61Mr62JjbZL._SL160_“She was afraid, and she was brave, and she would not let her father be harmed.”

Because I loved her first book, Summer and Bird, so fiercely and deeply, I read Katherine Catmull’s next book The Radiant Road the minute it came out. But for some reason, I didn’t profile it here at that time, despite it also being a Girls Underground story (and yet, completely different than her first book). I can only chalk that up to my being totally absorbed in the magic of this story, so much that I didn’t set aside a part of my mind to analyze it in the context of the archetype. Which says a lot about the power of this book!

Clare, almost-fifteen, has returned to Ireland, the land of her birth and of her mother’s early death, with her father. They move back into her ancestral home, an ancient stone structure built around a living yew tree (and oh, how I will ever after dream of living in such a place!). And very quickly, Clare begins to learn, and to remember: about the fairy road that passes through her home, about the fairy “makings” – the art they create in our world, echoing her own hidden art – about her childhood friend Finn who is not wholly human or fairy, about her sacred heritage and duty as guardian of the tree. And of course, there is a looming threat – an Adversary who is out to destroy the fairy gates so that he can avert his prophesied doom.

Clare must learn to accept fairy (or, as she prefers to call it, the Strange), and move within it with volition, in order to save her father, and to preserve the connection between fairy and our world. She is helped by Finn, and by an intimidating fairy Hunter who gives her instructions and a boon, but is harsh when Clare appears to fail.

After making a terrible mistake, Clare journeys below to the center of the labyrinth to confront her own beast. As time is running out, she discovers her own inner fortitude. When the Adversary attacks, she stands against him.

Like her first book, what makes this one stand out from all the other GU books I’ve read is the arresting beauty of the language, the way the author can convey a very particular feeling so precisely through unique and often haunting metaphors and descriptions. In addition, this one is close to my heart because of the way it speaks about art, and the collaboration (though often long-distance) between human and fairy, with us making in our dreams and sometimes with our words and hands, whereas they bring their magic into our world due to the poignancy of its ephemeral nature, creating art out of the very stuff of our reality. That each sacred gate to the otherworld must be unlocked through a specific act (playing, singing, dancing) also rings very true to me, echoing my own experiences at such sites, which often speak very clearly what they want from you, if you are silent and still enough to listen.

“And back then, in waking life, fairy-makings abounded. Her world was the broad refrigerator door where the Strange posted their art, just like she posted hers at home.”