The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There

Catherynne M. Valente’s "The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There" picks up with September, a girl who’s no stranger to the strange and magical. A year after her first trip to Fairyland, she’s back to find the whimsical world in trouble: its inhabitants are losing their shadows—and with them, their magic. The culprit? Fairyland-Below, a shadowy underworld ruled by Halloween, the Hollow Queen, who turns out to be none other than September’s own shadow. Yes, it’s as delightfully weird and unsettling as it sounds.

This isn’t a straightforward rescue mission. September’s quest to recover the stolen shadows drags her into a labyrinth of self-discovery and confrontation with the darker parts of herself. Alongside her are Ell, a Wyverary (part wyvern, part library—a creature that’s as bizarre as it is charming), and Saturday, a boy whose presence adds new layers to the story without turning it into a predictable friendship trope.

Valente’s writing is lush and vivid but never so flowery that it loses you. She balances whimsy with a sharp edge, creating a fairy tale that’s both enchanting and a little bit unsettling. The prose is packed with literary nods and playful language that invites you to slow down and savor the ride rather than rush through to the end. The illustrations by Ana Juan deepen the immersive feel, giving the underworld and Fairyland-Below a haunting, almost tangible atmosphere.

What makes this sequel stand out is how it handles identity and consequence. September isn’t just fighting external villains; she’s grappling with her own shadow—literally and figuratively. The Hollow Queen embodies the parts of September that are mysterious, frightening, or misunderstood. It’s a clever way to explore the messy business of growing up, where you’re not always sure which parts of yourself you can trust.

The stakes are high but personal. The loss of shadows isn’t just a magical crisis; it’s a metaphor for losing parts of oneself, the intangible bits that make life rich and complicated. The story doesn’t shy away from sacrifice and the fallout of choices made in the previous book. It respects the idea that actions have consequences, sometimes unexpected and uncomfortable.

Friendship and loyalty thread through the narrative without ever feeling forced. Ell and Saturday aren’t just sidekicks; they’re companions who bring their own quirks and strengths, making the journey feel like a real adventure rather than a solo hero’s parade. Their interactions add warmth and humor, balancing the darker themes.

If you’re expecting a neat, tidy fairy tale, this isn’t it. It’s more like a fairy tale that drank some strong coffee and started asking hard questions about who we are when no one’s looking. It’s imaginative, yes, but also a bit messy, a bit raw, and definitely not afraid to get its hands dirty with the complicated stuff beneath the surface.

That said, the novel’s density and literary style might trip up readers looking for quick escapism. It demands attention and rewards patience. But for those willing to dive in, it offers a rich, layered experience that lingers long after the last page.

In short, this book is a tangled, beautiful mess of magic, shadows, and the tricky business of understanding yourself. It’s a sequel that respects its predecessor but isn’t afraid to get darker and deeper. If you like your fairy tales with a side of psychological exploration and a dash of weirdness, this one’s worth your time.