Just re-read this, a few years after reading it for the first time, mostly because it was in the same collection as The Princess and the Wise Woman which I finished not long ago. I liked it more this time, maybe because The Princess and the Wise Woman helped prepare me to better appreciate MacDonald's particular genius. What he excels at is taking the spiritual and making it seem not the familiar, dusty, "tame" thing we tend to fall into thinking it is, and makes it come alive as something mysterious, unpredictable and unexpected, strange and beautiful, sometimes frightening and uncomfortable - all by recasting it as fairy-tale and then lifting it back up into Christianity. The thing that turns out to be the power and magic behind Faerie, turns out to be the Power that created the Heavens and the Earth, the idea of which we had shrunk down to a little diorama of bible story characters. He manages to inject wonder and mystery back into the world, while still directing our reverence to the proper directions. It's the antidote to all my Sunday School lessons with little felt cartoon sheep and Davids on a little felt board, which taught my child-self that Christianity was boring, lifeless, a thing for half-senile old women, devoid of adventure or danger, something "nice" in the way that doilies are nice. I had the backwards view that Christianity was like Bilbo's comfortable hole with a stocked pantry and where nothing unexpected ever happened, when George MacDonald knew it was more like the journey through the Wild to the Lonely Mountain, to face a dragon, and possibly come back alive. Sorry, Sunday-school teachers. You didn't read enough fairy-tales, else you might have helped me a lot more.