Only in silence the word,
Only in dark the light,
Only in dying life:
Bright the hawk's flight on the empty sky.

The girls and I saw Tales from Earthsea a couple of weeks ago. I was worried that it would be rubbish; there's always that concern when your favourite literature is transferred to another medium. I was relieved to find that it wasn't terrible. It wasn't great, mind you - I'm not sure why they cut 'n' shut two of the books together or why they transferred just about everything to dry land. And why were all the characters so bloody white? But they did seem to get the feel of the piece about right.

It's got me re-reading what will always be the Earthsea trilogy in my heart, though there's actually now five novels and a book and a bit of short stories. Sheer poetry.

Its not that usual for me to like this kind of stuff. Now, this is a big admission for a nerd to make, but with a few exceptions I hate the whole fantasy genre. It tends to be derivative, cliché ridden, populated with 2 dimensional characters, and horribly predictable. Most of it could have been written by a half smart computer program.

The exceptions? Earthsea, The Lord of the Rings, Gormenghast, and His Dark Materials. Oh, and I didn't mind a spot of Midkemia in my youth, not if I didn't want anything to exercise the mind too hard.

Talking of His Dark Materials, I'll be trying to get to The Golden Compass this weekend if I can too. I'll let you know.