This book brings together fairy tales from various sources, including stories that were originally part of longer novels. The book is hard for me to review, because I got stuck on one story I didn't like for so long that by now I've practically forgotten the earlier ones, but I'll muddle through. My only prior experience with George MacDonald was "Princess and the Goblin," which I have a vague memory of liking but no specific recollection of. These stories are thoroughly fairy tales – magic and fairies abound -- which I appreciated, but I wasn't bowled over by the content or the writing. I can believe that this was radically exciting stuff when it was first written, and I praise it for that. And some of the story bits are quite clever. I especially liked the first story, "The Light Princess," in which a witch's curse takes away the princess' gravity. It's light (no pun intended) and funny and also touching. The style and story flowed well, and there was plenty of movement to it. My favorite was the last story included here, although it also has the advantage of being best recalled: "The History of Photogen and Nycteris: A Day and Night Mährchen." Not only is the idea creative (a weird witch who raises a boy to know only sunlight and raises a girl to know only darkness) but I loved how he portrayed Nycteris' unique perspective on things, given her limited knowledge – it was beautiful, and touching. Between those two stories, though, were several that I didn't care for. Some were mostly enjoyable but had long swaths of extraneous boring bits. Some included poems or songs that added nothing to the story – and the longest ones were the worst about that – making me understand why some people refuse to even read such additions. "The Giant's Heart" had the same fun, lighthearted quality as the first story, until they murdered the giant; but that appealed to my love of German folk tales with the gruesome endings. I think I liked "The Golden Key," although it's too long to revisit at this point: it has a nice adventure quality to it, although I seem to remember it dragging, too. Okay, the more I look back over the book, the more I remember liking the earlier stories. "The Carasoyn," for instance, is a nice example of the trouble people get into when they mess with fairies, and how if a wise woman (witch) tells you to do something, you'd better do exactly what she says. Those are common themes in these stories, and they work well.
The one story I really didn't like, and which is coloring my perspective, is "The Wise Woman or the Lost Princess." This is the longest story, at about 80 pages, and about half of those pages could have been cut and still conveyed the same content. I'd say this story suffers the most from feeling dated; these ideas might have made perfect sense over a century ago, but taste sour to me now. The main theme is that little girls should behave themselves better – keeping their emotions and desires in check and being quiet and obedient and generous to others – and if they don't, it's their parents' fault for spoiling them. (There's no reason this couldn't have been about two little boys, but since it was girls and nothing was said about boys also having to behave themselves, it felt sexist.) A powerful wise woman / witch basically kidnaps two such girls and tries to cure them of their obstinacy by putting them through various humiliating trials. Granted, they are very poorly behaved and stubbornly refuse to obey her, but the lessons go on and on and on, long after the reader has figured out what the end result will be. Not surprisingly, the noble-blooded princess is the one who manages to succeed, whereas the peasant girl comes from poor stock and cannot be salvaged. To make it worse, woven throughout the story is the claim that you can tell how good and noble people are by their appearance. I had always thought that the Tolkien trope about good guys being handsome and bad guys being ugly was an unconscious bias, but here it is stated explicitly and repeatedly. Characters can supposedly tell that the princess isn't really princess-like because of the crude, rude look of her facial features. As she becomes better behaved, her face literally changes. Not her expression, mind you: the actual shape of her nose and other features. Wow.
Overall, this is an interesting excursion into the history of some of our favorite fairy tale ideas, with plenty of clever and creative bits of storytelling, and I'm happy to keep it on my shelf. But it's no Lord Dunsany.