Extremely metal in the way only an older person talking to you about the inescapable nature of death can be.

The Other Wind is a strange mix of the everyday (the agony of loss is made vivid here, as are the innumerable pratfalls of diplomacy) and the elaborately fantastical (the plot hinges on the representatives of various imaginary cultures discussing the details of the afterlife). This means that you may find yourself wondering what level various aspects of the story are operating on towards the end: "Is her presence here significant or was Le Guin just carried away with her character?" "Does this work as a metaphor or is it just a cool thing to say about dragons?" and so on.

Ultimately this complexity enriches the reading experience more than it hinders it. After all, if you're going to write about what it means to give up control, you probably need a bit of complexity to stop yourself getting carried away on the winds of your own argument.