An Evening With Ursula K. Le Guin
Outside the air rippled in the late afternoon heat. Midwest summers get this bad, they do, but we’ve had 95 degree-plus weather now for going on three weeks. Stepping into the air conditioned comfort of the Daniel Boone Regional Library was almost sleep-inducing.
But there was business to attend. Tonight, the 26th of July, was to be a signal event. My interview with Ursula K. Le Guin.
Very SFnal, this. A double-sided flatscreen monitor with a ray-gun style camera on top facing the almost throne-like chair in which I would sit for the evening. On a wall screen to my right Ursula’s image would be projected. I had them switch off the monitor facing me that showed me. Distracting. Besides, it seemed backwards. A blank screen was best.
About fifteen minutes before time, she appeared. We chatted while sound levels were adjusted and framing was set. There was an audience in my room, she had a couple of technicians, a microphone, and a glass of water.
At seven on the dot, an announcement was made that the discussion would be between Ms. Le Guin and myself, without questions from the audience, then, after an awkward moment (we hadn’t actually discussed a signal to begin) I read off the introduction and started talking.
It’s rather hazy now. I admit I was a bit nervous. There are people on the planet who intimidate me, who I hold in awe. Not, often, who one might expect. Ursula K. Le Guin. The name has resonance for me all the way back to…well, I remember when the Ace Specials of The Wizard of Earthsea and The Left Hand of Darkness were brand new. And the book we were discussing tonight, The Dispossessed, is simply one of the finest novels of the 20th Century.
But I remember her smiling and, a couple of times, laughing, and we talked with only a minor pause or two for nearly 55 minutes, and for a space it felt very comfortable, even if we were discussing literary theory and anthropology and so forth. I had planned it out fairly well and did not quite make it to the full hour, but no one seemed disappointed, and I have a warm memory now that I will cherish.
Sometimes this writing life is really very fine.
