Originally posted on my SFF Chronicles blog, August 2013.
When I was a child, my favourite authors were those who wrote about ordinary children, children like myself, who encounter magic in their lives. C.S. Lewis’ Narnia, E. Nesbit with her flying carpets, amulets and the Psammead…
I have a quote I love from E. Nesbit’s The Enchanted Castle.
“There is a curtain, thin as gossamer, clear as glass, strong as iron, that hangs forever between the world of magic and the world that seems to us to be real. And when once people have found one of the little weak spots in that curtain which are marked by magic rings, and amulets, and the like, almost anything may happen.”
Like many other children, I was sure that if I said the right word, or opened the right door, or found the right ring, I, too, would be allowed to enter this world of magic.
It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized that the magic was there all along, my constant companion. The gateway, the portal, accessible and open to any who wished to enter, simply by diving, headlong, into a deep pool of words.
Magic was a book, and an infinity of worlds awaited.
Juliana Spink Mills 