In so much of McKillip's work, as in so many of the stories collected in Wonders of the Invisible World, there is, again and again, this seeking out of a world beyond the world we see, a world at once more primal and impossible, a world of wizards and elf fire, of mermaids and monsters.
She reads—not the book around her neck, which is small, only as long and as wide as her thumb, black cord threaded through a sewn leather spine, knotted shut.
