She was 88 years old and she knew it was coming, and of course my sorrow is for myself and my own loss and not for a woman who, after a lifetime of good work fighting for what she believed, died loved. On Monday, January 22, 2018, she passed away. Last week, I lived in the same world as Ursula Le Guin, a grandmaster of science fiction who accepted awards by decrying capitalism and seemed, with every breath, to speak of the better worlds we can create. Today I don’t like that part of the story because… I don’t feel ready.
I’ve never liked it because it felt clichéd and because I want to see intergenerational struggle better represented in fiction.
I’ve never liked the part of the story when the mentor figure dies and the young heroes say they aren’t ready to go it alone, that they still need her.
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