Updated: Sep 15
This story is akin to an exotic flower that magically blooms inside a vase of fine wine. It opens up its glorious petals to reveal more wisdom, improving with age, in a way that doesn’t make logical sense. Which is exactly the way a story transforms us.
The words shared even before the story of George. Megs, Padraig, and the Lewis brothers begins captivated me.
Sometimes fairy stories my say best what’s to be said. ~C.S. Lewis
As an author myself, this novel sprinkled magic into my world like softly falling snow. I never felt a single flake, but the way it accumulated and burrowed its way into a sacred part of my being helped me believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that stories are an elemental piece of our existence as human beings.
There are so many brilliant observations to make about this author and the way she goes about bestowing her gift upon us. This novel is part fable and part philosophical text, each part helping us to navigate reality in its own unique way.
Throughout the course of consuming this story, I wanted to stop—so many times—to jot down emotional passages that moved me to some deeper understanding of the world, and more importantly, myself. The truth is, if I did so, I’d still be reading this book because it would have happened so often. I resisted the urge to fracture the flow and instead immersed myself in the magic of the moment. I set aside the longings of my inner Margaret Devonshire, my aching desire to analyze, understand, and make sense of things.
Sometimes it’s only in letting go of control that we grasp it. This review feels more like a recollection of my emotional journey while reading the story instead of a dissection of its pros and cons, the latter of which I would have been unable to find even if I had been looking for them.
I will be honest. I didn’t find this book on my own. I didn’t peruse the virtual bookshelves, land upon this spine, and pick it up to read it. Instead, I received an email from a friend, sharing how moved she was by the magic of this story. It’s all I needed to pick it up, and it feels like sweet serendipity that I did.
The power of a story is undeniable. The way we mix our individual stories together to create something bigger and more profound—it’s magical. It resonates with me on such a deep level because it’s the same message I share in my own author biography, and they are sentiments I hope to foster through the sharing of my own stories. Through a combination of imagination and what can only be described as divine intervention, words coalesce in a compelling way to share an inspired light, leaving a legacy that transcends any conceivable barrier.
My own journey reflects that of Megs so well. I grew up valuing logic and the importance of finding the "right" answer. I used to read for information, not for entertainment or the pursuit of enchantment. And now, here I am, touting the exact opposite, how rarely things are black and white. How they are layered, intricate, intangible, and pure magic, if only we open ourselves up to all the possibilities.
I suppose it goes without saying that I enjoyed this book. I devoured it, sipping each word and savoring each syllable in a way that defies logic or explanation. And I love that. After reading a book like this, I always wish that I could go back and read it again for the first time. In this case, and although it defies logic, I believe that wish is not only possible, but likely. There are so many nuggets of wisdom tucked between each of Ms. Callahan’s words. I’m already looking forward to—not searching for them—because that’s not how compelling stories work. I can’t wait to discover them, to have them alight on my shoulder like a delicate and single flake of snow, appreciating its presence while it’s there.
But for now, I feel compelled to visit Narnia—sorry, Ms. Callahan, I promise I’ll be back—because this story and the magical message it has shared with me catapults me both forward and backward, in time and space, in a way that makes little sense, which etches an indelible smile on my soul.
Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. ~ C.S. Lewis
And so, I’ll meet you on the far side of a wardrobe, in a place where winter persists, a place where tiny snowflakes of wisdom and magic fall from the sky, a place where stories transform us, a place that feels like home.
Dave’s Rating: ☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️
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