the person.  My style of reading mirrors my phone style.  It accounts mostly for plot, dialogue, tempo, and emotion but it doesn’t linger on what color a dragon is, how long a sword might be, or the subtle difference between glowing magefire or gleaming magefire.

In any case, Ged’s color played no part in the story.  Maybe that’s the groundbreaking part.  I don’t know.

I read the book a second time for three reasons: it wasn’t bad the first time, it was short, and I was convinced that I might come to understand the importance of the book.  It still wasn’t bad, it still was the same length, I still don’t comprehend.  I feel bad about the last one, but I’m not sure what more I can do.

All this is really preamble for me to tell you that I’m now finally reading that book I bought a couple weeks back: the complete short stories of John Steinbeck.

Day 337

Leave One Tired

Some days–like this day–lend themselves poorly to creativity.  Poorly to composition.

With luck, these same days–like this day–still leave one satisfied.  Leave one tired.

Day 337

The Alley Bazaar

Inspired by some reading last night that only barely matched the final product of my further thoughts I intend to write thematically.  It’s likely you’ll not notice.

Late morning light warmed the sunward side of the alley bazaar.  Many of the fruitiers relocated their goods shadeward to keep them cool, but the gaps between stalls filled quickly and tight.  So, most stacked their trays and crated their wares for tomorrow.  Some few, with business elsewhere in the day were already gone.  Indecisive patrons filled the vacancies; experienced patrons heard the tempo shift: hawkers entreated the crowd more aggressively, hagglers hushed to more forgiving tones.

In the time it took to drink a final jar of warm-tea selling ceased.

Day 336