‘The crucible of the story changes those who listen to it, those who are within it, and the person who is telling it, all at the same time.’ (p 380)
(No) more to be said?
I have written enthusiastically about the Wizards of Once series so many times now, (well, once, twice, three times actually, most recently in May 2019 - see previous posts) that I have little left to say. Except that this concluding book of the quartet fizzes and crackles with all the thrillingly entertaining magic of the previous three, and a good deal more too. Cressida Cowell certainly proves to have a great deal of value still to say.
As one, so the other
As ever, her own exuberant illustrations are strewn across the pages. Her anarchic line and sprawled captions pull in her excited readers, their imagination freed by the freedom of the images. Like the pictures in the best graphic novels (although most certainly not confined in rectilinear frames) they are not perceived as static but create momentum, propelling both the characters they represent and the reader through the story with breathtaking drive. Whether conjuring the swooping of a flying door, materialising a rider clinging on for dear life to the fur of a jet-propelled bear, or simply capturing the downward drift of a gifted feather, these pictures both move and move. They are funny, terrifying , thrilling, touching, bewildering and bewitching. They can be incredibly sensitive too, and that is a big part of Cressida Cowell’s genius; she creates hilarious scrawls of fantastic creations that are often deeply compassionate and somehow profoundly human. Us as not us. (Or is that vice versa?)
And as the artist so the writer. Cressida Cowell’s story is all these same things too, and more besides. This book, these books, are the apotheosis of young children’s fantasy. They are pure reading joy. They have just about every kid-pleasing element and have it in spades (and enchanted spoonfuls). But they have more besides (did I say that already?). Her story changes and changes us.
Meta matter
Ultimately this is metafiction for young readers. And that is a hard thing to pull off. But Cressida Cowell can do it. This is a story wrapped in story. It is old story wrapped in new story. Rich legend wrapped in wild invention. It is story of story yet to unfold, told through stories told before. It is steeped in lore as much, as the tales of, say, Alan Garner or Susan Cooper. It just wears its erudition more lightly. It is sometimes ‘magical and invisible in the quiet still darkness of the sheltering trees.’ (p 380) At other times, it lurks in gleeful laughter But though its echoes often chortle, they resonate no less for all that.
Through four wonderful books Cressida Cowell has developed the intriguing mystery of which character in her story is the secret narrator. In this volume, all is finally revealed. I am most certainly not going to tell you who it is. But that which was lost is found, and that which was found is lost. Study the faces, and you may just spot the face. And if young readers are puzzled by the esoteric esthetic of the denouement, then many will think too, and is that not the purpose of a puzzle? Of a story? Of a fantasy? We are story. We are fantasy. (Or is that verse vica?)
Four-ever?
This title , like the series, is a triumphant tour de force from one of our very finest children’s book creators. But is this really the end of the story of Wish and Xar? The author is at pains to point out that a story never truly ends. Will there be more? Hopefully, never say
NEVER AND FOREVER.
I did find a bit more to say, after all.
Little in response to much.
