Recently I’ve been reviewing old favorites by Charles de Lint, but today’s entry — a collection of short stories published by Subterranean Press — is a brand-new book. So new, as a matter of fact, that it won’t be released until either May, if you look at the back of the ARC, or October, if you ask a major online book retailer. According to the publisher’s website, though, it has just gone off to the printer’s and will be released next month. I trust them a little more.

I would like to talk for just a moment about Subterranean Press. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but they produce truly amazing book-objects. They are all fully cloth-bound; the covers are always exquisite; the insides, also, are well-designed. Many of their more expensive editions are printed in more than one color. They have a contract with some publishers (including Baen) to do limited, special editions of their works, and while I don’t have enough money to spend $125 on one book, I’ve been sorely tempted more than once. All of their books are available for purchase through their website, including this one.

This collection of short stories is very short — only 64 pages — and contains five stories and an introduction. (There is a sixth story in the limited edition, but the ARC doesn’t contain it, alas.) Each of these stories was written for a specific child in de Lint’s life, and they were written to accompany the dolls or stuffed animals that his wife, Mary Ann Harris, made as gifts. As such, each story centers around a child, normally no more than ten, and an encounter with something magical.

The first story delighted me greatly, because it had a young Sophie Etoile. Sophie is one of his recurring characters in the Newford series; her mother is fey of some sort, and she travels to a dreamland when she falls asleep. Jilly Coppercorn and Sophie are very good friends. I wasn’t expecting to meet an old friend (as a child) in this collection, but I’m certainly happy that I did.

Pictures of the dolls and stuffed animals that inspired the stories come before each story; there are also butterflies and faeries interspersed with the text. My favorite text decoration is the little winged fey who surround each page number. The pages aren’t too busy for my tastes, but they are certainly aesthetically appealing. A picture of a girl puckering up to kiss a frog forms the basis of the cover; it’s perhaps too realistic for what’s contained within the pages.

Each tale has its own moment of wonder, whether it’s the appearance of a sea kitten (not to be confused with a sea lion), or a maple leaf leading a child home. The simplicity of the tales highlights the moment of wonder; as an adult reading the stories, I could almost remember the joy of being a child and discovering that the world is wider than I might have believed. The stories, I believe, would be at their best when used as originally intended: to read aloud to children. De Lint’s voice is so alive that you can nearly hear him telling the stories; you can almost imagine that the stories weren’t written, but transcribed. They are fairy tales, to be sure, but urban fairy tales.

One of the stories — “Tip & the Lion” — covers the idea of story truth versus objective truth, although it doesn’t quite use those words.

“Was that a real story or just a pretend story?” Tip asked after a moment.
…
“Sometimes,” [Tip's grandmother] said, “they can be the same thing.”

That idea lies at the heart of all of these stories. While the real children upon whom the characters are based didn’t see gnomes outside, one can only hope that they experienced a bit of the same wonder, seeing their names in a story, and receiving the dolls and stuffed animals. Each story is its own fully realized little world, and I’d give the collection 5/5 stars and a strong recommendation for anyone reading stories to children between the ages of about five and ten.