The Dedalus book of British fantasy: the 19th century Book

I love this book. I've loved since I first read it 15 years ago. I love it for the way it tickled my imagination with the wonderful idea of entire civilisations living in the carpet. I love it for the standard fantasy adventure story that it is at its core but told in such a way and such a world that even I didn't yawn at the constant walking from one place to another of it all. I love that after all this time I still get excited by reading it and I love this shiny new illustrated edition complete with the authors own art from his teenage years. I love the introduction from the master storyteller slightly embarrassed by his early efforts yet not too big to realise the mistakes he made and fix some of them. And it is this that is most amazing to me at 29 as yet unpublished, that even the greats such as Terry Pratchett weren't masters instantly but kept on working at their craft even after being published.

Reading again after the journey through the Tiffany Aching stories and even his finest novel Nation, which just so happened to be primarily a young adult novel, it is clear that he always had an extraordinary ability to write adult stories that were accessible to children, that taught them without treating them as if they were stupid or making it an obvious lesson (something that I've only ever noticed in a Lemony Snicket book outside of Mr Pratchetts work, but sure I don't make a habit of reading kids books, even as a kid) and his ability to create easily identifiable, conventional characters and play with the readers expectations and the genre character rules.

Snibril is the protagonist who undertakes a journey with his companions, losing everything but gaining something so much more valuable; realising along the way such universal truths as the importance of education and friendship and the value of property. And I'm happy to keep taking the journey with him, time and time again.