(no subject)

[karanguni]

I'm trying to process Le Guin. I'm not usually one to get super emotional when people whom I've never met have passed away. But reading Le Guin *changed* me, for the better, and in some core and fundamental way. There was something difficult but true about her hard-nosed realities wrapped in layers of romanticism and lyricism that woke something in my brain. I wouldn't be the writer that I am without her - but I also wouldn't be the person that I am. I read her essays with equal joy that I read her fiction. The poetry that she quoted opened windows in me that I didn't even know existed. Even as I've grown and changed and evolved, somehow the things I learned from her - things I cherished, things I disagreed with, and to have had both those feelings about someone's work is incredible to me - have evolved and changed and grown with me.

I am a tree in this forest that Le Gun seems to have planted in the hearts and minds of her readers. I guess today I sway with the rest of the forest as the gust of her wind - irreplaceable, irreproducable - ripples through us.