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The Last Unicorn |
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Peter S. Beagle |
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The 1980's movie,
very good
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"Unicorns are immortal. It is their nature to live alone in one place: usually a forest where there is a pool clear enough for them to see themselves-for they are a little vain, knowing themselves to be the most beautiful creatures in all the world, and magic besides...It was always spring in her forest, because she lived there, and she wandered all day among the great beech trees, keeping watch over the animals that lived in the ground and under bushes, in nests and caves, earths and treetops. Generation after generation, wolves and rabbits alike, they hunted and loved and had children and died, and as the unicorn did none of these things, she never grew tired of watching them." This is a classic tale of love, enchantment and unicorns. There is only one left, though they cannot die and once numbered many. She sets off to find the others after a butterfly suggests it, and winds up in a carnival, kidnapped by a witch who is the only one who knows what she truly is. But the witch is not really the only one. A man, born a magician but unable to perform any more than parlour tricks, knows her for what she is, though the carnival-goers need a false horn to know her. Riddled with references to Norse and Greek mythology and written in beautiful prose, this is a book to remember. Beagle is both humorous and touching in his descriptions of the unicorn's adventure. But do not be mistaken; the book has a decidedly bittersweet ending, with the unicorn fulfilling her quest, but it is only fitting. Such a great work of fantasy deserves record in the annals of literature, and should be read by all, young and old alike. Very highly recommended.
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"The skull was laughing again; this time making a thoughtful, almost kindly noise. "Remember what I told you about time," it said. "When I was alive, I believed-as you do- that time was at least real and solid as myself, and probably more so. I said 'one o'clock' as though I could see it, and 'Monday' as though I could find it on a map; and I let myself be hurried along from minute to minute, day to day, year to year, as though I were actually moving from one place to another. Like everyone else, I lived in a house bricked up with seconds and minutes, weekends and New Year's Days, and I never went outside until I died, because there was no other door. Now I know that I could have walked through walls." |
