Stardust is one of Neil Gaiman’s most delightful stories. It’s the tale of Tristan Thorn who finds himself journeying beyond the small village of Wall and into Faerie. Tristan is chasing a fallen star, which he hopes to bring back to the girl he hopes to marry. Miss Victoria Forester believes she’s sent Tristan on a fool’s errand but he does indeed find the star. And she’s broken her leg in the fall.
This story dances like sunlight through the forest trees on a warm summer evening. It is magical and delightful. There’s a bit of danger, a lot of adventure, and some excellent characters.
The events that follow transpired many years ago. Queen Victoria was on the throne of England, but she was not yet the black-clad widow of Windsor: she had apples in her cheeks and a spring in her step, and Lord Melbourne often had cause to upbraid, gently, the young queen for her flightiness. She was, as yet, unmarried, although she was very much in love.
Mr. Charles Dickens was serializing his novel Oliver Twist; Mr. Draper had just taken the first photograph of the moon, freezing her pale face on cold paper; Mr. Morse had recently announced a way of transmitting messages down metal wires.
Had you mentioned magic or Faerie to any of them, they would have smiled at you disdainfully, except, perhaps for Mr. Dickens, at the time a young man, and beardless. He would have looked at you wistfully.
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Stardust is perfect for fans of Neil Gaiman, also anyone who enjoyed The Midnight Library or Eleanor Oliphant. There’s whimsy, magic, and a story of growing up.