The Elfstones of Shannara Book

I don't think you can possibly understand what a formative impact this book had on me.

Picture it: I was nine years old. We were at this massive used book sale, and I was bored silly of all the books at the children's table. I wandered around a bit, and ended up in adult SF/F. And there, like a shining beacon of fascinating glory, was a gorgeous hardcover copy of The Elfstones of Shannara.

Of course I bought it, even though my parents thought I wouldn't understand it. And they were right. I didn't understand it. I didn't pick up on half of the subtext, the subtleties.

But I loved it. I loved the sweeping adventure and the epic feel and the heroic yet human characters. I loved the magic and the loss and the battles and the struggles. I loved every single page of it.

And that's how I became a fantasy addict.

I know this book isn't perfect. I've heard people say it's derivative, and it probably is. But for me, this book, this series (because of course, as soon as I discovered that there were more, I read all of them--Sword of Shannara, Wishsong of Shannara, and my favorite, the Heritage of Shannara quartet--which, by the way, was how I discovered that there was a whole SECTION of fantasy books in the bookstore--so much more to read, so many more adventures to explore!) captivated my imagination and lured me into fantasy.

In my mind, this book is perfect. And for me, yes, it does stand the test of time. Every time I reread it--every few years--I find that while I am rereading the story, I am also reliving that magical experience as a nine-year-old of discovering magic and adventure and wonder. I now own a paperback edition for easy carrying around, but I still have that beautiful old hardcover, with its maps and line-drawings and solid presence in my lap.

For me, this book will always be perfect.