I started reading this a week or weeks ago. (What meaning, Time?) I stopped because, while it had some elements I was excited to find (like the music elements), it had one thing that just drained me. And that was that when Joey crossed the border between ours and Shei’rah, what does she meet but a satyr. And I was just so mad that it wasn’t something better, something far from Narnia.
But when I was able to get over that, I was able to realize the differences, and then it seemed...well, an element after my own heart. That thing, doing that thing you’ve read done so many times, but making it different.
And the homeless lady reminded me of something, something I can’t quite remember. A few things, mushed together, and so obscuring themselves. It’s nice and sad and comfortable.
Then there are the lines.
“ ‘This world, that world, doesn’t matter. You never make people to see what you see, hear, feel what you feel. Notes don’t do it, words don’t do it, paints, bronze, marble, nothing. All you can do, you maybe get it a little close, a little closer. But right, like you’re talking? No. No.’ ”
And, “ ‘The worth is in the reason, not the gift.’ ”
Putting them together. And there I’ve shared the lines to say what the book is to me, and proved them at the same time. But I left out an important essence, too. How can I do anything but love Peter S. Beagle?
And it’s probably not fair that I give it four stars. Rating systems are whack. Sometimes I rate like I’m thinking of Writing.com where 3 is average and all that. Sometimes, I take it literally the way it’s laid out on Goodreads. Sometimes---lots of other things, like the last book I read and how the one I just read relates and all that. This time, it’s comparing it to The Last Unicorn and A Fine and Private Place. When people do it to me, I'm told it's a compliment, and so.