And of course she could have gone even further - but possibly not without devolving to a frivolous fictional solipsism a la King's Dark Tower VII.īut that I feel she could have done more does not make the story she told unworthy in any way.

She does of course touch these topics, but they are explored only tangentially. The most interesting part, the part where she could have delved further I think, is the meta nature of Lavinia's conversations with 'the poet' and the implications on free will, destiny, etc. If there's anything to criticize about this book, it's that Le Guin doesn't take her ideas far enough. As usual, Le Guin's prose is nearly flawless, and her ability to convey complex ideas simply is unparalleled. It’s the stuff of legend, but communicates universal truths about humanity, both in virtues and failings.

It would make a fantastic companion read with the Aeneid, and even reading it many years after the Aeneid in my case, brought it back to life for me. It’s a scholarly work, and one that was clearly well-researched. Le Guin uses an interesting technique of having the narrator, Lavinia, communicating with poet Virgil who would live centuries later, and aware of this fact, much as the people of the day would consult oracles and abide by them. The elements of intrigue and inevitable warfare are of course present, but the perspective shift brings them more to life, and adds a layer of humanism. The result is a broader picture of life in the 8th century BC in the area around what would become Rome, even if Le Guin (as Virgil did) makes it a teeny less primitive than it may have been, as she discusses in the Afterword. In weaker hands it might have become some kind of manifesto, but Le Guin uses Lavinia to fill out the story from a woman’s perspective. It’s the second half of the Aeneid that Le Guin essentially retells in prose through Lavinia, the point at which Aeneas arrives.Little was mentioned of Lavinia in the source text, but Le Guin crafts quite a narrative around her, and to her credit, it’s completely harmonious with Virgil’s work. His descendants, so the Virgil legend goes, would found Rome. Aeneas, of course, was the Trojan prince not killed when Troy fell, escaping and traveling to Italy, after a journey ala Odysseus took him to places like Carthage where he’d meet Queen Dido. Le Guin riffs on a minor character from Virgil’s Aeneid, that of Lavinia, daughter of Latinus and eventual wife of Aeneas.

Lavinia leguin