I've long considered Peter S. Beagle one of my favorite authors, based on my unreserved delight with "The Innkeeper's Song", "We Never Talk About My Brother", and "Tamsin". Yet despite my years of loving his work, I've somehow never actually read his most famous work until now.

I wish I hadn't waited, because this was GREAT.

This was easily the prettiest book I've read in a long time, and I spent a lot longer selecting that adjective than I'd planned to, because I don't want to suggest that The Last Unicorn was somehow light or fluffy...except it was also those things. Beagle's work often feels dreamlike and ephemeral at first, but gains weight and reality the longer I'm away from it. I finished The Last Unicorn two days ago, and my appreciation for it keeps growing. This was really, really good.