This book was a staple of my childhood. The whole series, really, but this one is the one that triggers the most memories, and a significant part of the love that I have for it can be traced back to those memories and the comfort element of a childhood book rather than to its actual qualities.
That being said, it's a damn good book, and reading it now, as an adult, I'm even more aware of it than I was as a kid. It's a classic story of magic and wishes and fairies and woods and mysterious enemies, but there's something about it that stands out to me, among all the other magical stories I read as a kid.
Every detail, name and image is deliberately quaint and reminiscent of natural elements, scents and visuals - and that, as a kid, used to drive me absolutely nuts, in a good way. I just loved it. So much. It was adventurous and playful, but also so deliciously cozy. And there's a depth of character and variety of relationships here that kind of surprises me even now. It's written like a children's book, with made-up magical words and a lot of exclamation marks, but there's something in it that appeals to the grown-up reader in me, something about the way it explores its characters just as deeply as its fantastical traits in a way that's perfectly understandable to kids and carries a little more intrigue and emotion for the older ones who can catch it.
After I closed this one, I was actually excited to read the sequel. For like the fifth time. That's what this series does to me.
Oh, also, the illustrations are gorgeous.