Arha is the reincarnated Priestess of The Tombs, delivered into the world by the power of the Nameless Ones and brought to the Kargish island deserts in Atuan to preside over her underground domain. She is watched over by others: eunuchs and other Priestesses more knowledgeable in the dark powers of The Nameless Ones than she. Arha, whose name means “the eaten one,” spends her time dancing before the moon, thinking of punishments for the Godking’s sacrificial prisoners, and paying obeisance before the Empty Throne.
She does not remember who she used to be or more than fragmented whispers of memories from a time when she was very little and lived a very different life with a mother, a father, and many brothers and sisters. She does not even remember her true name until a strange man enters the Undertomb, a place absolutely forbidden for men to enter. Arha is curious about him and the weird little light on his staff, the sorcery often scoffed and spoken ill of by the other women. She watches him in fascination, trapped as he is, until she discovers what he’s really after. He is there to steal the greatest treasure of Atuan, the thing which must never be taken from the tombs, let alone out into the world, but he is determined and cannot do it alone.
In The Tombs of Atuan, Le Guin has switched entirely from writing a book about Ged’s coming of age, to a series that
explores the development of females as well. Arha is apparently outmatched by her cohort of adult priestesses who have mastered the fine arts of their profession and dole it out in pieces to Arha. Her reincarnation perpetuates a cycle of power that lays largely with the likes of Thar and Kossil, whom must always “remind” Arha of things she said in the past—in her previous lives—and of the ways of the labyrinth and tombs she now rules over. There isn’t much self-exploration since the nature of Arha’s destiny lays within the hands of older women. Any initiative or independent action on her part would undermine the tradition. Her interest in Ged is therefore compounded by the scale of her actions: helping him stay alive is tantamount to treason. The Nameless Ones will and do become angry, but Ahra is very brave to continue despite their displeasure.
She’s very young—about as young as Ged was when we were first introduced to him in A Wizard of Earthsea. Ged, by comparison is no longer a boy, but a fully grown and competent wizard. As an aside, I found it interesting that any earlier distinction that may have been drawn between wizards, mages, or sorcerers have lost all meaning. All are one in the same profession with the terms being exchanged loosely to describe all wielders of magic trained in the ways foreign to the Priestesses of Atuan. In any event, Arha is young; Ged is not a child anymore. She is frequently referenced in in terms of her childlike nature and her naivete, especially in comparison to Ged’s experience as a sea-salted wizard.
Their relationship develops sweetly. Arha is unable to overcome her curiosity, even as she attempts to assert the duties of her profession—she cannot bring herself to punish or even kill Ged, whom she knows as Sparrowhawk. Seeing Ged so much more seasoned than when he was last seen at the end of A Wizard of Earthsea, combined with Arha’s wavering confidence in the face of his perseverance I began to understand that he was yet another figure of power in her life, even one whom could call the Priestess of the Tombs out from her domain by discovering her true name.
But Arha saves Ged just the same. She nurtures him in the dark womb of her tombs underground, caring for him as she listens to his stories. In the end it is both that are freed, both that escape, but only one is reborn and brought into the world renewed with the knowledge of her true name and the refreshing, frightening feeling of the light after so long being kept in the dark. While I feel Arha ultimately replaced several figures of authority for another (and this, a man), it’s very telling that Ged reveals he cannot stay with her forever. What he brings Arha is true freedom. She must discover independence on her own.
Ged also brings Arha, a light-skinned young girl, into the larger ethnic world, away from the sheltered life and orchestrated beliefs of the priestesses. They would have Arha believe in the wrongness of wizards, throwing epithets to the profession as easily as they do their darker skin. Aligning the two (profession and skin tone) is quite monstrous, but Ahra comes to understand the limitations of others like Kossil, even warming to Ged’s comforting darkness not for the sake of darkness, but as a part of Ged, whom she comes to trust. His example is much more powerful than any uneducated warning the priestesses may have given her before.
One last thing I want to mention, but am unsure where to best place it, is a brief discussion of the tombs as a metaphor for the female womb, and even as the female body. There is a sacredness there that Arha is warned must be untouched by a man (eunuchs, castrated, are fine). It’s also presumed that anyone seeking entrance who is not permitted does so to steal or harm the great treasure hidden at the end of the labyrinth. I may be reading a bit too much into that, but I felt it was something to be noted. Ged (a male) rescues Arha (a female) not just by successfully making it to the treasure, but by having her lead him to it. They work together. And he even proves his good intentions by showing her that he only wants to make things whole again: to make as one that which has been hidden away for so long in the care of and separated by the miles between this male and that female. I think whether I make a successful case or not, it’s an interesting avenue that I know I’ll be thinking about even now, after the book has been closed and put away.
As the second in the series, I think The Tombs of Atuan did well. While a large part of Ged’s life is still a mystery, I ultimately found myself not minding the in between. Yes, Ged’s story is and probably will continue to be told in a detached manner, one befitting the oration of a man as a legend handed down through generations, but for whatever reason, that doesn’t bother me. Arha’s point of view was personal and welcome enough change for me.
Release Date: June 25, 1970 originally; September 1, 2001 Simon Pulse edition; January 1, 2005 SFBC edition
Reviewed Format: SFBC hardcover omnibus
DISCUSSION!
Did you review the book? Let me know and your link could be the first.
- Calico Reaction’s review
- Lisa’s review
- Shannon’s review at Giraffe Days
A Few Rules:
- Be respectful.
- Rude or inconsiderate comments will be deleted without question.
- No vulgarities allowed.
- Be considerate. If you have read the rest of the series, avoid posting spoilers.
Have you missed a book for the June challenge so far?
- A Wizard of Earthsea Review/Discussion
- The Tombs of Atuan
- The Farthest Shore Review/Discussion
May challenge books are here. July challenge books are here. August challenge books are here.
Remember: have fun! We’re all here because we love to read. Discuss anything about the book that comes to mind.The topics I’ve written below are only for consideration and to encourage discussion. They do not necessarily need to be answered.
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Topics for Discussion:
- How did you feel about the switch in perspective—from Ged to Arha—especially since we are far more in Arha’s mind than we ever were in Ged’s?
- Do you think The Tombs of Atuan shows a natural progression for Ged as a wizard or was the jump in years and experience too much distance between this and what we read in A Wizard of Earthsea?
- What do you think of Arha and the role she may or may not play in the future? Do you think freeing her was an example of Ged’s talent as a wizard (calling forth a human being from her domain, beneath the surface of the earth, by deriving her true name), symbolic of something else, or just a gesture of a kind heart?
- What did you think of the presumption that anyone who wants to go into the tombs is there to steal or do harm to the treasure? Is this metaphorical to you or easily dismissed as something else?
First, the review: http://calico-reaction.livejournal.com/172916.html
Thank you for discussing the metaphor of the labyrinths, as that was one element I’d forgotten about and threw out a halfhearted thought out toward the end of my review, but I really like your interpretation. I suspect that will stick with me should I ever re-read this book, which I intend to do, one day in the future. Excellent, excellent interpretation.
Regarding your fourth question, I have to say that I read all the rites of priest and priestess-hood quite cynically, and that while the powers were real (as Ged acknowledged), they were not meant to be worshiped. I think Kossil and the other priests and priestesses were beyond that: they did not believe in the powers, the worship was as empty as the throne in which they claimed to worship the Nameless Ones. All that to say that I think the assumption that any stranger who trespasses in the Tombs is seen as a thief because, treasure or not, a stranger would be able to shed light upon the lies of the rites and the religion itself, and god forbid that happen, because then the power held by priest and priestess would become moot. That’s my thought. It’s not the treasure that’s so important (if it were, why’s it rotting with the Nameless Ones?), but rather, the metaphor of what the theft represents.
I can’t talk much about the first two questions, because I’ve already started THE FARTHEST SHORE (I want some buffer time between it and TEHANU) and I think I know what Le Guin’s up to. That said, after reading THE TOMBS OF ATUAN, I did and do believe that these books are meant to be read as “The Chronicles of” or more so “The Tales of…” and so are not meant to be taken in chronological order. While reading them such is fulfilling, because we have all the characterization of previous books to back us up, I think the point is simply reading them, no order necessarily intended. Which is why we get a book from Ged’s pov, and then one from Tenar’s. Both involve Ged’s adventures, but are told from a different POV, much like a storyteller would tell the story to those he/she meets. Ged’s rite from his POV is his most important story, whereas we get the Tale of the Ring from Tenar’s, because that’s the most important part of Ged’s life FOR HER.
Though, I might change that theory as I read more in Earthsea.
I’ve posted your link, thanks! I might not have time to read the review for another few days, but it shall be read and commented on!
I think there was a lot of cynicism surrounding all of the words and meanings the Priestesses were telling Arha. They were just pulling the wool over her eyes (that much was very clear at the end, especially with Ged’s speech), but I’d like to think there may be another layer of meaning here, a subtext that speaks for the metaphor of the Tombs as part of Arha’s femininity. Something that transcends that immediate cynicism.
But I do agree: a lot of what was “sacred” was obvious deception on the part of the adults. With a name like “Empty Throne” that’s where my first thoughts were led, too!
Ah! You’ve already started the third book. I’m not sure if I think the books are read best in chronological order or not. I do think they’re loosely tied together as the collected and varied tales of Ged, examples of his wizardry in Earthea (like all legends, we get bits and pieces put together that may or may not have gone exactly as written). That’s probably why I didn’t mind the lack of perspective from Ged in this book. The books aren’t meant to do that.
In any event, I do agree with the point you make here! I think I’d read another review where someone was bothered by our narrative distance from Ged and so, that got me thinking about the lack of a real Ged POV in this one.
I talk about whether or not the religion of Atuan fully deserves cynicism, so I’ll wait for you to read the review (take your time!) before embarking on that discussion.
I read quite a few of negative reviews on Amazon, many from people who’d read the book LONG after publication (like we are) and may be more conditioned to want a fantasy series where we follow the same cast POV for several books. At any rate, I didn’t mind, but I think I knew what I was getting into anyway.
My review: http://starmetaloak.blogspot.com/2010/06/review-tombs-of-atuan-by-ursula-k-le.html
1. I think the switch really made the story more captivating to me. I liked the first novel, but I wasn’t really connected to Ged, just interested in his journey. In the end I think this also made her transformation a lot more satisfying than Ged’s was because it was more intimate.
4. I think this idea was propagated by the cult in order to keep their treasure safe. By claiming that anyone entering wants to steal the treasures it ensures the priestesses will keep it safe and also prosecute any outsiders who enter. I think this is a place built on fear, and whether it is the dark powers who are creating this fear in order to sustain themselves or purely the humans wanting to hold on to their treasure, who knows. Like I mention in my review, the dark powers are nearly non-existent in what we experience. It could be that they died off (maybe not completely) a long time ago and it was the humans who were keeping the cult going.
Thank you for the link! I’ve posted it, but may not get around to reading your review until later in the week.
By the end, the intentions of the Priestesses were very transparent, especially because Ged tells Arha “this is how it is.” What I was wondering was whether more people would consider the idea of stealing or harm coming to the tombs as a metaphor that transcends the basic cruelties and manipulations of Kossil and the others.
If we are thinking it is metaphorical, are we going with the idea that the tombs are representative of the womb? That could work since no men are allowed down there (unless they are eunuchs), and if they were there, it would be because they want to steal the treasure. So, the tombs could represent the female womb and any man seen trying to enter are painted as thieves and/or bad people (maybe this could be a larger metaphor for sex).
I just wonder what message that brings to the reader. Did Tenar interpret it this way as well? I gravitated to my first interpretation because I thought that their fears were made out to be true: they feared a man entering the tombs and tried to train their priestess to punish any who would. In the end Ged, a man, does enter and cause the destruction of the site. That’s why I think they used the fear tactic to encourage Tenar and any other priestess to distrust any man who entered because perhaps they knew it would end badly for them.
That is the idea I mentioned in the review—the tombs as the womb, or symbolic of female sexuality in general.
I think the interpretation the book tells us, that there’s a lot of wool being pulled over Tenar’s eyes for the sake of the other Priestesses keeping their power, is what she ultimately winded up walking away knowing. I think the one I thought of in addition to this was subtle and perhaps Tenar may realize it on an unconscious level. Although, I think the women knew it would end badly if anyone entered the tombs because it would reveal their secrets, not necessarily because they knew the place would literally cave in on them.
Then again, I have no proof at the moment whether Tenar’s reactions can support the other metaphor I found or not… I’d have to re-read it a little more closely for that!
I like the change of POV. In the first book we get to see Ged become who he is because of his true name. In this book we see Tenar lose herself by being called another name. Forgeting her past and becoming the Arha. And I think it’s interesting that both characters find themself by confronting and overcome the dark. As far as the religion goes. I took as the danger of substituting superstition and love of power over their humanity and the power of love and forgiveness. I enjoyed this book but I still liked the first one a little more..
Names are very important in both books. And you’re right! The dark is also a continuing theme, which I’m thinking may (along with names) be in the third book as well.
You’ll be reading the third one with us, too, right?
Yes I am . I’m starting it now. And since I don’t want to spoil anything I’ll save my comments about the role of darkness for the third book. Thanks again for such an enjoyable discussion. .
I should be thanking all of you! I’m glad to have so many people interested in these books to come here and discuss them with me.
I’ll be reading The Farthest Shore this weekend. June is turning out to be a very good month for the challenge!
I somehow had the feeling that Tenar had been waiting for him. She had been reincarnated many times and had never been tempted to help any of the prisoners or wanting to leave herself (not as far as we know anyway). It’s not until she meets Ged that she is tempted. She even knew what happened to the ring. Even if she had found it in the treasure room before Ged came, would she have known what it was? Probably not. So why was it important that she knew the story?
I hadn’t considered that Tenar might be waiting for him. Although in that case, it would assign more Fate to their meeting than not. I think there were many things that all came together fortuitously in the way that characters need for good fiction to happen.
I’m not sure if Tenar could have been intentionally waiting for Ged, though. She is just a random girl, plucked from her home so the other Priestesses could perpetuate their farce and keep their power. Ged showed her that much at least. Whatever otherworldly knowledge she’s “supposed” to remember is really just told to her or learned new again as she explores the underground caverns for herself. But it’s very interesting to think about!
Hmm, yeah, I don’t think Tenar was intentionally waiting for Ged to show up. Maybe I should have said Arha seemed to be waiting for someone. I don’t see why else she had to learn the story of the ring.
Why did Tenar learn it when Kossil wasn’t around? (I think Thar told her before she passed away?)
Well, that just stood out to me but maybe I’m just reading into things too much, haha.
Don’t worry! Even if you are (and I am not saying that you are), it’s fun having others to discuss the book with.
My review’s up: “http://www.giraffedays.com/?p=3537
I had to laugh when you mentioned the tombs as metaphor for the womb – only because I’d just written about Arha being described as an empty vessel! I think on one hand, yes, caves and other holes do tend to get linked in with the womb, but I actually hope not in this case (not deliberately) because it was also a place of oppressive evil – and I get quite stirred up when I come across references to the womb as something evil! I honestly think Le Guin would be aghast at the idea of such a connection. But it is definitely food for thought. Will keep thinking
Thanks! I’ll put your link up.
I thought of my interpretation thinking in terms of the other Priestesses orchestrating the evil associated with the Tombs to increase their power and keep Arha under control. From that perspective, it made sense to me. They were the ones that told Arha men were forbidden, they were the ones that told her bad things would happen should she act otherwise. So if the womb is seen in evil in any way (and I did not think in that direction at all, I actually saw it as misunderstood and grossly misconstrued) it’s because Ahra was mislead to see it that way. As our narrator, we too became misled until Ged convinced her otherwise.
Interesting. Yes I can see that. Either way, it’s all about control isn’t it. A common theme, controlling women and women’s sexuality.
It is and it’s very interesting to notice it here. Others have mentioned that these books were written earlier than Le Guin’s more feminist works, but do you know if she had actually begun taking those things into consideration for The Tombs of Atuan? I’d be curious if she did, although I think the themes we touched on here are also rooted in the context of the time it was written. All very interesting ideas.