A Wizard of Earthsea

This morning I finished the first novel of Ursula K. LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy. I was enchanted by the tale, and at the same time mystified by how LeGuin pulled it off. She broke many of the conventions that are supposed to result in an excellent fantasy novel. For example:

1. Telling the story from a third person omniscient point of view: while the majority of the narrative draws the reader into protagonist Ged's actions, thoughts, and feelings, surprising p.o.v. leaps occur when we see the thoughts of other characters, or when the all-knowing voice of the narrator tells us what will happen to Ged in the future.
2. Skimming over a long, consecutive timeline: LeGuin covered nineteen years of Ged's life in a 144-page novel. Compare that to a Tolkein book, which may refer to events in the past, but follows a very tight narrative timeline. Compare to Harry Potter (a fair comparison since young Ged goes to wizarding school). Ten months of Harry's life result in door-stoppers.
3. Handful of characters: there is only one character who matters in this book, and that is Ged. Mentors, one friend, a rival, and two young women are fleeting presences in Ged's life. They come and go, subtly altering the course of his journey. Yet only three very special characters make a second appearance. Compare this to Jordan and Tolkein, whose cast of characters is so vast and intricate that a special glossary is included to help readers keep track of them.
4. Protagonist already knows his power: Ged may have a lot to learn, but he knows he can use magic before his adventure begins. There is no magical revelation of his true nature, no shock or adjustment as he comes to terms with his new-found power. Ged is no hobbit stepping up to the plate, no Daenerys Targaryen unaware she has inherited the power of her ancestors, no Harry Potter taken aback to learn he is a wizard, no Rand shocked and terrified to learn that he can touch the Source.
   

Reading the opening pages ofA Wizard of Earthsea (The Earthsea Cycle, Book 1), I was delighted by the setting: a world almost entirely water, with tiny, isolated islands of land. I had fun looking through the maps and exploring what made this world different than my own. But I was quite concerned how I would begin to identify with a young man whose childhood history skimmed by in passages of exposition illuminated by brief scenes of narration. But Wizard of Earthsea was a moving adventure, worthy of the comparisons to Tolkein touted on the back cover. So how did LeGuin do it?

She used rules- not rules about narrative style or fantasy convention, but rules about magic.

You see, magic is not something you are born with or born without. It isn't something that you study, or something that you master. Magic is inherent in everything, as natural to every rock, every tree, every soaring sparrow hawk, as the waves that lap the rocky beaches of Earthsea. Magic is what created the world, it is the essence of anything that exists; and anything that exists can be called upon by its true name- its name in the Old Speech of the dragons- to make the fantastic happen.

A mage, or wizard, or a simple village witch is a special person with the ability to call things by their True Name. The ability to stir the wind, create an illusion, or even transfigure an illusion into something of substance, depends on the depth of the wizard's knowledge of Old Speech. The use of magic to physically alter reality carries with it heavy consequences that may drastically disturb the delicate balance of reality.

It is by establishing these rules of the magical world that LeGuin draws the reader into Ged's journey. Young Ged is goaded into making some bad choices at a point in his career when he has more power than wisdom. His struggle with the consequences results in a gripping story that plays poetically and emotionally through the natural laws of magic of Earthsea.