Fantasies can fly as far off the beaten track as
their authors can imagine, but they have to have some internal
consistency and rules that are discernible and make sense. Fantasy may
not be real, but it has to feel as if it could be. Veteran author Jenny
Nimmo knows how to write a story that will keep you turning the pages,
but by the end you're likely to wonder what it was all about. Nothing
here makes sense, or has any obvious reason behind it, and the reader
is left with only questions.
What is magic
about these objects? Why does the wind want them? How does the magic
work? What happened to Gwyn's sister, why does she come back, why is
she changed, why don't her parents seem to mind, why does she have to
return again? What is the deal with the supposed evil power, and how
does Gwyn know how to trap it? And on and on. This story is pleasant
enough while you're reading it, but deeply unsatisfying by the end.
Perhaps the sequels explain some of this, but it's all so nonsensical
that it's hard to muster up the will to care. This reads like sloppy,
tossed-off work from an author who should know better.