Very Far Away from Anywhere Else

Very Far Away from Anywhere Else

4.2 7
by Ursula K. Le Guin
     
 

View All Available Formats & Editions

Owen is seventeen and smart. He knows what he wants to do with his life. But then he meets Natalie and he realizes he doesn't know anything much at all.

A slender, realistic story of a young man's coming of age, Very Far Away from Anywhere Else is one of the most inspiring novels Ursula K. Le Guin has ever published.

Overview

Owen is seventeen and smart. He knows what he wants to do with his life. But then he meets Natalie and he realizes he doesn't know anything much at all.

A slender, realistic story of a young man's coming of age, Very Far Away from Anywhere Else is one of the most inspiring novels Ursula K. Le Guin has ever published.

Editorial Reviews

Children's Literature
17-year-old Owen Griffiths feels out of place in the world. He does well in school without liking any of the subjects except math. His father has bought him a car, but he does not want kids at school to define him by what he owns. His father wants him to go to State University, his own alma mater; his mother wants him to go to State because it means he does not have to leave home. Owen has applied to MIT, and has been accepted with a full-tuition scholarship, but he simply cannot talk to his parents about school, so he puts the letter away, and decides not to think about it. Then (of course) he meets Natalie. He is riding the bus home, and she is sitting beside him. His knapsack is soaking wet and is dripping all over her. Instead of apologizing, he begins to joke. Instead of taking offense, she begins to laugh. They begin to talk seriously. She is a musician, and is planning to attend Tanglewood that summer. He tells her about MIT, and she encourages him to go. From there on, their relationship gets interesting. They really are friends, but they are physically attracted to each other. Can their friendship survive? This book is more than a standard coming-of-age novel. Owen analyzes his parents' relationship, and finds it wanting. By the end, we know that both Owen and Natalie will be fine. Highly recommended. 2004 (orig. 1976), Harcourt, Ages 12 up.
—Judy Silverman
From the Publisher
"A superb novel."—Publishers Weekly

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780547546278
Publisher:
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Publication date:
10/01/2004
Sold by:
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
144
Sales rank:
573,760
File size:
252 KB
Age Range:
12 - 17 Years

Read an Excerpt

IF YOU'D LIKE a story about how I won my basketball letter and achieved fame, love, and fortune, don't read this. I don't know what I achieved in the six months I'm going to tell about. I achieved something, all right, but I think it may take me the rest of my life to find out what.

I never won any letters for anything. When I was a little kid, I really liked touch football, the strategy of it, but being short for my age I was always a bit slow even though I was good at evasive tactics. And then when we got into high school, it all got so organized. Going out for teams and wearing uniforms and all that stuff. And people talk about it all the time. Sports are neat to do, but dull to talk about. Anyhow there won't be much about sports in this.

I am talking into a tape recorder and then typing it. I tried to just write it, but it came out all stuffy and clotted-up with words, so let's see how it goes this way. My name is Owen Thomas Griffiths. I was seventeen in November. I am still fairly short for my age-"5 7". I guess I will be short for my age when I'm forty-five, so what's the difference? It bothered me a lot when I was twelve or thirteen, but I was much shorter then compared to other kids, a genuine shrimp. At fifteen I grew six inches in eight months and felt really awful while I was doing it; my knees used to feel like the Bamboo Splinter Torture, but when it was over I was such a giant compared to what I had been that I never could really regret not going on any higher. I am average compact build and have dirty gray eyes and a lot of hair. The hair is curly, and whether I wear it short or long it sticks out all over my head. I fight it with a hairbrush every morning, and lose. I like my hair. It has a lot of willpower. However, this story is not about my hair, either.

I am always the youngest person in my class. And the youngest person in my family, being the only child. They let me into school early because I was such a bright little jerk. I have always been bright for my age. Who knows, at forty-five I may still be bright for my age. That is partly what this thing I'm telling, this story, is about. About being a bright little jerk.

It's OK, you know, up to about the sixth grade. Nobody really cares, least of all yourself. The teachers are mostly pretty nice to you, because you're easy to teach. Some of them love you for it, and give you neat books for extra reading. Some of them resent it, but they're too busy with the Behavior Problem types to have time to really make you feel lousy for being ahead of the others in math and reading. And there's always a few other kids, usually girls, who are as smart as you are, or smarter, and you and they write the class skits, and make lists for the teacher, and so on. And besides, for all the talk about how cruel little kids are, they haven't got a patch on older people for cruelty. Little kids are just dumb, the smart ones and the slow ones. They do dumb things. They say what they think. They haven't learned enough yet to say what they don't really think. That comes later, when kids begin to turn into people and find out that they are alone.

I think what you mostly do when you find you really are alone is to panic. You rush to the opposite extreme and pack yourself into groups-clubs, teams, societies, types. You suddenly start dressing exactly like the others. It's a way of being invisible. The way you sew the patches on the holes in your blue jeans becomes incredibly important. If you do it wrong you're not with it. You have to be with it. That's a peculiar phrase, you know? With it. With what? With them. With the others. All together. Safety in numbers. I'm not me. I'm a basketball letter. I'm a popular kid. I'm my friends' friend. I'm a black leather growth on a Honda. I'm a member. I'm a teen-ager. You can't see me, all you can see is us. We're safe.

And if We see You standing alone by yourself, if you're lucky we'll ignore you. If you're not lucky, we might throw rocks. Because we don't like people standing there with the wrong kind of patches on their blue jeans reminding us that we're each alone and none of us is safe.

I tried. I really did. I tried so hard it makes me sick to think about it. I did my jeans patches exactly like Bill Ebold who did everything right. I talked about baseball scores. I worked for the school paper for one term, because that was the one group that I could figure out how to get into. But none of it worked. I don't know why. Sometimes I wonder if introverts have a peculiar smell, which only extraverts are aware of.

Some kids really don't have much Me at all. They truly are part of the group. But a lot of them just act-pretend-the way I tried to. Their heart isn't really in the groups, but still they get along, they get by. I wish I could. I honestly wish I could be a good hypocrite. It doesn't hurt anybody, and it sure makes life easier. But I never could fool anybody. They knew I wasn't interested in what interested them, and they despised me for it, and I despised them for despising me. But then I also despised the few kids who didn't try to go along. In ninth grade there was this tall kid who never brushed his teeth and wore a white sports coat to school, who wanted to make friends with me. I should have been delighted; I mean, nobody had ever wanted to make friends with me before. But he kept saying things like what a drip this person was and what a dolt that one was, and although I agreed with him I didn't want to talk about it all the time, and so I despised him for being a snob. And then I despised myself for despising everybody else. Oh, it's a really neat situation to be in. You know what I mean, if you've been there.

Since I was trying hard not to be different, I didn't want to be a straight-A type; but that problem was always solved for me by gym. I wasn't any worse at gym than a lot of fellows, but I got D's because I cut it all the time because I couldn't take Mr. Thorpe. "If you can take your minds off Keats and Shelley for a while, Griffiths, you might at least stand around and watch how basketball is played." It was always Keats and Shelley-I heard him use exactly the same line to at least two other fellows. He said it with real hatred, hissing: Keatsssnssshelley, ssssss. It was stupid applied to me, since math and science is where I am good, but that hatred got me so curious I went back and read Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale" in the freshman lit text. They didn't give us any Shelley, but I looked up his collected works at the city library, and later on I bought it secondhand. So it was Mr. Thorpe teaching basketball who put me on to "Prometheus Unbound." I should be grateful. But it still didn't make third period with Mr. Thorpe any easier.

But- this is important-I never talked back. I never said anything. I could have said, "Look, Mr. Thorpe, I don't want to take my mind off Keats and Shelley, or sines and cosines, so you just go ahead and bounce your little bouncyball, OK?" Some of the kids could do that. Back in elementary school once I heard a little black seventh-grade girl tell off our math teacher, "You just get your hands off my paper, if you don't like it the way I done it, you can just stuff it!" It was pure fight-the teacher hadn't done anything to deserve it, he was just trying to teach the kid some math-but still, it was pure fight, it was courage, and I admired it. I still do. But I can't do it. I haven't got it. I don't get into fights.

I stand there and take it, till I can run. And then I run.

Sometimes I not only stand there and take it, I even smile at them and say I'm sorry.

When I feel that smile coming onto my face, I wish I could take my face off and stamp on it.

Copyright © 1976 by Ursula K. Le Guin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to the following address: Permissions Department, Harcourt, Inc., 6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

Meet the Author

Ursula K. Le Guin was born in Berkeley, California, in 1929. Among her honors are a National Book Award, five Hugo and five Nebula Awards, the Kafka Award, a Pushcart Prize, and the Harold D. Vursell Memorial Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. She lives in Portland, Oregon. www.ursulakleguin.com

Brief Biography

Hometown:
Portland, Oregon
Date of Birth:
October 21, 1929
Place of Birth:
Berkeley, California
Education:
B.A., Radcliffe College; M.A., Columbia University, 1952
Website:
http://www.ursulakleguin.com

Customer Reviews

Average Review:

Write a Review

and post it to your social network

     

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See all customer reviews >

Very Far Away from Anywhere Else 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 7 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I got an old copy of this book in my English teacher's class. Let it be our little secret that I took it without asking. I took this because summer was about to start and I just wanted a quick read. I finished this book in one night. It is very short. But nothing short of a great novel. I related to this story a lot. More than likely because I am 17 just like the main character. But it touches many issues and feelings. I loved this novella. I am definitely going to read it soon. And you should read it too if you're looking for a nice story about coming of age and reason.
Mindy Buker More than 1 year ago
I really enjoyed this book, being a seventeen year old also on the verge of college life and "the real world," where one has to choose to live in the fog or to seek the truth. It was a really short read that somewhat reminded me of Catcher in the Rye. I recommend it to anyone with a couple hours to spare. The characters were excellently developed and the storyline was simple but engaging. Great find!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great read for anyone wanting a short book but a big story.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago