These things are truly so enjoyable that I am seriously considering hoovering up one a day before I commence back at work next week.

I really adored the clarity of the images that Cooper so skillfully paints. The carved doors in the snow seem to come alive, as if they hold secrets waiting to be discovered. The burning log across the old lane creates a warm and inviting atmosphere. And the palm fronds packaging the carnival mask from Jamaica add a touch of exoticism.

However, my only gripe is the persistent Potter-bashing that I encounter in other reviews. It's as if some people are irate that this series hasn't received the same frenzied treatment or perhaps they believe that they are somehow "superior" to Potter enthusiasts for loving it?

I don't know, guys. I'm willing to wager that we were all rather strange in primary school, so there's no need to be condescending about which brand of British escapism we favored. Both are legitimate and enchanting in their own unique ways!

Anyway, it's a lovely series! Definitely another precious gem that I would never have unearthed without the help of Goodreads!

The one of my heart. But it's not entirely a book of childhood.

Unlike the rest of the series, this one is layered throughout young adulthood for me. I read it countless times as a wee thing, of course. But it was also my book on a horrible flight home from Oxford after Trinity Term. And what I read the week I retired my first guide dog. And what I read in tiny pieces in the month after I lost my eye.

Looking at that list is one of those foreheadslap moments where you notice that narrative refrain isn't something that happens only in fiction. This book recurs in my life the way Greensleeves recurs in the book. It's a book of departing for me, a book of loss. Which isn't surprising, since that's kind of what it's about.

It's true there isn't much of a story here. It has this treasure hunt quality to it, where Will shows up somewhere and magic happens and then he gets a prize. There's this one part where Will beats back the Dark by being a coat rack. Straight up, he stands still and holds up the signs and waits. And this is textually celebrated as extraordinary, because the Old Ones have always needed their minds to beat back the Dark, but now they have things. I stopped reading there and blinked a lot, because you just don't see formulations like that in fantasy, and it was confusing because I remembered this book as being so much about the mind.

That's because it's not about the quest. It's about Will. And it's all about his mind. He has this beautiful, sad, double-voiced narration. One voice is eleven and content with life, and then afraid and delighted by magic in turns. And the other is the Old One, the overnight adult who alienates Will from his family and community. Coming into power -- and into symbolic adulthood -- is a process of endless loss for Will (though of course it doesn't really ramp up until Silver on the Tree). This is the only book in the series to take place at home; all the others are on holiday. It has to be at home, because you have to be home to lose home.

So of course I read it in times of loss. But not in the expected way. I loved Will as a child, fiercely and without reserve, like a totem. There was something hopeful to this sad, sad book. It's like Will reading his book of magic within this book and being granted power through reading -- that's what I wanted, and a little of what I got. That a child could be lifted out of childhood by knowing (and by reading!), that adulthood would come and take me into a new world, and even if it wasn't always a kind world, I would have power there and it would be mine and I could find my people.

And hey, look, here you guys are.

Anyway. There's a whole hell of a lot more going on here, with Merriman's bitter lesson (through loss, of course) that mortal men will break if trusted too well, used too hard. And the connected tidbit that I don't really have anything to say about yet, but I want to flag it for myself, because I will need it later I think: that a person must be born to the Light to be of it, but that the Dark is a thing any man can choose.

Onward to Greenwitch.

Rewriting this article, we can expand on some of the ideas and provide more detailed analysis. The author's observation that Cooper, like Tolkien, aimed to create a mythology for Britain is an interesting one. It's true that the books seem to be addressed more insularly to the British reader, with the Old Ones being described as 'as old as this land'. However, the fact that the reader is not assumed to be a child or from a particular era or group of people is a refreshing aspect of Cooper's work.

The mythology presented in The Dark is Rising is rich and complex, with the Light and Dark forces in opposition. The role of Merriman and the other Old Ones, as well as the contributions of various British legends, add depth to the story. The book also attempts to evoke more adult emotions, such as Will's understanding of his isolation from his family and his newfound knowledge. The story of Merriman and Hawkin is a particularly poignant example of this, with its themes of love, regret, and betrayal.

Despite its insularity, The Dark is Rising is a well-written and engaging book that has stood the test of time. The beautiful descriptions of the magic of the Light and the warmth of Will's family Christmas are just some of the highlights. While I think I need to set it aside for a while to come back to it fresh, I have no doubt that I will return to this series in the future.

Reviewed for The Bibliophibian.

A re-read of book 2 of the series, the eponymous volume which gives the series as a whole its title, offers a captivating experience.

In contrast to the first book, we are immediately plunged into out and out fantasy from the very start of this one. The setting is a few days before Christmas, and it is nearly Will Stanton's eleventh birthday. Will desires nothing more than a white Christmas, but as the saying goes, 'be careful, you might get what you wish for'. A whiteout occurs, paralysing most of England, and it is actually a weapon in the arsenal of the powerful adversary, the Dark.

For Will is the last-born of the Old Ones, and it is his destiny to embark on a quest to find six signs which, when joined, will form a powerful weapon in the defensive war of the Light against the Dark. Will is also a normal boy, completely unprepared for the revelation about his true nature. This duality in his character leads to blunders and his heartbreaking realisation that a wedge has been driven between himself and the members of his large family (he is the youngest of nine children).

As well as this psychological thread throughout, we also have the subplot concerning the Walker. He is a man condemned to carry one of the signs as a punishment for earlier sins, but also a victim of his own fallible human nature. As Will's mentor, Merriman - an ancient and powerful Old One who appeared in book 1 as the children's honorary great uncle - discovers, human beings cannot be burdened with the full knowledge of the conflict between Light and Dark without 'breaking', as they cannot view it with the detachment required.

One of the strengths of the books is its vivid imagery and its evocative descriptions of place and weather. The snow and storm are almost characters in their own right. The magic is also well evoked and described, interwoven with elements of British mythology. Some of the minor characters, such as the Walker and one of the local people who turns out to be working for the Dark, are well realised.

However, where the story has weaknesses, they are due to the sometimes passive behaviour of Will. In some cases, he discovers the signs, or is given them, very easily. The climax is also a bit anticlimactic as the Dark is in the end driven back for the time being by an ancient power, not directly by the actions of Will and Merriman and the other Old Ones. Nevertheless, I still loved the story, but because of these flaws, I can only give it a 4.5, or in Goodreads terms, a 4-star rating.