Catch a fallen star . . .
Tristran thorn promised to bring back a fallen star. So he sets out on a journey to fulfill the request of his beloved, the hauntingly beautiful Victoria Forester—and stumbles into the enchanted realm that lies beyond the wall of his English country town. Rich with adventure and magic, Stardust is one of master storyteller Neil Gaiman's most beloved tales, and the inspiration for the hit movie.
me own so much, I gets used to settin’ me own pace.” They walked side by side, in the golden-green light of the sun through the newly opened leaves. It was a quality of light Tristran had observed, unique to springtime. He wondered if they had left summer as far behind as October. From time to time Tristran would remark on a flash of color in a tree or bush, and the little hairy man would say something like, “Kingfisher. Mr. Halcyon they used to call him. Pretty bird,” or “Purple hummingbird.
and placed her upon the deck. Tristran clambered over the railing himself and tumbled down onto the oaken deck. The ruddy-faced man extended a hand. “Welcome aboard,” he said. “This is the Free Ship Perdita, bound on a lightning-hunting expedition. Captain Johannes Alberic, at your service.” He coughed, deep in his chest. And then, before Tristran could say a word in reply, the captain spied Tristran’s left hand and called “Meggot! Meggot! Blast you, where are you? Over here! Passengers in need
with no such provision for myself) that you can neither see me nor hear me?” The witch made no reply. She walked up to the driver’s seat, sat down and took up the reins. The exotic bird hopped up beside her and it chirruped, once, curiously. “Of course I have kept my word—to the letter,” said the old woman, as if in reply. “He shall be transformed back at the market meadow, so shall regain his own form before he comes to Wall. And after I have turned him back, I shall make you human again, for
if we have long since lost from the Perrault story the Prince’s cannibal mother; and Red Riding Hood ends these days with a rescue, not with the child being eaten, because that is the form of the story that has survived. Once upon a time, Orpheus brought Eurydice back alive from Hades. But that is not the version of the tale that has survived. (Fairy Tales, as G.K. Chesterton once pointed out, are not true. They are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because
it: the strange collection of homegrown myths and beliefs, the ways that America explains itself to itself. Maybe I’ve made an awful mess of it all, but I can’t say that worries me as badly as I think it ought to. The joy of the book was putting my thoughts into some kind of order, it was actually learning what I think. Ask me with a gun to my head if I believe in them, all the gods and myths that I write about, and I’d have to say no. Not literally. Not in the daylight, nor in