The Snow Child

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey
 
I love fairy tales. Even though my memory of my childhood is patchy and poor, I do remember vividly one particular book that was a collection of Grimms’ fairy tales. I even remember where I slept (or didn’t as I was hooked), the pale green fabric binding of the library book itself, the nightstand where I set it before falling to sleep. The Snow Child brought back that experience. The images were so delightful—so delicate—so delicious—I wanted to pace myself so not to devour it too quickly. I wanted to extend the experience, to not let go. You know those books you don’t want to end? This was one for me.
      There is nothing quite like reading a book that has you so involved you are with the people (notice I didn’t say characters!), in the setting, feeling their feelings, along on their journey. What is real? And what is fairy tale? Does that even matter? You’ll not regret this beauty.