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Ursula Le Guin has died, sadly but not unexpectedly. Locus has an obituary, which is reasonably good though I disagree with them on what constitutes nonfiction (Dancing at the Edge of the World could be shelved there, or as poetry or fiction) but Always Coming Home, which I love enough to have had a heyiya-if tattooed on my arm, is fiction, whether or not it counts as a novel.
The New York Times obituary has more biographical detail (but a limit on how many articles they want to show you per month).
Unceasing, unending, unobstructed,
open, ongoing, incoming,
ever, ever, ever.
The New York Times obituary has more biographical detail (but a limit on how many articles they want to show you per month).
Unceasing, unending, unobstructed,
open, ongoing, incoming,
ever, ever, ever.
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One year, on or a little after the Spring Equinox, I sent her as a gift a poem I had written. In the letter, I wrote "Wherever they are, the people of the Na Valley are dancing the World tonight."
I calligraphed the letter and poem. The ampersand was a modified heyiya-if.
She replied with a postcard that I still have: "It is good to be understood."
(Both your links go to the Locus obituary. I would swear that a few minutes ago one went to the Times one.)
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I don't know what's going on with those links, but I'll see if I can fix it.
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Bright the hawk's flight on the empty sky.
Thank you, Ms. Leguin. So much.
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I have been wondering, not seriously, about sometime getting a tattoo, but I didn't know of what. Now it's just a bit more serious, and the question is pretty much answered.