My lord, this is a very fine book.
Ms. Le Guin does not write one word more than necessary, but within the laconic toolset she writes a story.
There is Owen, and there is Natalie. Owen is intelligent but not quite smart. Natalie is talented but not able to communicate her vision.
They stumble into each other, part, and come together more fiercely.
They learn that they themselves must learn who they are.
It is all there in 90 or so pages with generous margins, but it is _all there_.
The only thing that keeps me from despair as a writer when I read Ms. Le Guin’s works is that at least I don’t have to try to retell _this_ story, because it is complete and whole and good.