BN.com Gift Guide

Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women

( 41 )

Overview

One of nineteenth-century novelist George MacDonald's most important works, Phantastes tells the story of its narrator's dreamlike adventures in fairyland, masterfully recounted to convey a sense of profound sadness and a poignant longing for death. Introduced by C.S. Lewis.
Read More Show Less
... See more details below
Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (3) from $8.17   
  • New (3) from $8.17   
Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK 7.0
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK 10.1
  • NOOK HD Tablet
  • NOOK HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK eReaders
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$0.99
BN.com price
This digital version does not exactly match the physical book displayed here.
Marketplace
BN.com

All Available Formats & Editions

Overview

One of nineteenth-century novelist George MacDonald's most important works, Phantastes tells the story of its narrator's dreamlike adventures in fairyland, masterfully recounted to convey a sense of profound sadness and a poignant longing for death. Introduced by C.S. Lewis.
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781497457546
  • Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
  • Publication date: 3/26/2014
  • Pages: 168
  • Product dimensions: 7.00 (w) x 10.00 (h) x 0.36 (d)

Meet the Author

George MacDonald (10 December 1824 - 18 September 1905) was a Scottish author, poet, and Christian minister. He was a pioneering figure in the field of fantasy literature and the mentor of fellow writer Lewis Carroll. His writings have been cited as a major literary influence by many notable authors including W. H. Auden, C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, E. Nesbit and Madeleine L'Engle. C. S. Lewis wrote that he regarded MacDonald as his "master": "Picking up a copy of Phantastes one day at a train-station bookstall, I began to read. A few hours later," said Lewis, "I knew that I had crossed a great frontier." G. K. Chesterton cited The Princess and the Goblin as a book that had "made a difference to my whole existence."
Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Phantastes

A Faerie Romance for Men and Women


By George MacDonald

Hendrickson Publishers Marketing, LLC

Copyright © 2011 Hendrickson Publishers Marketing, LLC
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-59856-728-1


CHAPTER 1

"A spirit

"The undulating woods, and silent well,
And rippling rivulet, and evening gloom,
Now deepening the dark shades, for speech assuming,
Held commune with him; as if he and it
Were all that was."

—Shelley's Alastor


I awoke one morning with the usual perplexity of mind which accompanies the return of consciousness. As I lay and looked through the eastern window of my room, a faint streak of peach-colour, dividing a cloud that just rose above the low swell of the horizon, announced the approach of the sun. As my thoughts, which a deep and apparently dreamless sleep had dissolved, began again to assume crystalline forms, the strange events of the foregoing night presented themselves anew to my wondering consciousness. The day before had been my one-and-twentieth birthday. Among other ceremonies investing me with my legal rights, the keys of an old secretary, in which my father had kept his private papers, had been delivered up to me. As soon as I was left alone, I ordered lights in the chamber where the secretary stood, the first lights that had been there for many a year; for, since my father's death, the room had been left undisturbed. But, as if the darkness had been too long an inmate to be easily expelled, and had dyed with blackness the walls to which, bat-like, it had clung, these tapers served but ill to light up the gloomy hangings, and seemed to throw yet darker shadows into the hollows of the deep-wrought cornice. All the further portions of the room lay shrouded in a mystery whose deepest folds were gathered around the dark oak cabinet which I now approached with a strange mingling of reverence and curiosity. Perhaps, like a geologist, I was about to turn up to the light some of the buried strata of the human world, with its fossil remains charred by passion and petrified by tears. Perhaps I was to learn how my father, whose personal history was unknown to me, had woven his web of story; how he had found the world, and how the world had left him. Perhaps I was to find only the records of lands and moneys, how gotten and how secured; coming down from strange men, and through troublous times, to me, who knew little or nothing of them all.

To solve my speculations, and to dispel the awe which was fast gathering around me as if the dead were drawing near, I approached the secretary; and having found the key that fitted the upper portion, I opened it with some difficulty, drew near it a heavy high-backed chair, and sat down before a multitude of little drawers and slides and pigeon-holes. But the door of a little cupboard in the centre especially attracted my interest, as if there lay the secret of this long-hidden world. Its key I found. One of the rusty hinges cracked and broke as I opened the door: it revealed a number of small pigeon-holes. These, however, being but shallow compared with the depth of those around the little cupboard, the outer ones reaching to the back of the desk, I concluded that there must be some accessible space behind; and found, indeed, that they were formed in a separate framework, which admitted of the whole being pulled out in one piece. Behind, I found a sort of flexible portcullis of small bars of wood laid close together horizontally. After long search, and trying many ways to move it, I discovered at last a scarcely projecting point of steel on one side. I pressed this repeatedly and hard with the point of an old tool that was lying near, till at length it yielded inwards; and the little slide, flying up suddenly, disclosed a chamber—empty, except that in one corner lay a little heap of withered rose-leaves, whose long-lived scent had long since departed; and, in another, a small packet of papers, tied with a bit of ribbon, whose colour had gone with the rose-scent. Almost fearing to touch them, they witnessed so mutely to the law of oblivion, I leaned back in my chair, and regarded them for a moment; when suddenly there stood on the threshold of the little chamber, as though she had just emerged from its depth, a tiny woman-form, as perfect in shape as if she had been a small Greek statuette roused to life and motion. Her dress was of a kind that could never grow old-fashioned, because it was simply natural: a robe plaited in a band around the neck, and confined by a belt about the waist, descended to her feet. It was only afterwards, however, that I took notice of her dress, although my surprise was by no means of so overpowering a degree as such an apparition might naturally be expected to excite. Seeing, however, as I suppose, some astonishment in my countenance, she came forward within a yard of me, and said, in a voice that strangely recalled a sensation of twilight, and reedy river banks, and a low wind, even in this deathly room:

"Anodos, you never saw such a little creature before, did you?"

"No," said I; "and indeed I hardly believe I do now."

"Ah! that is always the way with you men; you believe nothing the first time; and it is foolish enough to let mere repetition convince you of what you consider in itself unbelievable. I am not going to argue with you, however, but to grant you a wish."

Here I could not help interrupting her with the foolish speech, of which, however, I had no cause to repent—

"How can such a very little creature as you grant or refuse anything?"

"Is that all the philosophy you have gained in one-and-twenty years?" said she. "Form is much, but size is nothing. It is a mere matter of relation. I suppose your six-foot lordship does not feel altogether insignificant, though to others you do look small beside your old Uncle Ralph, who rises above you a great half-foot at least. But size is of so little consequence with me, that I may as well accommodate myself to your foolish prejudices."

So saying, she leapt from the desk upon the floor, where she stood a tall, gracious lady, with pale face and large blue eyes. Her dark hair flowed behind, wavy but uncurled, down to her waist, and against it her form stood clear in its robe of white.

"Now," said she, "you will believe me."

Overcome with the presence of a beauty which I could now perceive, and drawn towards her by an attraction irresistible as incomprehensible, I suppose I stretched out my arms towards her, for she drew back a step or two, and said—

"Foolish boy, if you could touch me, I should hurt you. Besides, I was two hundred and thirty-seven years old, last Midsummer eve; and a man must not fall in love with his grandmother, you know."

"But you are not my grandmother," said I.

"How do you know that?" she retorted. "I dare say you know something of your great-grandfathers a good deal further back than that; but you know very little about your great-grandmothers on either side. Now, to the point. Your little sister was reading a fairy-tale to you last night."

"She was."

"When she had finished, she said, as she closed the book, 'Is there a fairy-country, brother?' You replied with a sigh, 'I suppose there is, if one could find the way into it.' "

"I did; but I meant something quite different from what you seem to think."

"Never mind what I seem to think. You shall find the way into Fairy Land tomorrow. Now look in my eyes."

Eagerly I did so. They filled me with an unknown longing. I remembered somehow that my mother died when I was a baby. I looked deeper and deeper, till they spread around me like seas, and I sank in their waters. I forgot all the rest, till I found myself at the window, whose gloomy curtains were withdrawn, and where I stood gazing on a whole heaven of stars, small and sparkling in the moonlight. Below lay a sea, still as death and hoary in the moon, sweeping into bays and around capes and islands, away, away, I knew not whither. Alas! it was no sea, but a low bog burnished by the moon. "Surely there is such a sea somewhere!" said I to myself. A low sweet voice beside me replied—

"In Fairy Land, Anodos."

I turned, but saw no one. I closed the secretary, and went to my own room, and to bed.

All this I recalled as I lay with half-closed eyes. I was soon to find the truth of the lady's promise, that this day I should discover the road into Fairy Land.

CHAPTER 2

"'Wo ist der Strom?' rief er mit Thränen. 'Siehst du nicht sein blauen Wellen über uns?' Er sah hinauf, und der blaue Strom floss leise über ihrem Haupte."

"'Where is the stream?' cried he, with tears. 'Seest thou not its blue waves above us?' He looked up, and lo! the blue stream was flowing gently over their heads."

—Novalis, Heinrich von Ofterdingen


While these strange events were passing through my mind, I suddenly, as one awakes to the consciousness that the sea has been moaning by him for hours, or that the storm has been howling about his window all night, became aware of the sound of running water near me; and, looking out of bed, I saw that a large green marble basin, in which I was wont to wash, and which stood on a low pedestal of the same material in a corner of my room, was overflowing like a spring; and that a stream of clear water was running over the carpet, all the length of the room, finding its outlet I knew not where. And, stranger still, where this carpet, which I had myself designed to imitate a field of grass and daisies, bordered the course of the little stream, the grass-blades and daisies seemed to wave in a tiny breeze that followed the water's flow; while under the rivulet they bent and swayed with every motion of the changeful current, as if they were about to dissolve with it, and, forsaking their fixed form, become fluent as the waters.

My dressing-table was an old-fashioned piece of furniture of black oak, with drawers all down the front. These were elaborately carved in foliage, of which ivy formed the chief part. The nearer end of this table remained just as it had been, but on the further end a singular change had commenced. I happened to fix my eye on a little cluster of ivy-leaves. The first of these was evidently the work of the carver; the next looked curious; the third was unmistakably ivy; and just beyond it a tendril of clematis had twined itself about the gilt handle of one of the drawers. Hearing next a slight motion above me, I looked up, and saw that the branches and leaves designed upon the curtains of my bed were slightly in motion. Not knowing what change might follow next, I thought it high time to get up; and, springing from the bed, my bare feet alighted upon a cool green sward; and although I dressed in all haste, I found myself completing my toilet under the boughs of a great tree, whose top waved in the golden stream of the sunrise with many interchanging lights, and with shadows of leaf and branch gliding over leaf and branch, as the cool morning wind swung it to and fro, like a sinking sea-wave.

After washing as well as I could in the clear stream, I rose and looked around me. The tree under which I seemed to have lain all night was one of the advanced guard of a dense forest, towards which the rivulet ran. Faint traces of a footpath, much overgrown with grass and moss, and with here and there a pimpernel even, were discernible along the right bank. "This," thought I, "must surely be the path into Fairy Land, which the lady of last night promised I should so soon find." I crossed the rivulet, and accompanied it, keeping the footpath on its right bank, until it led me, as I expected, into the wood. Here I left it, without any good reason: and with a vague feeling that I ought to have followed its course, I took a more southerly direction.

CHAPTER 3

"Man doth usurp all space,
Stares thee, in rock, bush, river, in the face.
Never yet thine eyes behold a tree;
'Tis no sea thou seést in the sea,
'Tis but a disguised humanity.
To avoid thy fellow, vain thy plan;
All that interests a man, is man."

—Henry Sutton


The trees, which were far apart where i entered, giving free passage to the level rays of the sun, closed rapidly as I advanced, so that ere long their crowded stems barred the sunlight out, forming as it were a thick grating between me and the East. I seemed to be advancing towards a second midnight. In the midst of the intervening twilight, however, before I entered what appeared to be the darkest portion of the forest, I saw a country maiden coming towards me from its very depths. She did not seem to observe me, for she was apparently intent upon a bunch of wild flowers which she carried in her hand. I could hardly see her face; for, though she came direct towards me, she never looked up. But when we met, instead of passing, she turned and walked alongside of me for a few yards, still keeping her face downwards, and busied with her flowers. She spoke rapidly, however, all the time, in a low tone, as if talking to herself, but evidently addressing the purport of her words to me. She seemed afraid of being observed by some lurking foe. "Trust the Oak," said she; "trust the Oak, and the Elm, and the great Beech. Take care of the Birch, for though she is honest, she is too young not to be changeable. But shun the Ash and the Alder; for the Ash is an ogre—you will know him by his thick fingers; and the Alder will smother you with her web of hair, if you let her near you at night." All this was uttered without pause or alteration of tone. Then she turned suddenly and left me, walking still with the same unchanging gait. I could not conjecture what she meant, but satisfied myself with thinking that it would be time enough to find out her meaning when there was need to make use of her warning, and that the occasion would reveal the admonition. I concluded from the flowers that she carried, that the forest could not be everywhere so dense as it appeared from where I was now walking; and I was right in this conclusion. For soon I came to a more open part, and by-and-by crossed a wide grassy glade, on which were several circles of brighter green. But even here I was struck with the utter stillness. No bird sang. No insect hummed. Not a living creature crossed my way. Yet somehow the whole environment seemed only asleep, and to wear even in sleep an air of expectation. The trees seemed all to have an expression of conscious mystery, as if they said to themselves, "We could, an' if we would." They had all a meaning look about them. Then I remembered that night is the fairies' day, and the moon their sun; and I thought—Everything sleeps and dreams now: when the night comes, it will be different. At the same time I, being a man and a child of the day, felt some anxiety as to how I should fare among the elves and other children of the night who wake when mortals dream, and find their common life in those wondrous hours that flow noiselessly over the moveless death-like forms of men and women and children, lying strewn and parted beneath the weight of the heavy waves of night, which flow on and beat them down, and hold them drowned and senseless, until the ebb-tide comes, and the waves sink away, back into the ocean of the dark. But I took courage and went on. Soon, however, I became again anxious, though from another cause. I had eaten nothing that day, and for an hour past had been feeling the want of food. So I grew afraid lest I should find nothing to meet my human necessities in this strange place; but once more I comforted myself with hope and went on.

Before noon, I fancied I saw a thin blue smoke rising amongst the stems of larger trees in front of me; and soon I came to an open spot of ground in which stood a little cottage, so built that the stems of four great trees formed its corners, while their branches met and intertwined over its roof, heaping a great cloud of leaves over it, up towards the heavens. I wondered at finding a human dwelling in this neighbourhood; and yet it did not look altogether human, though sufficiently so to encourage me to expect to find some sort of food. Seeing no door, I went round to the other side, and there I found one, wide open. A woman sat beside it, preparing some vegetables for dinner. This was homely and comforting. As I came near, she looked up, and seeing me, showed no surprise, but bent her head again over her work, and said in a low tone:

"Did you see my daughter?"

"I believe I did," said I. "Can you give me something to eat, for I am very hungry?"

"With pleasure," she replied, in the same tone; "but do not say anything more, till you come into the house, for the Ash is watching us."

Having said this, she rose and led the way into the cottage; which, I now saw, was built of the stems of small trees set closely together, and was furnished with rough chairs and tables, from which even the bark had not been removed. As soon as she had shut the door and set a chair—


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Phantastes by George MacDonald. Copyright © 2011 Hendrickson Publishers Marketing, LLC. Excerpted by permission of Hendrickson Publishers Marketing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 41 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(20)

4 Star

(5)

3 Star

(5)

2 Star

(6)

1 Star

(5)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 41 Customer Reviews
  • Posted April 3, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Travels through Fairy Land, by one of Lewis' and Tolkien's favorite authors.

    Perhaps it was my high expectations which have cooled my impressions of Phantastes: for C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, two of my favorite authors, both considered this man among their highest inspirations. (Lewis once said that MacDonald was his master, and that he could not think of a book he had written in which he had not quoted the nineteenth century poet, proto-fantasist and sermon writer.) Don't get me wrong -- I enjoyed this book, for it was filled with images of beauty, subtle power, and transportation, infused with a melancholy which aroused longing rather than dampened it. The story of Anodos, a skeptical young man who finds himself one morning in Fairy Land, and of his journeys and travels there, in which he begins by searching for his Ideal beauty, and ends by losing his Shadow and his pride, is a well crafted and meaningful one. And the theme of Death, not as a curse, but as a gift, as a doorway to fulfillment of desire, is resonant and beautiful and true. But it lacks the meaning and mystery, the truth and transcendance, of Lewis' fantasies (both in his Ransom trilogy and his Narnia chronicles).

    5 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted November 23, 2010

    An immersive and Heartwarming Fairy Tale

    This book is filled with awe and wonder, illustrating an imaginative fairy tale world inhabited by timeless characters. The story is heartwarming, although its allegorical imagery is about impossible to decipher, and the author's poetry within the book is not even the second best I have read. But if you can get passed these subtle disappointments, it's overall a very good story, and it sucked me right in from the very beginning. I highly recommend it.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted August 29, 2010

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    The Fantasy that inspired so many others

    C.S. Lewis referred to George MacDonald as "his master." That's quite a compliment coming from an author as world-renowned and loved as C.S. Lewis. However, C.S. Lewis was not the only writer to be inspired by MacDonald; Lewis Carroll, W.H. Auden, G.K Chesterton, Mark Twain, Madeleine L'Engle, J.R.R. Tolkien, and E. Nesbit were also influenced by MacDonald's writing.

    Phantastes is a fantasy into which you must immerse yourself to appreciate. (Phantastes was the novel that C.S. Lewis said baptized his imagination.) The central character, Anodos, steps out of our world and enters a fantastic world, rich in imagery and full of memorable sub-plots. Like many of MacDonald's other stories, it is a story of death, but as C.S Lewis was quick to notice, it is a good death.

    What I love most about MacDonald's romantic fantasies are the beautiful images he paints, the interwoven sub-plots, and the deep truths that under-gird his stories. His meandering style (mentioned above) helps me to lose myself in the story rather than trying to guess at where he might be going with every twist or turn. I also like the fact that you never really leave his stories behind. Instead, you go on thinking about them, returning to them, wondering and wandering about them. MacDonald's protagonists are continually stepping into and out of the present, everyday world and the fantastic, extraordinary other-world. I find this simply fascinating.

    If you are like stories that are both deep and rich in imagination, you're likely to enjoy Phantastes. (If you wish to add this book to your home library, I like the ones published by Johannesen best. They have a lovely binding and are facsimiles of the original printing. If you prefer paperback, then I recommend Eerdmans because they include C.S. Lewis' introduction.)

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 31, 2002

    PhanTASTES

    When I bought this book, I thought it said 'Phantasies.' As i began to read,m i realised the truth and realised that 'Phantastes' is more appropriate. I'd never read a book like it before. Now, I'd read most of George MacDonald's works by then, but he is always surprising. This book is a sketchbook, exactly like an artist's, only with words. The imagery in this book is MacDonald's very best. However, it must be admitted that the plot is rather lacking. I would suggest reading Phantastes first, but definiely read this book. You will realize the size of the debt Tolkein and Lewis owe Rev. MacDaonald

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted February 15, 2013

    I Also Recommend:

    Dream-like

    This book tells the tale of a man who enters Fairyland and the adventures that he has there. "Phantastes" obviously influenced J.R.R. Tolien and C.S. Lewis. Although I gave this book five stars, its queerness really renders it outside of any rating system.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 4, 2013

    Horrible book, unreadable

    Horrendous spelling errors...dont bother.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 4, 2013

    Unreadable

    This book is unreadable because of the errors in the text. If you like trying to figure out what hhh means from context then you will enjoy this book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 5, 2011

    Caveat Emptor

    The book is good, but the free nook-book is full of typos.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted September 15, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    Fabulous

    Wonderful book! Very fantastic, engaging, and thought provoking.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 12, 2003

    not to my taste

    I love L'engle and I own almost everything C.S. Lewis has written, but I didn't thoroughly enjoy this book. It was well-written, but I never felt drawn into the story. I agree that you should just take your time and enjoy each scene, rather than try to plod through quickly (which is possibly why I didn't get much out of this book).

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 20, 2002

    Life changing

    Absolutely the best book I have ever read and most likely will ever read! Imagination at its best! His book has what I call the third deminsion. Not just a plot and not just great writing but a deeper meaning. The monsters are not just bad because they are monsters but because they are all apart of evil.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted July 5, 2002

    Purity and Truth

    Anyone who has sincerely searched for truth and meaning in life will be comforted and enlightened by this amazing book. This book displays the depth of MacDonalds relationship with God and perhaps his own spiritual journey. It awakens every desire in you while purifying your soul. For some like myself this book will be life changing.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 24, 2000

    Deep, Heady, Meditative

    This is the first book I read after THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE, and I do recommend it. If you enjoy getting lost in a haze of mysticism as a good narrator leads you through a twisted maze of fantasy and philosophy, you'll enjoy this work of MacDonald. A word of caution - this book needs and deserves quiet time for you to ponder it and truly delve into it. It is something that is hard to read while traveling or feeling tense because you need the heaviness to settle in your brain. This book makes you think, and feel, and wonder. If you don't have the time or the mental capacity for it, don't bother. If you do have the time and the thoughtfulness to appreciate it, by all means.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 27, 2013

    Ur kidding

    Maybe its just me but this was some tedious reading, constantly decifering the vocab didnt help either, this is worse than any other work i,ve read so far, i will never finish reading this.............

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted July 28, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    MacDonald is a master

    This was my first experience with a George MacDonald story. I've read some of his poetry but unfortunately have a hard time finding his novels in stores. After reading Phantastes I will go to whatever lengths I must in order to find more of his work. There is a reason that George MacDonald is the unacquainted mentor of C.S. Lewis. He truly is the originator of spiritual fantasy. This book connects so well with who we are, how we have fallen, and how we can still be the men and women we are meant to be. For me this was a fun albeit dramatic journey through a magical world, and in the end lit a fire inside of me that I have not felt for some time.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 1, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 9, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted May 22, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 18, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted December 11, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 41 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)