I finished up the last book of the Prydain Chronicles, "The High King," last night. After finishing it, I put the book down and thought about the Chronicles. I'm still thinking about them.
They're wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
The ending isn't the happy fairytale ending - it's bittersweet. Almost tragic.
The Chronicles serve as the beginning of legend. It becomes a mythology...the very beginning of a country that had existed for several hundred years already...it's hard to explain but it's something that calls to you and seems familiar, as if we could have come from such beginnings.
I read that Lloyd Alexander cried for three days after finishing the last book. I definitely had tears in my eyes while reading the last chapters, agonizing over what was happening.
It reminds me of something C.S. Lewis said - after putting down the book, I was happy, but it was the solemn kind of joy.
The Prydain Chronicles have won several awards throughout the years, understandably, and they have just one another loyal fan.
I'm just sad Lloyd Alexander isn't alive to read another fan letter. :(
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