Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.7 AVERAGE
3.7 AVERAGE
I liked this one less than McKillip's usual work, though it was still a lovely read. I'm not sure why--either the main character was less compelling than usual or the book seemed to drag more. I think it was the latter; I rarely read McKillip for her characters and it's usually the language that wins me. Maybe it was the combination of less poetic language than usual (due to the point of view character) and the way that everything seemed to take a very long to happen.
Still, I liked the story overall and enjoyed this reworking of fairyland and the stories that surround it.
Still, I liked the story overall and enjoyed this reworking of fairyland and the stories that surround it.
A beautifully written winter's tale that left me cold. Layers and layers of metaphors, similes, and lyrical descriptions--lovely and evocative--paper over a too-thin plot and under-developed or not very likable characters. The story didn't really get rolling until halfway through, and even then little actually 'happened'. Most of it involved the narrator moving in and out of a dream state (sleep, fit, vision, who knows?) and it was hard to hell what was supposed to be real and what wasn't. Besides that, the narrator seemed too verbally sophisticated for someone supposedly acting mostly on instinct. And as for her growing up... At the end of the book, the narrator has become "more human" (i.e., less fey), and this is manifested by her losing her desire to run barefoot through the spring woods. Er, what? Wearing shoes is more socially conforming behaviour, but... I'm not convinced the changes were entirely improvements.
This must be the third - fourth? - time that I have re-read this book when I picked it up so many, many years ago when visiting my home town of Santa Barbara with my brother. I remember going to the Borders that used to be a bank and this book sitting on a pile on the steps. The cover drew me in and the story kept me going throughout that trip.
It's so funny how I remember so clearly the day I picked up this book, my first Patricia McKillip, which is quite rare.
But even on this new telling of Tam Lin, this new reading with new eyes, I am still at a loss for a story that I feel will go on forever and ever with no end in sight. It feels so jarring to come to the last page and realize that the story has ended. Or has it? It has at least in terms of words written and pages turned. And even now I am unsure of what to say. I still love this book because of my previous memories tied to it but it is most assuredly not my favorite of Ms. McKillip's books. I always return to this book confused because I can never remember the story or how it ends. Unlike any of her other books.
And unlike any of her other books I always seem to come back to this book with a blank slate even knowing that I have read it before. None of it sticks with me except for the beautiful way words are weaved into this story making it feel so real. This could be from the very rare first-person perspective that is not often used by Ms. McKillip but that is not quite it either. I don't know what it is about this book that captivates me and engrosses me and then spits me out on the last page unawares.
I am sorry that this is not a true 'review' as such but rather my meandering memories into the annuls of time. This is a beautifully and tightly written book that never fails to leave me dazed and confused when I finish it, even knowing that I will re-read it again at a future date with the story forgotten.
It's so funny how I remember so clearly the day I picked up this book, my first Patricia McKillip, which is quite rare.
But even on this new telling of Tam Lin, this new reading with new eyes, I am still at a loss for a story that I feel will go on forever and ever with no end in sight. It feels so jarring to come to the last page and realize that the story has ended. Or has it? It has at least in terms of words written and pages turned. And even now I am unsure of what to say. I still love this book because of my previous memories tied to it but it is most assuredly not my favorite of Ms. McKillip's books. I always return to this book confused because I can never remember the story or how it ends. Unlike any of her other books.
And unlike any of her other books I always seem to come back to this book with a blank slate even knowing that I have read it before. None of it sticks with me except for the beautiful way words are weaved into this story making it feel so real. This could be from the very rare first-person perspective that is not often used by Ms. McKillip but that is not quite it either. I don't know what it is about this book that captivates me and engrosses me and then spits me out on the last page unawares.
I am sorry that this is not a true 'review' as such but rather my meandering memories into the annuls of time. This is a beautifully and tightly written book that never fails to leave me dazed and confused when I finish it, even knowing that I will re-read it again at a future date with the story forgotten.
Beautiful. I still think about it now, three months later. This is my favorite of McKillip's books that I have read so far, except for the Riddle-Master Trilogy, which I will adore forever.
I can't tell if this was a gothic romance about the fey, or an extended metaphor for seasonal affective disorder. I spend a lot of the novel not knowing what was going on, but feeling like it was probably bad, which feeling was heartily shared by the heroine.
It's set in a small town in New England or Quebec (corn, hummingbirds and colour change in the fall) in a time before internal combustion. The characters are white, but no one has an identifiably Anglo-Saxon name, or a German name, or a Swedish name (some of them sound French?). No one mentions history/politics/government/nation/currency. It could be any village, except it's so explicitly not any village that it feels like it as much as fairyland is half a universe over.
The town itself feels claustrophobic even before the snow sets in. Everyone knows everyone. No one ever seems to leave. The family with the great house on the hill is cursed, but no one remembers exactly how. When the son of the family returns, he is watched, waiting for the curse, by the heroine most of all. She watches as the hero tries to struggle free, as the barriers between her slightly out of this world village and another world entirely start to break down, as she and her family are pulled into another reality, presumably to their deaths. There's a touch of the Snow Queen in this, and a touch of the Fairy Queen, and a dash of Anne Radcliffe.
All of this is expressed in closely written, vivid language, that makes the barrier between dreaming and waking, her world and fairyland increasingly unclear. Which indeed is the case, and the book pulled off the immersion very well, but by the end it was all so tightly packed together and murky that I felt like I couldn't breath. Also, I'm really unclear as to what was going on.
I'm interested in the second book, which takes up the story in contemporary America.
It's set in a small town in New England or Quebec (corn, hummingbirds and colour change in the fall) in a time before internal combustion. The characters are white, but no one has an identifiably Anglo-Saxon name, or a German name, or a Swedish name (some of them sound French?). No one mentions history/politics/government/nation/currency. It could be any village, except it's so explicitly not any village that it feels like it as much as fairyland is half a universe over.
The town itself feels claustrophobic even before the snow sets in. Everyone knows everyone. No one ever seems to leave. The family with the great house on the hill is cursed, but no one remembers exactly how. When the son of the family returns, he is watched, waiting for the curse, by the heroine most of all. She watches as the hero tries to struggle free, as the barriers between her slightly out of this world village and another world entirely start to break down, as she and her family are pulled into another reality, presumably to their deaths. There's a touch of the Snow Queen in this, and a touch of the Fairy Queen, and a dash of Anne Radcliffe.
All of this is expressed in closely written, vivid language, that makes the barrier between dreaming and waking, her world and fairyland increasingly unclear. Which indeed is the case, and the book pulled off the immersion very well, but by the end it was all so tightly packed together and murky that I felt like I couldn't breath. Also, I'm really unclear as to what was going on.
I'm interested in the second book, which takes up the story in contemporary America.
Patricia McKillip is one of my absolute favorite authors. I love her dreamy prose and have reread multiple books of hers. One complaint some people had about this book is that it’s hard to tell when things are a dream and when they are real. I agree with that and had a few moments I needed to go back and reread passages to figure out where things were going. I enjoyed the character of Rois who was quirky and unique, and such a contrast to her sister Laurel who was all things beautiful and good. The folk tale Tam Lin is one of my favorites, and I liked McKillip’s spin on it.
I have to be in the right mood to appreciate McKillip. Lovely but airy-fairy.
emotional
mysterious
reflective
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
There is much to admire in this book: some beautifully lyrical, poetic writing, especially of dreams and visions and mysterious moments of two worlds intermingling. But ultimately it is undermined by a climax that remains too elusive and abstract and muddy (featuring dialogue that suddenly becomes jarringly melodramatic) and a general feeling throughout that the poetic prose keeps the emotional heart of the story at arms’ length.
I am still interested in reading more of Patrica A. McKillip’s work (this was the first time I’d read anything by her), since she is clearly gifted, and has a rich imagination and the ability to paint some beautiful pictures with her words.
I am still interested in reading more of Patrica A. McKillip’s work (this was the first time I’d read anything by her), since she is clearly gifted, and has a rich imagination and the ability to paint some beautiful pictures with her words.
Weaving several stories that involve roses this is an interesting read. It seems to take it's primary inspiration from Snow White and Rose Red but there are aspects of Beauty and the Beast as well there. McKillip manages to evoke a very fairy tale aspect to the story. It does lag occasionally but the tension is kept up throughout the story, and even though it is a fairy tale you're never sure what the exact outcome is going to be.
I did enjoy it but it's not my favourite of the type.
I did enjoy it but it's not my favourite of the type.