The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two (Fairyland, Book 3)
Catherynne M. Valente
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
“One of the most extraordinary works of fantasy, for adults or children, published so far this century.”—TIME Magazine, on the Fairyland series
September misses Fairyland and her friends Ell, the Wyverary, and the boy Saturday. She longs to leave the routines of home, and embark on a new adventure. Little does she know that this time, she will be spirited away to the moon, reunited with her friends, and find herself faced with saving Fairyland from a moon-Yeti with great and mysterious powers.
Here is another rich, beautifully told, wisely humorous, and passionately [layered] book from New York Times-bestselling author, Catherynne M. Valente.
boardwalk: an atlas the size of a boat, open to its frontispiece, which read: MERCATOR, TOWN OF. FIRST EDITION PUBLISHED 1203. EDITOR: KING CRUNCHCRAB I. LAYOUT AND DESIGN: CADASTRAL CROSSHATCH, ESQ. ALL PERSONS, EVENTS, CRIMES AND CRIMINALS, MAGIC, MAYHEM, AND THREATS OF BODILY HARM USED BY PERMISSION. VISITORS OF LOW REPUTATION REPORT TO THE WAY STATION IMMEDIATELY. ALL OTHERS KEEP OUT. “Well, I don’t think I have a low reputation!” opined September, catching her breath. A wild,
Saturday lifted his eyes to hers and she saw the same plea there: Don’t leave us. We’ve only just found each other again. “Don’t you worry about them,” Candlestick crooned comfortingly. “A girl’s fate is her only possession, her unflappable friend, her truest mate. When everyone else has gone, her fate remains. Closer than a shadow, kinder than a death. Some things are to be done in private, such as weeping, praying, embezzlement, and the writing of novels. I’ll set them up with a nice spread
the air. The balloon’s basket rocked back but did not break. A hissing blast mark blossomed on its woven grass, joining many other smoking star-shapes already there. “Call that a love letter, do you, Marigold? Smells like a burnt bugbear’s least favorite beehive.” The tinny, thin laughter tittered out again. It came all the way up through the pool, softening and quieting and thinning out along the way. September peered down into the pond. The balloon’s stripes gleamed white and teal. Jets of
barn dances, say hello to old friends, and then circle apart again. There’s planets up in the sky for every cup, and every cup fashions itself as a miniature of its planet. This one is called Azimuth.” He flushed with pleasure, to be the one who knew something. “It’s in the constellation called Wolf’s Egg. Do you remember?” September smiled. In remembering, the unpeerable thing in her softened and she held out her hand. “Yes. The night we slept by Calpurnia Farthing’s fire. Ain’t what’s strong,
as a sapling, into the flesh of the blister with infinite slowness and patience. He dug inside like a lemur scratching for insects. A distant thundering, quivering sound bubbled up around them, from everywhere and nowhere. “Yetis are better than that. We have to be. We are the Moon’s children.” “If you’re the Moon’s child,” September cried, “how can you hurt it so? What is that thing coming out of the ground? I should never crack my mother’s bones and shake her limbs the way you’ve done!” As if