Shadow-Unboxing (or: Why I'm totally fine with the map of Earthsea)

"To let understanding stop at what cannot be understood is a high attainment. 

Those who cannot do it will be destroyed on the lathe of heaven." 

                                                                                                                 Chang Tzu

 Try telling that to Dangermouse.

 And still on the subject of maps...

 This is the ball-ache that greets any reader opening Ursula K. Le Guin's "A Wizard of Earthsea". For much of the book, it appears to be an example of exactly the kind of map-at-the-beginning-of-a-book I talked about dreading in yesterday's post – the kind you're meant to constantly refer back to while following the hero's journey, an impediment to reading, crammed with unnecessary detail, imprisoning upon the page a world which the act of reading is supposed to liberate. But Le Guin's brilliant, and clearly knew what she was doing, because SPOILERS! the book's climax takes place off the map. It's only beyond the edge of the world that Ged can name his shadow, and – like Dangermouse in "Custard" – let reality catch up with him. The map isn't here to show us where the hero went, but to show us, physically in fact, what he had to escape. It's an excellent way of depicting magic. I'm guessing. I'm very glad I re-read it.

  

When does this happen in the book though? 

I still do not remember this happening in the book.

 "Every story must make its own rules. And obey them." I was inspired to read more Le Guin because of an excellent documentary no longer available on iplayer but still viewable here. And I haven't read any of the other Earthsea books yet. Nor worked out what the point of the map at the beginning of "The Dispossessed" was either so, you know, maybe I'm wrong and she just liked maps.

 One other takeaway – Character after character offers to tell Ged the name of his shadow and save him his journey, but it's clear he's meant to turn them down, get lost, and work it out for himself, which – taken with what I remember of "The Lathe of Heaven" – leads me to ask: Does anyone know if Ursula K. Le Guin had a beef with therapy?