To the extent that I, at the age of ten, had a soul, the question gnawed at it. Why us and no others? Why did Ember and Umber and all the rest of the Fillorians show us such special favor, when in our own world we were just ordinary people? I believe that I alone among us five was troubled by this. One thing we did not argue about was why, among all the children in the world, we had been given the gift of Fillory. The strongest section of the novel is Rupert Chatwin’s memoir about Narnia Fillory. Consequently, as a critique or commentary about the fantasy genre I’m not sure this book, or the trilogy as a whole, is saying anything that’s particularly profound or insightful. While I didn’t mind the first novel in the trilogy, The Magicians, the final book feels like its plowing similar territory.
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