Charles de Lint’s Spiritwalk

91fzroO5fuLSpiritwalk is a loose sequel to Moonheart, a series of related tales, again centering around Tamson House and including many of the same characters. In fact, the House is even more important as a Place in this group of stories. It begins with a brief discussion of Tamson House from a book by Christy Riddell, whom we will meet again in The Onion Girl and Widdershins, followed by a delightful vignette, “Merlin Dreams in the Mondream Wood,” of Sarah Kendell, age seventeen, remembering her childhood “imaginary” playmate, a red-haired boy named Merlin who lived in the oak tree at the center of the garden. It’s a sweet, sad tale of the price of love.

The bulk of the book is three closely related novellas, “Ascian in Rose,” “Westlin Wind,” and “Ghostwood.” All involve Blue, the biker with a sensitive soul who is now caretaker and in all important respects sole permanent resident of Tamson House (Sarah spends much of her time in the Otherworlds with Taliesin); Emma Fenn, who has the gift of understanding the language of trees and at the beginning of the story has been split in two by the machinations of a not-very-nice woodwife named Glamorgana, who has ambitions; Esmerelda Foylan, another seeker on the Way; and, in the last story, Albert Watkins, the Neighbor from Hell.

The first two in this group are classic de Lint, tales of magic, love, and redemption. They do, in fact, contain some of his best characterizations and most compelling storytelling. Both are tales of rescue, the first with Blue as a knight on shining Harley, the second with Esmerelda treading forbidden paths out of friendship. Emma Fenn, in particular, as an unwilling bearer of a magical gift, is a fascinating study of the interplay of rebellion and resignation leading to a hard but ultimately correct decision as to who she will be. She’s an excellent example of de Lint’s many variations on the Socratic dictum, “know thyself.”

I have never liked “Ghostwood.” It is not one of de Lint’s best stories. Albert Watkins, although he appears little in the story, is the kind of character — a walking, talking, but nevertheless abstract evil — for whom I have no interest and who drags the story down to a level that is out of keeping with the rest of the book. In this case, “Ghostwood” devolves into something akin to gothic horror dressed up as urban fantasy. It’s really a replay of Moonheart, but without the magic and without the love, both of which are essential ingredients in any de Lint story worthy of the name.

This is not to say that Spiritwalk is a bad book overall, it’s just not what it could have been with a stronger finish.

In a note at the beginning of Spiritwalk, de Lint says that familiarity with Moonheart is recommended but hopefully not necessary. It’s probably not absolutely necessary, but a certain measure of coherence is lost without knowing Moonheart. (I might also note that the two novels, Jack the Giant Killer and Drink Down the Moon, later published as Jack of Kinrowan are brought into this group by a reference in “Ascian in Rose,” creating what is, in actuality, a loose quartet. In addition, Tamson House gets mentioned briefly in Jack the Giant Killer.The events in the Jack of Kinrowan novels take place somewhere between Moonheart and Spiritwalk.)

For those familiar with de Lint’s career, it’s interesting to see the seeds of what became Newford, with its seamless melding of Native and European mythic traditions brought into the contemporary world. Spiritwalk and Moonheart make a good de Lint marathon, with Jack of Kinrowan as a light-hearted and sometimes hysterically funny interlude.

You can find the Triskell Press digital edition here.

(Tor, 1992)


Robert M. Tilendis lives a deceptively quiet life. He has made money as a dishwasher, errand boy, legal librarian, arts administrator, shipping expert, free-lance writer and editor, and probably a few other things he’s tried very hard to forget about. He has also been a student of history, art, theater, psychology, ceramics, and dance. Through it all, he has been an artist and poet, just to provide a little stability in his life. Along about January of every year, he wonders why he still lives someplace as mundane as Chicago; it must be that he likes it there. You may e-mail him, but include a reference to Green Man Review so you don’t get deleted with the spam.

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