The narratives themselves make the most of the magic-adventure novel’s hoary tropes, the kinds of things kids who have read Ivanhoe and Kidnapped (or seen synopses on TV) will want to see and do. Simply put, some friends we love and some exasperate, and much depends on self-expression. Sometimes there’s an outright nerd, like poor Gordy of books five and six, whose “Whaddaya say?” definitely annoys. There’s always a brave and bossy older girl and a stubborn, impetuous younger one a boy who “has ideas” and a nice girl to whom one can turn for comfort when dazzled by the abundance of cleverness elsewhere. These are kids we want to hang out with, and they break down into easily recognizable types. Whatever the fancy embrace of plot and phrase, Eager’s Everychild characters do follow the cardinal rule of young literature: make friends with the reader. They are as sophisticated in their allusions as Lewis Carroll’s Alice books and - I dare to say it - they rival Vladimir Nabokov’s wordplay and the metaphors made real in Gabriel García Márquez’s Macondo. Leaning in this direction, the Tales of Magic carry heady whiffs of postmodernism and magic realism. But in order to enjoy that tingling, you have to know just how much magic you have and what the rules are for using it.” This is the challenge of speaking and working within any symbolic system, spelled out for readers aged eight to twelve.

His magic is wild and thrilling - and sometimes off-putting, as the narrative voice of Half Magic explains in a manifesto for the series: “When you have magic powers and know it, it can be a fine feeling, like a pleasant tingling inside. Out of puns, misunderstandings, and deep allusions, Eager twisted a total of seven witty, rompy, madcap-mishappy books called collectively the Tales of Magic. Carrie’s talk is both disturbing and delightful, the hallmark of a writer dancing through the eternal battle between moral lessons of discipline (perhaps the children’s literature scorned by weary souls) vs. A half-articulate cat would speak like Caliban, cursing her enchanter. It turns out that the talisman grants only half a wish at a time - a lesson hard learned as the four children in the book watch half a house fire and see a neighbor’s iron Scottie dog come half alive.

No one could be more surprised when Carrie the cat stops meowing and starts making half-recognizable sounds, but somehow the result makes perfect sense: This is how a cat would speak, or almost speak, if her enchantress managed to get a job only half done.

One of his lonely little-girl characters, a girl who doesn’t realize she has a magic token, let alone how it works, has wished aloud that her cat might speak and keep her company. In situ, that string of nonsense syllables stems from a rookie mistake - but not Eager’s.

Edward eager tales of magic