Warning: Contains Spoilers!
Meg stretched out her arms and caught it in her eager hands. ‘The love is not dead yet,’ she said softly. ‘Not yet.’
Aufwader’s Thoughts: There’s a kind of poetry to the way Meg has kept the memory of Prince Alisander, her brother, alive. It should be repellent that she made a harp from his bones, but, like the Tower Lubber’s peg eyes, it inspires pity and sadness for things long lost, rather than dread. A bit like the werlings’ Silent Grove, it’s an unconventional yet understandable-in-context way to treat a dead body. Meg might’ve left Alisander to rot, but instead she chose to preserve a part of him in a way that made sense to her, and we can’t fault her for that.
Matt’s Thoughts: Clearly the years have taken a bigger toll on Meg than they have for the Tower Lubber. He can still remember clearly everything that happened, whereas Meg seems to go through the daily ritual of the ‘bright circle’ without realising its true meaning.
Was it in the new edition of The Whitby Witches that Robin was quoted as saying that one of the saddest things for him was the idea of losing your identity? (I gave my copy away to a friend, so I actually can’t remember!) Even if I did just imagine that quote, it’s a common-enough theme in his stories. The Webster sisters drifting in and out of senility, Madame Akkikuyu having lost her mind, and now Meg in this trilogy.
Maybe it’s because it’s a rainy morning as I type this, but it does make me muse about the fragility of the human mind. Sometimes we are able to muster up incredible courage to stare our troubles in the face. Other times, it’s all too much for us and we become something other than what we started out. It resonates because it’s true.