Faery Tale: One Woman's Search for Enchantment in a Modern World - Signe Pike
Faery Tale: One Woman's Search for Enchantment in a Modern World - Signe Pike
Non-Fiction
Pages: 288
I'm sure any criticism by ardent devotees of this book will be met with accusations of having lost the innocence of childhood or the sense of magic in nature or some other New Age shortcoming. And that may well be true. I don't believe in fairies, and I'm not going to start clapping my hands now either. And I have to admit that, yes, I would look askance at any grown-up adult claiming to believe in fairies, and particularly one who gave up her job, left her fiancee in New York and spent two and a half months travelling around the British Isles looking for them.
In addition, I'm not sure this book is really aimed at Brits - it's full of an almost typical American fascination with the history and 'quaintness' of Britain, a conviction that thatched cottages and drystone walls and folklore and hidden glens must automatically equal magic. I didn't really recognise this Britain, but perhaps I need to get in touch with my inner child in order to do so.
I'm not against the idea of recapturing the magic of youth, of attempting to rediscover the mystery and myth of the world we live in. I have no problem with people trying to rediscover their inner child, or shedding a lot of the scepticism and cynicism of adult life. Those are admirable goals, to be sure - but this book didn't do it for me. I just found it breathlessly credulous.
On a purely functional level, this book could have done with a better edit, which is ironic considering the author is an editor. There were more than a few errors - 'taught' instead of 'taut', 'draught' instead of 'drought'.
Non-Fiction
Pages: 288
I'm sure any criticism by ardent devotees of this book will be met with accusations of having lost the innocence of childhood or the sense of magic in nature or some other New Age shortcoming. And that may well be true. I don't believe in fairies, and I'm not going to start clapping my hands now either. And I have to admit that, yes, I would look askance at any grown-up adult claiming to believe in fairies, and particularly one who gave up her job, left her fiancee in New York and spent two and a half months travelling around the British Isles looking for them.
In addition, I'm not sure this book is really aimed at Brits - it's full of an almost typical American fascination with the history and 'quaintness' of Britain, a conviction that thatched cottages and drystone walls and folklore and hidden glens must automatically equal magic. I didn't really recognise this Britain, but perhaps I need to get in touch with my inner child in order to do so.
I'm not against the idea of recapturing the magic of youth, of attempting to rediscover the mystery and myth of the world we live in. I have no problem with people trying to rediscover their inner child, or shedding a lot of the scepticism and cynicism of adult life. Those are admirable goals, to be sure - but this book didn't do it for me. I just found it breathlessly credulous.
On a purely functional level, this book could have done with a better edit, which is ironic considering the author is an editor. There were more than a few errors - 'taught' instead of 'taut', 'draught' instead of 'drought'.