This book surprised me again and again. The beginning brings Insects back to the fore--as they were in "The Year of Our War"--and introduces a plot concocted by the immortal Circle to push the Insects back into the Paperlands and reclaim territory lost in centuries past. Jant and his immortal companions jest, talk about the past, and prepare for battle. It was all familiar, and it was all a welcomed read; I figured that I had a good idea as to where Swainston was going to take the story, and I was content.

I was also flat out wrong. Just as it looks like battle is nigh, Swainston pulls a fast one: Lightning is having family problems and asks Jant to intervene. Jant agrees, and he takes flight to the town of his youth, bringing the story in tow. From here, Swainston dives into teenage angst; more anecdotes from the past; more visits to the Shift; and more pieces of the cosmology that underlie the Castle books. Some weird characters and events surface, tear up the scenery, and disappear.

Insects? Battle? Where were we?

To be frank, there were moments when I felt puzzlement alongside my surprise. I wondered what Swainston was up to, and I wondered if she wasn't getting too exposition-heavy for the series. Heretofore, she moved things along at a nice clip and dropped tidbits of history into places where they became invaluable; now, she was diving into long conversations and tangential plot lines that moved away from what I had thought would be the main story. In short, I had an "uh oh" moment.

Shame on me--and shame on my lack of faith: Swainston does all of this because she is telling a different kind of story entirely. Why--given the vitality of the first two books--suppose that Swainston would write a third volume that wraps the series up into a nice, neat trilogy? Conclusions are reached, but I was way off as to what they were, and what they meant. In fact, Swainston takes the Castle story to depths and places that I could never have guessed, and when it ended, I felt a part of myself stay with Jant, standing on that shoreline, watching a dear friend row out of sight.