It is great to now have the final part of Matt Griffin's Ayla Trilogy. (See post from May '16 for reviews of earlier volumes.) For the reader in me, it has rounded off a hugely enjoyable story sequence and, for the reviewer, it has fulfilled the earlier promise that this is a fine work of children's fiction.
The trilogy is now confirmed as sitting within the 'classic' tradition of children's fantasy (think Alan Garner, Susan Cooper, et al) yet it is more than fresh enough and rich enough to constitute a most welcome addition to this notable canon. Like its illustrious predecessors, it draws upon both rich location and deep lore for its inspiration, but this is no retelling of folktales or mythology. Matt Griffin's throws an ancient Ireland and an archetypal lore into the crucible of his own imagination and smelts a tale that is darkly original, yet resonates with what lies deep within us all. His foil to this is a group of highly credible, contemporary kids and it is in the meeting, indeed the clash, between these two disparate elements that his story lies.
In the previous volumes, his quartet of young protagonists has been dragged (usually kicking and screaming) into the realm of 'old' magic. Now, however, they have returned to their own world, only to find that the magic has followed them there. This is an inspired twist which ignites the story anew and only serves to intensify the conflict between reality and legend. And this is no benign magic. There is nothing of the charming here. This magic is largely malevolent - and violent, vicious, cruel, to boot. It challenges both the protagonists' and the reader's concept of 'nature' magic, and indeed of both magic and nature themselves. This is no Narnia. The Spring which awakens mid-tale carries with it more horror than hope. Like much in the story, it is a trap; both illusion and delusion. It is powerful and powerfully disturbing.
Like the earlier ones, this is a comparatively short book in terms of word count. But it is no 'easy reader', nor is it a book for younger children. The storytelling is intense, almost condensed, at times verging on the enigmatic. (Again echoes of Garner.) It is a multi-perspective narrative that hurls one story strand on top of another. Yet there is amazing image-building too. Matt Griffin is an illustrator as well as an author. This volume, like the others, is greatly enhanced by his own starkly powerful, disturbingly dark pictures. (I found the one of the kneeling, magic-helmed Ayla particularly devastating. ) But these are echoed in the text too, which is stamped throughout with image after image from 'classic' mythology and folklore, but so often distorted, twisted, envisioned anew. The smith, the weaver's loom, goblins, bards, they are all here. And through them all, the spiral, the Troy, often implied more than described, but always leading inexorably to the centre of the magic. But what magic? Whose magic? This book asks questions too - of Ayla and her friends, and of its readers. Where might today's kids and ancient magic meet, and what might happen if they did - or do?
And is the ending as reassuring as it seems, or are its surprising final sentences as chilling as they are exciting?
Another triumph, Mr Griffin. Please do not stop writing as well as drawing. Children's literature will be the richer.