I've started writing cat limericks to my brother, one each month. So far I've sent him one, and I just wrote the other one to send him next week:

There once was a cat in Philly
Who was so incredibly silly
That when he me-owed
It came out as bow-wow
And frightened the dogs willy-nilly.

And this month's:

A hair from a cat named Newman
Floated up and got caught in a crosswind.
It traveled the sphere
In under a year
And wound up in the mouth of his human.

Part X

Meanwhile, Sarah was dealing with her own unwanted suitor.

“Let me (#140 verb) into your eyes and (#141 verb) your silken skin,” the (#18 villain) purred into her ear as he spun her gracefully on the balcony. The light of a full (#109 light source) shone overhead and struck jewels from Sarah’s tail as they danced.

She grimaced and wished she had a (#142 weapon) to clobber him with. Maybe she could flatter him and distract him from her and his plans that night. He was awfully arrogant. It was a plan.

“Oh, my (#143 term of endearment),” she said in a syrupy voice. “You (#144 verb) me tonight. Please tell me more of your (#145 noun) and how you defeated it with a (#146 noun),” she said breathlessly and fluttered her (#147 plural body part) at him.

He blinked in surprise at her change of heart, and his chest swelled with pride. “Well, it isn’t all that (#148 adjective) a story—“ Sarah (#149 –ed verb) at him with big eyes “—but if you’ll come with me to the (#150 room), my (#151 term of endearment), I’ll be happy to regale you with my exploits.”

He led her by the (#152 body part) through a door while she sighed in relief and hoped she could think of a (#153 noun) in the meantime.


********************

Part X

Meanwhile, Sarah was dealing with her own unwanted suitor.

“Let me run into your eyes and flash your silken skin,” the Winston purred into her ear as he spun her gracefully on the balcony. The light of a full flashlight shone overhead and struck jewels from Sarah’s tail as they danced.

She grimaced and wished she had a sword to clobber him with. Maybe she could flatter him and distract him from her and his plans that night. He was awfully arrogant. It was a plan.

“Oh, my baby doll,” she said in a syrupy voice. “You find me tonight. Please tell me more of your martini and how you defeated it with a Popple,” she said breathlessly and fluttered her diaphragm at him.

He blinked in surprise at her change of heart, and his chest swelled with pride. “Well, it isn’t all that nutty a story—“ Sarah ate at him with big eyes “—but if you’ll come with me to the bedroom, my lovely, I’ll be happy to regale you with my exploits.”

He led her by the back through a door while she sighed in relief and hoped she could think of a poster in the meantime.

Part IX

They swam toward the (#109 light source) for a couple hours, but it never seemed to grow any bigger. After a little longer, the two stopped for a break.

“There must be some trick to this,” Rose gasped, out of breath.

“This (#18 villain) may have magical (#125 plural noun) that shorten distances,” the ducky wheezed, squeaking a little with exertion.

“Is there a way we can get one of these (#125 plural noun) or catch a ride with a humpback or something?” Rose asked.

“Hmm,” the ducky thought, “I saw an old, (#126 adjective) shipwreck awhile back. Those usually have some informative creatures.”

By “informative creatures,” Rose learned, the ducky meant “seedy undersea tavern scourge.”

“Good thing I just turned twenty-one,” she grumbled as the stench of alcohol and (#127 smell) washed over her at the entrance.

Electric eels flashed neon (#128 color) over the bar, proclaiming, “(#129 advertising slogan)”. Buxom (#130 plural sea animal) saucily served drinks to patrons who hunched over their tankards, eye stalks darting suspiciously as they played a game of (#131 game). A thin tune rose over the low buzz of conversation from a tired-looking (#132 sea animal) with a (#133 musical instrument) in the corner, and two muscled sharks glared menacingly from either side of the bar.

Hesitating, Rose followed the ducky to the bar and jumped when the bartender slammed a (#134 drink) in front of her. The ducky was already sipping from a (#135 strong drink) and chatting with a veil-covered fish next to him.

“Hey, (#136 compliment/noun form),” a voice growled as a gray fin slapped the bar.

Rose looked up to see a lean gray shark grinning toothily at her. The bartender shoved a tankard against the gray fin and fled to the other side of the bar.

“Hi,” she said weakly.

The shark took a big gulp of his drink and leaned closer, peering lasciviously at her. “You mythologicals sure look (#137 adjective) in person,” he grinned.

“Thanks,” Rose said uncomfortably and glanced away, twirling a strand of hair nervously around her finger.

“Say,” he continued, wrapping a fin around her waist, “I got this nice coral reef, (#138 adjective) view, not too far away, where you and I could, you know, shake a little fin….”

Eyes widening, Rose tried to wiggle loose from his fin. “Maybe another time,” she tried to explain. “See, my friend and I here just came for a moment, and we’re leaving in just a moment for this really important thing we have to go to in just a moment…” she trailed off as the fin tightened and pulled her closer.

“What friend?” the shark breathed into her face. Rose stared in terror at his gleaming teeth.

“*hiccup*” the ducky squawked beside them, “(#139 song lyric) quack *hiccup*.” With a loud squeak, the ducky fell off his stool.

The shark threw back his head and laughed. Rose took the opportunity to scoot farther away, but a gray fin caught a lock of hair.

“Now why are you really here?” the shark asked, no less menacing but now a little calmer.

Rose winced at the tug but admitted, “The (#18 villain) stole my friend Sarah, and we’re trying to rescue her. We hoped to find someone with (#125 plural noun) here or information.”

“Hmm,” the shark sat back, its eyes dark with calculation. Rose and her hair were tugged with him. “I bear no love for the (#18 villain),” the shark said, “but I want more than revenge for my help.”

Dreading his price, Rose asked, “I don’t suppose we can refuse your help?”

“Nope,” the shark grinned nastily. He flung some pearls at the bartender, tucked the inebriated ducky floating upside down over his shoulder under his fin, and dragged the poor mermaid out of the tavern with one flipper clamped tightly over her wrist.


********************

Part IX

They swam toward the flashlight for a couple hours, but it never seemed to grow any bigger. After a little longer, the two stopped for a break.

“There must be some trick to this,” Rose gasped, out of breath.

“This Winston may have magical anemones that shorten distances,” the ducky wheezed, squeaking a little with exertion.

“Is there a way we can get one of these anemones or catch a ride with a humpback or something?” Rose asked.

“Hmm,” the ducky thought, “I saw an old, flowy shipwreck awhile back. Those usually have some informative creatures.”

By “informative creatures,” Rose learned, the ducky meant “seedy undersea tavern scourge.”

“Good thing I just turned twenty-one,” she grumbled as the stench of alcohol and strawberries washed over her at the entrance.

Electric eels flashed neon aquamarine over the bar, proclaiming, “The Other White Meat”. Buxom stingrays saucily served drinks to patrons who hunched over their tankards, eye stalks darting suspiciously as they played a game of Monopoly. A thin tune rose over the low buzz of conversation from a tired-looking dolphin with a piano in the corner, and two muscled sharks glared menacingly from either side of the bar.

Hesitating, Rose followed the ducky to the bar and jumped when the bartender slammed a bubble tea in front of her. The ducky was already sipping from a mai-tai and chatting with a veil-covered fish next to him.

“Hey, principessa,” a voice growled as a gray fin slapped the bar.

Rose looked up to see a lean gray shark grinning toothily at her. The bartender shoved a tankard against the gray fin and fled to the other side of the bar.

“Hi,” she said weakly.

The shark took a big gulp of his drink and leaned closer, peering lasciviously at her. “You mythologicals sure look vociferous in person,” he grinned.

“Thanks,” Rose said uncomfortably and glanced away, twirling a strand of hair nervously around her finger.

“Say,” he continued, wrapping a fin around her waist, “I got this nice coral reef, galactic view, not too far away, where you and I could, you know, shake a little fin….”

Eyes widening, Rose tried to wiggle loose from his fin. “Maybe another time,” she tried to explain. “See, my friend and I here just came for a moment, and we’re leaving in just a moment for this really important thing we have to go to in just a moment…” she trailed off as the fin tightened and pulled her closer.

“What friend?” the shark breathed into her face. Rose stared in terror at his gleaming teeth.

“*hiccup*” the ducky squawked beside them, “Fill up my empty days with red wine. Wonder what you think of me? quack *hiccup*.” With a loud squeak, the ducky fell off his stool.

The shark threw back his head and laughed. Rose took the opportunity to scoot farther away, but a gray fin caught a lock of hair.

“Now why are you really here?” the shark asked, no less menacing but now a little calmer.

Rose winced at the tug but admitted, “The Winston stole my friend Sarah, and we’re trying to rescue her. We hoped to find someone with anemones here or information.”

“Hmm,” the shark sat back, its eyes dark with calculation. Rose and her hair were tugged with him. “I bear no love for the Winston,” the shark said, “but I want more than revenge for my help.”

Dreading his price, Rose asked, “I don’t suppose we can refuse your help?”

“Nope,” the shark grinned nastily. He flung some pearls at the bartender, tucked the inebriated ducky floating upside down over his shoulder under his fin, and dragged the poor mermaid out of the tavern with one flipper clamped tightly over her wrist.

M.T. Anderson's Thirsty
Teenage Horror novel published in August 2005 by Candlewick
This review was written in July 2007.



Thirsty’s premise starts out suspiciously familiar: good-guy teenage boy Chris must save his tiny Western Massachusetts town and the world from the evil Vampire Lord Tch’muchgar and his vampire followers during the annual Sad Festival of Vampires with the help of celestial being Chet. In the meantime, Chris is turning into a vampire and must deal with the usual teenage angst including an annoying older brother, his first crush, wannabe-divorcee parents, and insensitive friends. I thought I had the plot and characters pegged as yet another mass-produced, predictable teen novel before I’d even begun reading, but Anderson surprised me with his wit and plot twists, the strongest points of Thirsty.

Unusually witty dark humor weaves throughout the entire novel, adding humor by pairing unexpected contrasts and fueling the novel’s central conflict, the anguish Chris experiences turning into a vampire while desiring to remain human. Chris’s anguish depends on the vampires’ characterization as inhuman, murderously violent, and terrifying. Consequently, readers cannot help but chuckle when he receives an invitation to weekly vampire gorgings (“we’ll set up a car pool!”) and a letter written in purple felt tip pen from a dangerous teenage vampiress looking for a boyfriend. As the strongest example of humor by contrast, a middle-aged vampire at the church banquet offers Chris some casserole from Jennifer or Dave in the most morbid scene in the novel. She adds that “’Dave has a broccoli garnish, and Jenn has Doris Blum’s special cornflakes crust—lots of crunchy bits.’”

However, the dark humor sometimes undermines the vampires’ violence and inhumanity. During the opening, one of the most important parts of a novel for setting tone, Chris describes the vampires that have come with the spring in the same terms as a ladybug infestation. While humorous, the comparison jars oddly with the later violent descriptions of vampire stakings and the fear Chris’s mother and others display when confronted with vampires and other non-humans. The inconsistency creates confusion as the reader doesn’t know whether to treat the vampires comically as a plague of monsters reduced to an irritating infestation or as inhuman terrors whose ranks Chris strongly desires to avoid.

While the dark humor regarding the vampires sometimes undermines the novel and confuses the reader, the reader will easily laugh and relate to the humor poking fun at teenage norms. Chris waxes poetic as he enthusiastically expounds on how he wants to talk about love and his crush on Rebecca Schwartz with his best bud Tom, and the author cuts immediately to the boys’ conversation detailing narratives of B movie plots. Chris’s constant, fantastical daydreams about Rebecca, his future cool friends, and modern art are hilarious; while they are obviously impossible, they do seem like daydreams a teenage boy would dream up. And as a last example, after his brother Paul “thinks we are all asleep, I hear him get his secret magazines from where they’re hidden under his video equipment and use them.*”

Less consistently successful than the humor in engaging the reader, the plot tromps predictably along most of the time until it twists delightfully a few times near the end. When the second celestial being, The Thing with the One-Piece Hair, confronts Chris, he predictably claims Chet is the real servant of the Forces of Darkness and he the servant of Light. Neither Chris nor the reader knows exactly who to believe, but the reader suspects Chet is the liar. This puts Chris in a nasty situation since he helped Chet deliver a magical device into Tch’muchgar’s prison supposedly to destroy him. Later on when the police capture Lolli, the vampiress with the purple pen, Chris decides to rescue her since she can lead him to the other vampires casting spells to release Tch’muchgar. All has been fairly predictable up to this point, and the reader expects Chris to rush off on his white steed to save Lolli with a narrow escape and then rush off to circumvent the power of the magical device. However, the plot twists. Chet reveals he is neither a servant of Darkness nor of Light but a mercenary for Darkness. This means he is not quite evil and can perform jobs with unexpected consequences—for pay, of course. Furthermore, Lolli was executed three-and-a-half minutes ago. And finally, unlike most evil gods, Tch’muchgar wants release from his prison not to wreak havoc again on earth but to die and cease his torment. Consequently, Chris helps Darkness achieve a goal that serves Light, and the plot starts and stops as it loses the reader with expected predictability and then drags the reader along again with unexpected events.

The plot could use some smoothing to better engage interest, but its real sin comes at the end. While Tch’muchgar is destroyed and the world saved, Chris is still a vampire and faces an awful dilemma. If he doesn’t feed soon, he’ll starve to death and go insane. If he goes on a killing spree, the humans will catch him and stake him (vampires can’t survive on animal blood). At the same time, the Forces of Light would like to try him and torture him for setting their prisoner, Tch’muchgar, free. If he evades the Forces of Light, he could join the vampire band except he killed their god and their chance to live and kill humans openly. If he thinks of it, Chris could go to Rebecca Schwartz, his crush, because as he noted several times throughout the story, she conveniently knows several ancient white magic spells and could possibly help him. Unfortunately, he never gets more than a few words out in front of her at the carnival, and the book simply trails off as he thinks how thirsty he is the night before his mother threatens to take him back to the doctor who will in turn lock him up and stake him for vampirism.

In other words, the ending is a cop-out. The author refused to resolve Chris’s dilemma which happens to be the core of the story, and the reader is left with mere insinuations. From Chris’s observations on the meaning of humanity on the penultimate page, one can conclude he did not go on a killing rampage and kill his family during the night. There is no indication he gave Rebecca a call, and consequently, one can only conclude his mother dragged him off to the doctor the next day where he was shortly killed. In summary, the author offers a weak indication of a weak and wholly unsatisfying ending and leaves the central conflict of the novel unresolved.

With fabulous dark humor and amusingly realistic and distinct characters, Thirsty is, as Publishers Weekly says, “a bloody cut above the usual fare.” Unfortunately, the jerkiness of its plot and the weak ending make it only a “cut” above a “usual fare” that consists of the same overused plots for teenage novels about vampires. Even at the end of this review, I am not quite sure it was worth reading since I still sting from the author’s betrayal and his broken promise to resolve the central conflict by the novel’s end.


*Part of what is so funny about this sentence is the contrast between the long length of the irrelevant phrase of where he’s hidden the magazines and the short length of the punchline phrase. You expect the phrases to balance. Thus the short phrase after the long one comes as a surprise which is an important part of humor. You nearly miss it, and while you backtrack, you realize the vague word “use” means more than just “look at them.”

Polly Horvath’s Everything on a Waffle
Children's book published in September 2004 by Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)
This review was written in July 2007.



If you’re from an American city, you might think a small Canadian fishing town the most boring place to grow up, but young Primrose Squarp is too busy meeting fascinating people and having adventures to think so. Of course, they aren’t always fun adventures—getting your baby toe run over by a truck and amputated never is—but she perseveres with steady cheerfulness and the unshakeable certainty that “’Didn’t you ever just know something, deep in your heart, for no reason?’”

In this case, Primrose knows deep in her heart that when her parents are lost at sea at the beginning of the book, they aren’t really gone like everybody says. When she isn’t watching for their return down at the dock, she lives with various characters such as her neighbor Miss Perfidy, her Uncle Jack, and her foster parents Evie and Bert. The school guidance counselor and villain, Miss Honeycut, wants Primrose to admit her parents’ death and tuck her neatly away so that she can pursue her eligible bachelor Uncle Jack, but neither Primrose nor Uncle Jack will have any of it. With a villain of weak and misguided character rather than a truly evil or ill-intentioned one, most of the book’s conflict comes from Primrose’s refusal to succumb to social pressure and admit her parents are gone.

Horvath has a charming way of describing the characters that connotes their appearance and personality in one or two hilarious phrases. For example, stingy Miss Perfidy always leaves the room while Primrose is in the middle of a sentence and sniffs at everything, then gripes that everyone has a cold when they begin sniffing curiously too. The school guidance counselor, Miss Honeycut, converses in anecdotes, and Evie and Bert, “because of their rounded middle and short bodies…looked like a couple of kindly old hard-boiled eggs.” And the best is Miss Bowzer, the cook and owner of the restaurant The Girl on the Red Swing, who serves everything on a waffle, even lasagna and fish n’ chips. As Miss Bowzer says, she likes to give customers “a little something extra.” Horvath gives readers a little something extra as well. In each chapter when Primrose mentions food such as the color of her hair (the color of carrots in an apricot glaze), a recipe follows. The lively characters and their descriptions give the book much of its substance and humor especially Miss Bowzer and her waffles.

While the characters are lively and vivid, the plot jumps around and lacks depth and finality. Since the book is short, quick, and told from a child’s point-of-view, the plot points flash by quickly and sometimes they jump ahead entirely, skipping back to fill in the gaps. This is particularly confusing when Primrose goes from catching fish on the dock and living with her uncle to telling her new foster parents how she lost the tip of a finger and came to live with them. Secondly, the book is witty and charming but lacks any real memorability like Gail Carson Levine’s also witty and charming Ella Enchanted, for example. The heart of the book centers around the potentially wrenching and touchng conflict between Primrose’s optimism and the town’s certainty over her parents’ deaths, but the book never delves deeper than a “No, they’re alive/No, they’re dead” exchange between Primrose and each resident. The least satisfying part is the end when Primrose’s parents return to the village, emaciated from living on an island for several months but alive. Primrose has such enduring faith that her parents are still alive despite everyone’s assurances they are dead that the author could not undermine the entire book and destroy the vitality of Primrose’s character by having their bodies discovered. However, it also rings a little falsely that they both survived a bad storm in small, faulty boats and lived on a small island nearby without anyone finding them until a few tourists went in search of grizzly bear sightings. I do not propose a solution for the author, but neither Primrose’s parents’ deaths nor their wondrous survival quite fits with the quiet optimism and practicality of the book.

I am not certain I would have awarded this book a Newberry, but it provides a light-hearted, quick read with gentle, witty pokes at the Miss Perfidies and Miss Honeycuts we all know in our lives. Though such steady optimism and intelligent discernment are unusual in any person, Horvath convinced me Primrose is a likable child with much to share about small towns and cooking, and I look forward to reading her acclaimed book, The Trolls.

The Cross-Country Quilters by Jennifer Chiaverini
Paperback reprint; March 2002; published by Plume
This book review was written in June 2007.



Five women struggling with life-changing problems meet at quilt camp at Elm Creek Manor in Jennifer Chiaverini’s book The Cross-Country Quilters, the third in the series and a stand-alone. Brought together by friendship despite their diverse backgrounds, the women divide a piece of fabric and promise to return the next year to piece a challenge quilt. However, they can begin their blocks only when they have confronted their problems and worked on their goals throughout the year.

Although the geographic implication of the novel’s title is misleading, the women face a reader-satisfying variety of life challenges for themselves and their families through the women’s eyes. Divorced and lonely, Megan worries about the absence of her young son Robbie’s father while her Internet pal Donna is concerned over the strange behavior of her daughter Lindsey and her fiancé. An aging, childless star who yearns to leave her mark on posterity, Julia must learn to quilt in order to play a role in a movie, and Vinnie, a cheerful lady of 83, nosily wants to help her grandson get over his ex-fiancée (with Megan’s help). And finally, Grace struggles to recover her art as a quilt artist as she contends with a debilitating disease and the return of her contrite, alcoholic ex-husband. Weaving together the women’s vignettes from their perspective, the limited third person narrative contributes to the novel’s comforting and intimate tone and reveals the specific responses such as maternal protection that women deal with when faced with threats to their families.

Fortunately, the characters live in the sunny world of Elm Creek Manor, and the author resolves everyone’s difficulties with neat, predictable solutions or strong implications of such by the book’s end (after all, with every other problem resolved, the romance must remain dangling but hopeful). Charged with enacting the obligatory romance of the novel, Vinnie’s grandson Adam and Megan begin dating, helping Adam over his ex-fiancée and providing a father figure for Robbie at the same time. Offering another neat solution and a foil to Lindsey’s fiancé, Grace’s ex-husband is suitably repentant and helps Grace by providing support and remodeling her converted-warehouse apartment to accommodate her physical difficulty. The reader can easily predict the outcomes of the characters’ difficulties, but the quantity of plots help create reader interest where the predictability cannot.

But these neat, predictable solutions cannot come without a cast of supporting villain stereotypes who get in the way. Robbie’s indifferent, long-distance father left his mother Megan for a younger woman and does not bother even to sign a holiday card, and Donna’s daughter’s boyfriend turns out to be an abusive control freak. An ambitious career-climber, Adam’s ex-fiancée Natalie proves insensitive and tries to get back together with Adam to further her career goals. Naturally, she subtly undermines his relationship with Megan and dislikes the thought of having children because everyone knows career-ambitious woman have no room for family or softer feelings. Meanwhile, Julia’s once heart-warming, true-story movie degenerates into a sleazy action movie under the vision of a tyrannical director and an arrogant action hero actor. And as already mentioned, Grace’s ex-husband Gabriel, the sincere redeemed villain, has been sober for ten years and desires to reunite with his daughter and grandson.

However, the women’s friendships bolstered by their interest in quilting supersede the novel’s shortcomings and give the novel its warm, endearing quality. Despite the shallow secondary cast, the difficulties such as single motherhood that the women face and told from the women’s perspective add intimacy for women readers. While Julia and sometimes Grace seem stiff and a little contrived, the characters are likable and interesting with varying personalities. Finally, the fast, easy, and uncluttered writing style adds to the novel’s warmth and prevents it from bogging down amid so many plots. The women’s friendships and the warm tone keep the reader reading quickly to confirm the anticipated but anxiously awaited happy endings.

Readers should only be warned that while they don’t need to know anything about quilting to enjoy the story, the story may inspire them to try it themselves.


Note: I read this book as a stand-alone from the series. I have not yet read any of the other books.

Dennis L. McKiernan’s Once Upon a Summer Day
Adult fantasy novel published in April 2006 by Roc
This review was written in June 2007.



In the second volume of McKiernan’s Forests of the Four Seasons books, Prince Borel of the Winterwood in Faery falls in love with a mysterious maiden who visits him in his dreams from a dark tower surrounded by daggers, and he has only a moon to rescue her. Aided by his unusual companions, a field sprite named Flic and an amazingly well-traveled bumblebee named Buzzer, Prince Borel confronts trolls, goblins, swamplands, mysterious riddles from the Fates, a murderous Pooka, endless desert, and other challenges in order to rescue his love in the nick of time.

As is often the case in fairy tales, much of the interest of the novel comes from the variety and steady pace of the action scenes instead of through character growth and development. Borel and Chelle, the princess, hardly change, but they share a sweet courtship through dreams during Borel’s adventures. To combat Sleeping Beauty’s relative passivity, Chelle challenges Borel to archery and chess and warns Borel of approaching danger while he sleeps. The tale “Sleeping Beauty” holds a great deal of potential for exploring the state of sleep, passivity, growth, dreams, and the subconscious, and it is always interesting to see how various authors handle the tale. In this case, it is nice to see Sleeping Beauty giving aid and participating in the story throughout the novel instead of appearing solely at the end.

While the lack of character development is bothersome but acceptable in a well-paced adventure, the main flaw lies in the narrative style. The touches of French to represent the Old Tongue are nice, but there is at least one glaring grammar mistake. For his narrative, McKiernan adopts an “old” way of speaking, using colorful phrases such as “for the nonce” and “nigh mid of night,” but these phrases contrast jarringly with more modern words such as “iota” and “atonal” (the latter of which was used incorrectly since “atonal” describes the non-tonal relationship among multiple notes in music and not one piercing, non-Western scalar note). In addition, an “old” way of speaking is difficult to maintain consistently throughout an entire novel, and the “old” style sometimes slips or McKiernan inserts a colorful word only once in an often-used phrase. Nevertheless, the dialogue keeps the narrative flowing, and McKiernan uses several nice touches of imagery such as the flute-spindled spinning wheel, the utility of the rusty blade, and the shadowed band across Chelle’s eyes.

Overall, the novel provides a pleasant read, though it may not satisfy adult fairy tale enthusiasts who prefer a closely-adhered tale. Since the tale “Sleeping Beauty” comes into effect mainly at the end and the novel weaves elements of other stories throughout, the novel more resembles a string of fairy tale dangers with a thorny castle tacked onto the end. However, other readers may find identifying the bits of other tales such as the Pooka enjoyable as I did. I question whether this tale can truly be called a “restored” version of “Sleeping Beauty,” but the interweaving of tales adds dimension to Faery as a complex world with various stories occurring simultaneously.

The novel gets three stars for a pleasant flow and well-paced adventure that somewhat overcome the lack of character development and the minor problems with narrative style and other inconsistencies.