Dreams Underfoot (Mass Market Paperback)

Another reviewer wrote that Dreams Underfoot is a gift. This could not be more true. Charles de Lint has created a universe parallel to the one in which we live, but he has crafted it so delicately, so skilfully, and so beautifully, that it becomes achingly real to us, the readers.

I have purchased several copes of this book. I feel compelled to lend it to every person I know and love, since it was through a borrowed book that I first read Dreams Underfoot myself. After my personally perchased copy of the book took numerous journeys, it became quite tattered and forlorn, so I purchased another. And when it was leant out on all the occasions I wanted to return to Newford, I decided to purchase a 'stay-at-home' copy, just for me.

I cannot encourage you enough to read this book, and all the Newford tales to follow. If you have ever had a day where you felt the need to reconnect with the beauty and truth and magic that lives both within and outside us - this book contains that spark.

Read this book. It changes everything...

Most of his stories deal with the adventures of Jilly Coppercorn, who is (of course) gifted with gamine good looks and artistic ability. Like most of the sympathetic characters, she flits about nattering on about all the things that one suspects De Lint himself likes, name-dropping artists and writers in the most annoying way. The dialogue is stilted, unnatural, melodramatic, and downright laughable in places.

There were moments where the plotlines or premises piqued my interest, but for the most part De Lint's self-satisfied, smug tone made short work of any hopes for a decent story among the bunch. Perhaps I was unimpressed by his faerie-within-the-urban-world schtick because I take that kind of thing for granted, but the characters didn't grip me at all and in fact actively annoyed me with their snooty artsy attitudes or "noble savage" antics.

If you've got time while you're dying your hair or waiting for the potatoes to boil, go ahead and give this book a whack. And then whack it against the wall, over and over until the binding snaps and it flies into a million pieces.