- Mên-an-Tol, The Nine Maidens, Dingdong Mine and Lanyon Quoit
- Castle An Dinas and Chysauster Village
I suspected as much from the obscurity of the work. But as I love Le Guin's writing and live in Cornwall, I wanted to read it, and the chances of getting hold of it without buying it seemed poor, so I bought it anyway. I was not disappointed. The description is very beautiful and very Cornish, and also, oddly, reminded me a little of Rocannon's World.
It would not be fair to quote the whole thing, as it is still in print (on demand) but here are some of my favorite bits:
... Here's a grave turned inside out.
They set the stone slabs up, set the great roofstone on
Laid the bodies in the room of rock
piled the earth all over in a mound
a rounded barrow. And grass and gorse and heather
grew over all, no doubt. But roots
have trouble holding, in a wind
that blows across five thousand miles of sea
for twenty centuries...
Chûn is a name
in a tongue that no one speaks now
but rocks and larks
... and up we go
and find nine maidens where the map says none
old maidens, low and lumpy; some have fallen
some got staggering drunk in 99 B.C.
Small maidens, very old, not saying much...
...All quiet now, up here, all gone to grass;
the tin is mined out; the miners have gone home
The Isles of Tin! The Misty Isles!
"It was not certain" Caesar says "That Britannia
existed, till I went there"
Nothing is certain, Caesar bach.
That 'nothing is certain, Caesar bach' is lovely. The viewpoint switch indicated by one word of Welsh, the way she jokes with the Roman diminutive/ insult 'brittunculus' without actually mentioning it... Awesome.
And then this about the little second-third century abandoned village at Chysauster, where she really has captured the place perfectly:
Although you kneel beside the little hearths
you cannot hear the arguments,
the stories or the snores on winter nights.
But if you sat a while in the round room
you might hear, I don't know, you might -
a woman singing to a sleepy child.
A woman singing softly. Now and then
The laughter of my children
far off among the ways among the stones
The laughter of her children
And the wind as sweet as honey in the mouth.