It was the late 1980s. I was at university, wrestling with the question of what I wanted to do with my life. I'd always loved writing, but grown-up literary fiction didn't seem interested in the things I enjoyed most: great big mythic stories, full of thrilling action, unforgettable characters, powerful ideas and beautiful prose. But as I read Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea books, I realised that there was a place for this kind of story, and it was in fiction for young readers.
Earthsea showed me that children's literature could be great literature. It could use fantastical elements to communicate deeply resonant thoughts about the real world, and our place in it. For these tales of wizards and dragons seemed to be informed as much by Jung, Taoism and environmentalism as by JRR Tolkien (who wrote The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings). They had things to say about philosophy and spirituality; about the interconnectedness of all existence. They contained everything I wanted a book to contain.
Also, I couldn't help noticing that the wizards in Earthsea were all people of colour. Here were stories in which black, brown and red-skinned people were the heroes. This was something I'd never seen before, and as someone from a Middle Eastern background, I found it extraordinary.
I started to read the science fiction novels Ursula Le Guin wrote for adults. The Dispossessed became a key book for me; I still re-read it every few years. It has aliens, starships, mind-bending technologies, but they're all part of a deeper system of images and ideas; part of a vision of life, and how it might be lived. Its portrayal of a society built on anarchist principles remains inspirational, as does its depiction of relationships built on equality. The Dispossessed doesn't just inspire me as a writer; it's a book I aspire to live by.
It took her many years to write it. If I hadn't known that, I might have given up during the writing of Phoenix, which took me seven years in the end. But her perseverance taught me that even the greatest writers have their struggles. Books don't just happen. They have to be made, word by word.
And Le Guin has made so many. Even now in her 80s, she is still going, producing work of amazing quantity and quality. I haven't even mentioned Always Coming Home yet. A kind of future anthropology, it's not an easy read, requiring much from the reader – but it's uniquely rewarding. I know of nothing else in literature like it.
She is also a brilliant critic, as good a reader as she is a writer, while in Steering The Craft, she's given us one of the few truly indispensable books on creative writing. Across all these forms, she is a model to me of how to do your work: modestly, steadily, but to the very highest standards. I have never met her, but I wish that I could, just to say thank you. Because without her inspiration, there is no way that I would be doing what I do.
