The Chronicles of Faerie
(1993-2009, Ages 12 and Up)
3/3/23
I once read the urban fantasy novel, Wicked Lovely, the first in the series of the same name by Melissa Marr. Let’s just say I found it . . . lacking. But I continued with the next book, Ink Exchange, thinking maybe the story would pick up then. If the first was a chore, then the second was an absolute endurance test. If there’s one YA trope that I have next to no patience with, it’s the angsty, tormented teen who stays angsty and tormented for the sake of looking “cool” and “sexy,” instead of using that angst in engaging or meaningful ways. It’s especially frustrating when said teens are magical creatures with such a powerful legacy in human history and so much storytelling potential: faeries. Just because you surround yourself with exotic birds and flora while wearing leather and jeans and “suffering” through teen drama doesn’t mean you’re an interesting character! But even though Wicked Lovely turned out wicked boring in my personal opinion, the experience did make me appreciate this contemporary faery fantasy series all the more.
Gwen Woods is a North American teen visiting her Irish cousin, Findabhair, for a summer of fun, albeit ordinary, adventures. Laurel Blackburn has become bitter and lost ever since the unexplained death of her twin sister, Honor. And Dana Faolan fears she will never find her long-lost mother before moving from Ireland to Canada with her single father, Gabriel. These girls have little in common, except for one fantastic thing: they are each about to embark on a journey through the wilds of Ireland into the fabled realm of Faerie, home to beautiful but unpredictable immortals, strange and wondrous creatures, and the precious hopes and dreams of all humanity. Gwen must rescue Findabhair when she is chosen to be the sacrifice in an ancient and deadly ritual; Laurel learns that the tragic history behind a faerie war now brewing may hold the truth behind Honor’s death; and Dana is promised her beloved mother in exchange for delivering an urgent message to the High King himself, while evading a dark entity who wants to stop her at all costs. And regardless of the ultimate fates of their individual quests, Gwen, Laurel, and Dana must later band together along with their human and faerie allies to mend the bridge connecting Earth and Faerie before both worlds are destroyed forever.
Irish born and Canadian raised, O.R. Melling (real name G.V. Whelan) nurtured a strong wanderlust during her own teen years, hitchhiking from Canada to California and then traveling to Malaysia and Borneo. Each book is like a personalized travel guide in that sense. The opening pages show a real-world map of the specific Irish and Canadian country sides each protagonist travels in, and closing glossaries explain the various foreign words used throughout. According to fantasy author Holly Black: “Melling describes Faerieland like she’s been there.” I couldn’t agree more. As a matter of fact, I’d say her knowledge of real-world Irish mythology is on par with that of British fantasy artist Brian Froud, whose admirable credits include conceptual work on the Jim Henson films, The Dark Crystal (1982) and Labyrinth (1986). Like him, she portrays faeries as the legendary children of nature they are: dignified but wild, obliging but volatile, ever hearing and healing the heart of the universe, but never bound by human standards of good and evil. One minute she’s comparing the graceful, passionate dancing of the Faerie King Finvarra to the sublime mysteries of new life and rebirth. The next she introduces a very jolly leprechaun driving a cab like a maniac during rush hour with The Dropkick Murphys’ “Rocky Road to Dublin” on full blast. (Just try to keep your face straight at that latter image; I still can’t!)
Another great aspect is the organic, matter-of-fact way Melling venerates the bond between the practical and tangible Earth and the wild and surreal Faerie. She emphasizes how even the most rational modern people still can and do believe in the soul-healing dreams and love of nature faeries inspire, while recognizing and respecting the ordinary mortal obligations that are also important in their own right and rewarding in their own way:
“‘What does Granny think of your work?’
‘She thinks it’s brilliant. I’ll be doing something I love. Business is booming with the new currency. Other Europeans can see what they’re getting for their money. The more we unite with—’
Dara’s excitement died when he caught Gwen’s look.
‘What on earth is wrong?’
With anyone else she might have hidden it, but with him she couldn’t lie or pretend.
‘It all sounds so . . . ordinary.’
Impatience flickered in his face, then he relented.
‘Ach, Gwen! Ireland isn’t a fairy tale of wishes and dreams. It’s a real place with real people in it. We have to make our living like everyone else in the world.’
‘But what about your kingship?’ she persisted. ‘And Faerie and the old ways and everything Granny knows?’
He shook his head.
‘Why does it always have to be either/or? Mundane or magic? Body or soul? I don’t put things into separate boxes. I live with all of it.’
Suddenly Gwen understood, not only him but herself as well. Here was her problem with the fairies in a nutshell. Either. Or. Practical reality. Airy Fairyland. She was the one who made them opposites, and then kept changing her mind about which she preferred. And here were Dara and Granny, comfortable with both, because they did not see the worlds as mutually exclusive.
The two continued up the mountain, talking about their lives, their families, their hopes for the future.” (Pg. 191-192, The Hunter’s Moon).
On that note, I would argue that Gwen, Laurel, and Dana face more than just the deadly splendor of faery magic. Through their adventures, readers explore different facets of the human condition according to the girls’ highly relatable personal goals and individual fears. Gwen, for instance, has always felt plain and timid compared to her bold and beautiful cousin, feelings exacerbated in the presence of the seemingly perfect Good People. She must find the courage to fight her insecurities not only for the sake of something greater than herself, but for her own self-respect:
“Courage is not a lack of fear. It is acting despite the fear.
The words whispered inside Gwen. Her soul fluttered like a bird in a cage, yearning to be free.
“Now she made a dash for the high-stepping mare with the golden-brown mane.
‘You are for me!’ she cried.
The horse reared up, but as soon as the hooves touched the earth again Gwen saw her chance. Leaping forward to grasp the mane, she flung a leg over the shining bare back. The mare bucked ferociously to toss her away. Half-up, half-down, Gwen flapped in midair like a paper bag in the wind. She gripped so tightly her knuckles went white. But she couldn’t keep her hold. The horse’s hair began to slip through her fingers. Straining, clutching, she strove to hang on.
To no avail. With a cry of anguish, she lost her grip and fell to the ground. She rolled out of control. By the time she came to a stop, flat on her back, she was bruised and battered.
Gwen choked back her tears as she stared up at the sky. She was utterly humiliated. There they were, far above her, the fairy troop on horseback, glittering in the night like a spray of stars. She would never forget the look in their eyes as they gazed down on her. So cool and distant. Such breathtaking indifference!
[. . .]
That’s when something snapped in Gwen.
'No!’ she cried after them. ‘Don’t go without me! Not again!’
She scrambled to her feet, looking around wildly. The golden-brown mare had not gone far and appeared to be grazing innocently. But Gwen could see the tension in her limbs.
‘You are for me!’ Gwen called again, gritting her teeth. ‘If it takes all night!’
Now she ran for the horse even as the mare prepared to bolt. Gwen was quicker, spurred by a furious need to rejoin the troop. Once more she leapt at the horse’s back to grasp the mane. Once more she dangled helplessly in midair. Once more she clung with all her might. The moment seemed to stretch into forever, an unrelenting eternity of cold wind, torn fingers, and battered body. But this time she refused to let go. This time she drew on the last ounce of her strength, the last breath in her lungs. She would not let go, even if it meant being trampled to death.
Sensing the iron will of her hapless rider, the fairy steed grew calm.
In that moment of sweet stillness Gwen righted herself. She patted the mare’s neck with relief and respect.
‘Thank you, lady,’ she whispered into an elegant ear.
The mare whinnied in response and flew into the sky.” (Pg. 78-80)
For Laurel, it’s a question of faith. She’s never believed in magic, dismissing it as nonsense and preferring sports and boys over books and nature. But as much as she scorns the idea of faeries, she must be willing to sacrifice her rationality if it could bring her twin home:
“The room was definitely too stuffy. Perhaps if she got up and opened a window? But she couldn’t move. Her body felt heavy, like a lump of lead. An inkling of terror crept through her. This wasn’t right. There was an outdoor smell in the room, wet soil and leaves and the night perfume of columbine. Her eyelids began to close. She forced them open. Though the fire was nearly out, red shadows were dancing over the bookshelves. The little man’s silhouette rose up behind him, large and vaguely menacing.
She opened her mouth to yell for help, but instead she yawned.
‘Ye’ve got to fight it,’ he said, and his tone was urgent. ‘The solace of sleep. ‘Tis your human nature. It wants ye to nod off so ye can tell yourself this is all a dream.’
He leaned toward her, eyes dark and glittering.
‘’Tis no dream, girseach, and ye’ve got to accept that. We can’t be about our business till ye do. Can I give ye a little hint o’ help? Something to get ye around that wall of logic that bricks in your brain?’
[. . .]
His tone was suddenly matter-of-fact.
‘Look, stick to the essentials and never mind the existentials. Forget all the palaver about fantasy and reality. Act as if ye believe and see what happens. Is that too much to ask?’
It wasn’t. In fact, the suggestion was so simple and pragmatic it appealed to her instantly. No need to wrestle with the bigger issues. Take it a step at a time. And Laurel wanted so much to believe. She knew the stakes. Either there were more things than she had ever dreamed of, or there was nothing beyond her own experience and philosophy. And if the latter were true, there was no hope for her. She would never, ever see her sister again.
‘I’ll try.’ Her tongue felt thick and furry. She had to force the words out. ‘I’ll act . . . as if . . . I believe.’
She had no sooner uttered the words than she began to feel better. The room came back into focus. Energy returned to her limbs. The little man himself looked more solid and even normal, as he rubbed his hands gleefully.
Laurel sat up straight, her mind clear.” (Pg. 45-47, The Summer King)
Dana hopes that in finding her mother, she will find not only the love but the identity she’s been missing. During her search, she comes to discover that her Irish roots run far deeper than she ever could have imagined, and with that discovery comes a sense of belonging she didn’t know she yearned for:
“[. . .] The wolf moved closer. ‘Do you not know yet?’
What a beautiful face, Dana thought. The sleek snout was that of a thoroughbred. The eyes were pure gold, and the ears, elegant. Despite her fear, Dana didn’t back away.
Again came the voice, as rich as wild honey.
‘Do you not know who I am?’
Dana felt a thrill at the core of her being, but her mouth was dry. She couldn’t speak.
The wolf’s eyes shone with a warm yellow light.
‘In the tongue of your ancestors, what is my name?’
After a moment’s confusion, Dana realized what she meant.
‘You are a faol.’
The wolf butted her gently.
‘Think, little cub. Why does the feeling of kinship conquer your fear?’
Dana caught her breath. A surge of joy rushed through her as she realized the truth.
‘I am a Faolán. I belong to you!’
The wolf growled her approval.
‘And I to you. For I am the totem of your tribe. The guardian of your clan.’
Dana understood. Didn’t her father often speak proudly of his roots? He had told her how, in the mists of time, the earliest peoples of Ireland were named for the animals from whom they believed they were descended. The oldest families still had those names, anglicized now as the Irish language declined. [. . .] All were Faoláns: of the Clan of the Wolf.” (Pg. 169-170, The Light-Bearer’s Daughter)
The Chronicles of Faerie is neither a cliched bedtime story of tiny winged people flitting on flowers nor a pretentious teen drama with cliques all the duller for being immortal. It is a tale of beings with personalities, traits, even flaws readers can understand even while they exercise the powers of gods. None of which overshadows Melling’s mortal characters, normal but likable girls with great powers of their own that they each come to realize: not only a mature courage and compassion but a pure wonder and open-mindedness that enables them to venture beyond their physical and spiritual comfort zones. Both a comprehensive crash-course in faerie lore and a romantic adventure spanning dimensions corporeal and otherwise, The Chronicles of Faerie invites us to discover the profound humanity hidden behind the veil of divine inhumanity.
CREDITS:
All images, audio, and links belong to their respective owners; no copyright infringement is intended.
All book excerpts are from The Chronicles of Faerie: The Hunter’s Moon, The Summer King, and The Light-Bearer’s Daughter by O.R. Melling (2006-2007 paperback editions, published by Amulet Books, an imprint of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.)
MAIN THEME:
“The Call” – Briand Morrison and Roxann Berglund
Gwen Woods is a North American teen visiting her Irish cousin, Findabhair, for a summer of fun, albeit ordinary, adventures. Laurel Blackburn has become bitter and lost ever since the unexplained death of her twin sister, Honor. And Dana Faolan fears she will never find her long-lost mother before moving from Ireland to Canada with her single father, Gabriel. These girls have little in common, except for one fantastic thing: they are each about to embark on a journey through the wilds of Ireland into the fabled realm of Faerie, home to beautiful but unpredictable immortals, strange and wondrous creatures, and the precious hopes and dreams of all humanity. Gwen must rescue Findabhair when she is chosen to be the sacrifice in an ancient and deadly ritual; Laurel learns that the tragic history behind a faerie war now brewing may hold the truth behind Honor’s death; and Dana is promised her beloved mother in exchange for delivering an urgent message to the High King himself, while evading a dark entity who wants to stop her at all costs. And regardless of the ultimate fates of their individual quests, Gwen, Laurel, and Dana must later band together along with their human and faerie allies to mend the bridge connecting Earth and Faerie before both worlds are destroyed forever.
Irish born and Canadian raised, O.R. Melling (real name G.V. Whelan) nurtured a strong wanderlust during her own teen years, hitchhiking from Canada to California and then traveling to Malaysia and Borneo. Each book is like a personalized travel guide in that sense. The opening pages show a real-world map of the specific Irish and Canadian country sides each protagonist travels in, and closing glossaries explain the various foreign words used throughout. According to fantasy author Holly Black: “Melling describes Faerieland like she’s been there.” I couldn’t agree more. As a matter of fact, I’d say her knowledge of real-world Irish mythology is on par with that of British fantasy artist Brian Froud, whose admirable credits include conceptual work on the Jim Henson films, The Dark Crystal (1982) and Labyrinth (1986). Like him, she portrays faeries as the legendary children of nature they are: dignified but wild, obliging but volatile, ever hearing and healing the heart of the universe, but never bound by human standards of good and evil. One minute she’s comparing the graceful, passionate dancing of the Faerie King Finvarra to the sublime mysteries of new life and rebirth. The next she introduces a very jolly leprechaun driving a cab like a maniac during rush hour with The Dropkick Murphys’ “Rocky Road to Dublin” on full blast. (Just try to keep your face straight at that latter image; I still can’t!)
Another great aspect is the organic, matter-of-fact way Melling venerates the bond between the practical and tangible Earth and the wild and surreal Faerie. She emphasizes how even the most rational modern people still can and do believe in the soul-healing dreams and love of nature faeries inspire, while recognizing and respecting the ordinary mortal obligations that are also important in their own right and rewarding in their own way:
“‘What does Granny think of your work?’
‘She thinks it’s brilliant. I’ll be doing something I love. Business is booming with the new currency. Other Europeans can see what they’re getting for their money. The more we unite with—’
Dara’s excitement died when he caught Gwen’s look.
‘What on earth is wrong?’
With anyone else she might have hidden it, but with him she couldn’t lie or pretend.
‘It all sounds so . . . ordinary.’
Impatience flickered in his face, then he relented.
‘Ach, Gwen! Ireland isn’t a fairy tale of wishes and dreams. It’s a real place with real people in it. We have to make our living like everyone else in the world.’
‘But what about your kingship?’ she persisted. ‘And Faerie and the old ways and everything Granny knows?’
He shook his head.
‘Why does it always have to be either/or? Mundane or magic? Body or soul? I don’t put things into separate boxes. I live with all of it.’
Suddenly Gwen understood, not only him but herself as well. Here was her problem with the fairies in a nutshell. Either. Or. Practical reality. Airy Fairyland. She was the one who made them opposites, and then kept changing her mind about which she preferred. And here were Dara and Granny, comfortable with both, because they did not see the worlds as mutually exclusive.
The two continued up the mountain, talking about their lives, their families, their hopes for the future.” (Pg. 191-192, The Hunter’s Moon).
On that note, I would argue that Gwen, Laurel, and Dana face more than just the deadly splendor of faery magic. Through their adventures, readers explore different facets of the human condition according to the girls’ highly relatable personal goals and individual fears. Gwen, for instance, has always felt plain and timid compared to her bold and beautiful cousin, feelings exacerbated in the presence of the seemingly perfect Good People. She must find the courage to fight her insecurities not only for the sake of something greater than herself, but for her own self-respect:
“Courage is not a lack of fear. It is acting despite the fear.
The words whispered inside Gwen. Her soul fluttered like a bird in a cage, yearning to be free.
“Now she made a dash for the high-stepping mare with the golden-brown mane.
‘You are for me!’ she cried.
The horse reared up, but as soon as the hooves touched the earth again Gwen saw her chance. Leaping forward to grasp the mane, she flung a leg over the shining bare back. The mare bucked ferociously to toss her away. Half-up, half-down, Gwen flapped in midair like a paper bag in the wind. She gripped so tightly her knuckles went white. But she couldn’t keep her hold. The horse’s hair began to slip through her fingers. Straining, clutching, she strove to hang on.
To no avail. With a cry of anguish, she lost her grip and fell to the ground. She rolled out of control. By the time she came to a stop, flat on her back, she was bruised and battered.
Gwen choked back her tears as she stared up at the sky. She was utterly humiliated. There they were, far above her, the fairy troop on horseback, glittering in the night like a spray of stars. She would never forget the look in their eyes as they gazed down on her. So cool and distant. Such breathtaking indifference!
[. . .]
That’s when something snapped in Gwen.
'No!’ she cried after them. ‘Don’t go without me! Not again!’
She scrambled to her feet, looking around wildly. The golden-brown mare had not gone far and appeared to be grazing innocently. But Gwen could see the tension in her limbs.
‘You are for me!’ Gwen called again, gritting her teeth. ‘If it takes all night!’
Now she ran for the horse even as the mare prepared to bolt. Gwen was quicker, spurred by a furious need to rejoin the troop. Once more she leapt at the horse’s back to grasp the mane. Once more she dangled helplessly in midair. Once more she clung with all her might. The moment seemed to stretch into forever, an unrelenting eternity of cold wind, torn fingers, and battered body. But this time she refused to let go. This time she drew on the last ounce of her strength, the last breath in her lungs. She would not let go, even if it meant being trampled to death.
Sensing the iron will of her hapless rider, the fairy steed grew calm.
In that moment of sweet stillness Gwen righted herself. She patted the mare’s neck with relief and respect.
‘Thank you, lady,’ she whispered into an elegant ear.
The mare whinnied in response and flew into the sky.” (Pg. 78-80)
For Laurel, it’s a question of faith. She’s never believed in magic, dismissing it as nonsense and preferring sports and boys over books and nature. But as much as she scorns the idea of faeries, she must be willing to sacrifice her rationality if it could bring her twin home:
“The room was definitely too stuffy. Perhaps if she got up and opened a window? But she couldn’t move. Her body felt heavy, like a lump of lead. An inkling of terror crept through her. This wasn’t right. There was an outdoor smell in the room, wet soil and leaves and the night perfume of columbine. Her eyelids began to close. She forced them open. Though the fire was nearly out, red shadows were dancing over the bookshelves. The little man’s silhouette rose up behind him, large and vaguely menacing.
She opened her mouth to yell for help, but instead she yawned.
‘Ye’ve got to fight it,’ he said, and his tone was urgent. ‘The solace of sleep. ‘Tis your human nature. It wants ye to nod off so ye can tell yourself this is all a dream.’
He leaned toward her, eyes dark and glittering.
‘’Tis no dream, girseach, and ye’ve got to accept that. We can’t be about our business till ye do. Can I give ye a little hint o’ help? Something to get ye around that wall of logic that bricks in your brain?’
[. . .]
His tone was suddenly matter-of-fact.
‘Look, stick to the essentials and never mind the existentials. Forget all the palaver about fantasy and reality. Act as if ye believe and see what happens. Is that too much to ask?’
It wasn’t. In fact, the suggestion was so simple and pragmatic it appealed to her instantly. No need to wrestle with the bigger issues. Take it a step at a time. And Laurel wanted so much to believe. She knew the stakes. Either there were more things than she had ever dreamed of, or there was nothing beyond her own experience and philosophy. And if the latter were true, there was no hope for her. She would never, ever see her sister again.
‘I’ll try.’ Her tongue felt thick and furry. She had to force the words out. ‘I’ll act . . . as if . . . I believe.’
She had no sooner uttered the words than she began to feel better. The room came back into focus. Energy returned to her limbs. The little man himself looked more solid and even normal, as he rubbed his hands gleefully.
Laurel sat up straight, her mind clear.” (Pg. 45-47, The Summer King)
Dana hopes that in finding her mother, she will find not only the love but the identity she’s been missing. During her search, she comes to discover that her Irish roots run far deeper than she ever could have imagined, and with that discovery comes a sense of belonging she didn’t know she yearned for:
“[. . .] The wolf moved closer. ‘Do you not know yet?’
What a beautiful face, Dana thought. The sleek snout was that of a thoroughbred. The eyes were pure gold, and the ears, elegant. Despite her fear, Dana didn’t back away.
Again came the voice, as rich as wild honey.
‘Do you not know who I am?’
Dana felt a thrill at the core of her being, but her mouth was dry. She couldn’t speak.
The wolf’s eyes shone with a warm yellow light.
‘In the tongue of your ancestors, what is my name?’
After a moment’s confusion, Dana realized what she meant.
‘You are a faol.’
The wolf butted her gently.
‘Think, little cub. Why does the feeling of kinship conquer your fear?’
Dana caught her breath. A surge of joy rushed through her as she realized the truth.
‘I am a Faolán. I belong to you!’
The wolf growled her approval.
‘And I to you. For I am the totem of your tribe. The guardian of your clan.’
Dana understood. Didn’t her father often speak proudly of his roots? He had told her how, in the mists of time, the earliest peoples of Ireland were named for the animals from whom they believed they were descended. The oldest families still had those names, anglicized now as the Irish language declined. [. . .] All were Faoláns: of the Clan of the Wolf.” (Pg. 169-170, The Light-Bearer’s Daughter)
The Chronicles of Faerie is neither a cliched bedtime story of tiny winged people flitting on flowers nor a pretentious teen drama with cliques all the duller for being immortal. It is a tale of beings with personalities, traits, even flaws readers can understand even while they exercise the powers of gods. None of which overshadows Melling’s mortal characters, normal but likable girls with great powers of their own that they each come to realize: not only a mature courage and compassion but a pure wonder and open-mindedness that enables them to venture beyond their physical and spiritual comfort zones. Both a comprehensive crash-course in faerie lore and a romantic adventure spanning dimensions corporeal and otherwise, The Chronicles of Faerie invites us to discover the profound humanity hidden behind the veil of divine inhumanity.
CREDITS:
All images, audio, and links belong to their respective owners; no copyright infringement is intended.
All book excerpts are from The Chronicles of Faerie: The Hunter’s Moon, The Summer King, and The Light-Bearer’s Daughter by O.R. Melling (2006-2007 paperback editions, published by Amulet Books, an imprint of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.)
MAIN THEME:
“The Call” – Briand Morrison and Roxann Berglund
EPISODE SONGS:
“Eternal Dance” - George Ellsworth
“Eternal Dance” - George Ellsworth
“Valley of the Faeries” - George Ellsworth
Download the full 15-minute episode here!
O.R. Melling on Wikipedia
The Chronicles of Faerie on Wikipedia
The Chronicles of Faerie on O.R. Melling's Official Website
The Chronicles of Faerie on Goodreads
Buy The Chronicles of Faerie on Amazon
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O.R. Melling on Wikipedia
The Chronicles of Faerie on Wikipedia
The Chronicles of Faerie on O.R. Melling's Official Website
The Chronicles of Faerie on Goodreads
Buy The Chronicles of Faerie on Amazon
Buy The Chronicles of Faerie on Ebay
^^ Back to Books, Graphic Novels, and Other Works of Literature