The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two (Fairyland, Book 3)
Catherynne M. Valente
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
“One of the most extraordinary works of fantasy, for adults or children, published so far this century.”—TIME Magazine, on the Fairyland series
September misses Fairyland and her friends Ell, the Wyverary, and the boy Saturday. She longs to leave the routines of home, and embark on a new adventure. Little does she know that this time, she will be spirited away to the moon, reunited with her friends, and find herself faced with saving Fairyland from a moon-Yeti with great and mysterious powers.
Here is another rich, beautifully told, wisely humorous, and passionately [layered] book from New York Times-bestselling author, Catherynne M. Valente.
coins a little tighter. “That’s not very many titles,” frowned the Calcatrix. “I’ll bet you don’t get invited to parties at all.” September bit the inside of her lip. “That’s true,” she admitted, rather more bashfully than she meant to. “I was a Knight for a while. And then a Bishop.” The Calcatrix leaned forward eagerly, his pennies clinking against the Till. “Now, now! We must not dwell on what we were in our salad days when soup days steam now upon the table! I see deep vaults of tragedy in
though we do!” cried the girl, whose body was the warm, expensive gold of old letters, an elegant calligraphy covering every inch of her round, excited cheeks, her acrobat’s costume, her long, red, sealing-wax hair, the postmarks like freckles on her shoulders. September could make out a number of addresses and signatures, words like Dearest, Darling, Yours Forever, Heart of My Heart: love letters, woven together to make a girl. “I’m Valentine,” she said, holding out her angular hand. “I’m
their smiles, and all of her leaned toward them, as if by wanting it she could be Tem again. I have missed Saturday and I have missed Ell and I have missed Fairyland—but how can I miss myself? September clenched her fist against tears that longed to well up and spill out. Instead, drops of searing, mercurial fluid dripped down her face, burning her skin away as they fell. Ell stretched his neck forward, straining after Errata in his own way, calling for her to stay even as his eyes darkened to
slow and quick and slow on her slopes, being near her every day, hearing the small mountain particulars of daily living: which foxes had kits and which had fallen off of cliff-faces, which avalanches wanted to come round for tea, what still meadows had business with alpine hypnodaisies, a thousand dropping pinecones. Some look at a mountain and see only the peak. I looked with a lover’s eyes and saw every tremble of every pebble. And so lost was I in contemplating the future happiness of my life
Wind said. But she could not make her lips and lungs work together to say that, either. And then September felt a pulling in her, a hook in the heart, and she knew the feeling, she knew it but it was too soon, she had been in Fairyland but a moment, only a moment! Over the Fairy’s terrible shoulder, she could see the Blue Wind coming, as the Green Wind had come for her twice now, sailing over the edge of the world to snatch her out of it and send her home. “I only had a day!” September