I finished Tehanu yesterday, and I've been trying to put my finger on why it affected me so much.
Obviously the writing is just breathtaking, as with other Le Guin works. I could see everything so clearly. The farm, the middle valley, Ogion's cottage, Auntie Moss, the mountain and meadows and the sea. Therru's little broken self and Tenar's dedication and frustrations. Everything was realized so vividly.
I found myself getting emotional every few pages, and I think beautiful prose can do that, but these reactions also made me think about my religious past and the things I felt were missing during that period of my life.
My religion stressed spiritual experiences as evidence of truth. You were supposed to feel a "burning in your bosom" and strong emotion when the spirit of god witnessed to you that you were hearing truth in a sermon or reading truth in the scriptures. I didn't really have those experiences, especially when reading the bible. I’m sure part of it was youth and boredom, but I think the bigger point is that a lot of it didn’t ring true. Which is one of the reasons I left religion in my 20s.
I’m not saying that a god magicked my heart to burn and tears to flow while reading Tehanu. But I think my body recognized and responded to the novel’s truths. The constant struggle that is womanhood, the quiet power of caregiving, the emptiness of power without humility and love.
The way those truths in the novel filled me reminded me of the frustration in my earlier religious life. These were the feelings I wanted to feel! What an extraordinary novel.
Le Guin was truly something else. I wish I could’ve met her.