For what must be thirty years now, my absolute favorite book — the one I would never surrender from my library for any reason — has been Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn. I was a unicorn-enamored girl when I first read it (I used to think I was half-unicorn), which explains my early enthusiasm for it, but as I grew older and more sophisticated I only grew to appreciate the beauty of the novel in its entirety. Or maybe it was the beauty of the book that kindled my ardor for unicorns, without my realizing why. It’s become for me a kind of comfort food, the place I go when I find myself in need of emotional restoration. Not often. I’ve probably only read it twice in the past ten years. But it’s always there, in my heart, a feeling of wholeness that I can pull out and remember when I have need.

Just this week, I was filling out an introductory form for an online community, and I had to state who my two favorite book characters were. I had to think about that for a long moment, because there are just so many. How do you choose? But then, looking at the list of books I had just put down a few minutes before (also a difficult choice!), I knew the answer. Not the Unicorn, Amalthea. She is beauty and love, but not much else. No, not her, but Schmendrick. Which kind of surprised me. As a young reader, I let myself be beguiled by his ridiculous name into thinking that the character was ridiculous as well, a childish impression reinforced by the animated version of the story (an excellent adaptation, in my opinion) where a big nose and nasaly voice contribute to image of Schmendrick as a lucky fool, and little else. It’s taken me this long, thirty years of reading, to really appreciate the character and what he represents in the book. How aptly he portrays the human condition, the pure potential we each possess, trapped within a shell of mediocrity that can only be conquered by acceptance. If I had thought about the book in my twenties, I probably would have picked Lir as my favorite character, and perhaps in my fifties I will prefer (and have a greater understanding) of Molly Grue. By the time I’m 80 I may prefer the cat, or the skull. Who can say? Right now, though, it is Schmendrick who speaks to me.

A couple weeks ago, a sequel to The Last Unicorn won the 2006 Hugo award for best novellette, and I’ve just discovered that
you can read the story, Two Hearts, online at the Fantasy & Science Fiction website. It is a bittersweet read. The story itself, I mean, is bittersweet, as you might expect, but so is the fact that it simply leaves you craving more. It’s too short, by far, and while I really enjoyed the narrator of the story as a character (a young girl trying to save her village from a griffin), I feel a little cheated by the use of the first person. I always do, anymore; too often I think it is the author’s lazy way out of having to think beyond a single point of view. And while the girl’s story was good, I feel that she stands in the way of really engaging with the characters I know and love from the original; there’s too much she doesn’t understand or doesn’t hear. Ultimately, while it is a good story, I don’t understand the point of it in relation to the novel. Is it meant to be an epilogue? Is it meant to stand on its own? I don’t think it does either really well. If The Last Unicorn is comfort food, then Two Hearts is like sorbet for dessert when you really want ice cream — it tastes good on the tongue but you’re not really satisfied when you’re finished.

Okay, I apologize for the horrible simile, but I am curious as to what other people think of the story.