I am tempted to say that the works of William Morris are my guilty pleasure, but that would require me to feel guilty about reading them. It would also require them to be books worthy of feeling guilty about liking. Neither of those things are true. There is something about the way William Morris writes and crafts a story that grabs a hold of me.

William Morris was one of the first people to write fantastical stories set in entirely invented worlds back in the late 19th century, and it thus considered one of the great fathers of the fantasy genre. His works are not grand in scope let fantasies of today and his worldbuilding is not deep and complicated like fantasies of today, but that does not stop Mr. Morris. Morris was attempting to hearken back to the tradition of medieval prose romances like the stories of King Arthur, and his works reflect this in their design and his prose. His stories always have a sense of uncertainty as to where it will go next, and that's because Morris was just winging it most of the time. He never set out and planned the world and what was in it or what it was called, but rather he crafted the world as his characters moved through it. This was, again, to capture that spirit of knights having adventures in far off dim lands of uncertain location and nature. Morris's prose reflect this in that it is deliberately archaic and medieval. It's not too much of a struggle to get through, but it is jarring sometimes. It accomplishes a purpose, though: the language helps to give the illusion that this is not a work written by some guy in the 1890s but rather a very old tale straight out of the middle ages.

His works are imbued with a constant sense of magic without being weighed down by pesky things like rules or explanations. Like tales from medieval times, Morris's stories often feature magical people who are somewhat removed from the rest of the characters, whose powers cannot be truly explained or accounted for. Magic in his stories is used sparingly but effectively.

This book is much shorter than the other one I've read, "The Well at the World's End", but it packs a good punch. It isn't hampered down by any of the pacing issues that plagued the latter half of that other story, but I also wouldn't call this one better. It's still a fantastic story filled with magic and excitement, but "The Well at the World's End" had a lot more of that stuff.

Another thing I love about the works of William Morris is that he seems to be way ahead of his time when it comes to the portrayal of women in his books. The love interest usually conforms to the mold of "fair young maiden with a propensity for blushing and love" that we find in most medieval knight tales, but they are also capable in their own right. The woman here, despite the fact that she never gets a name and is always referred to as "the maid" (then again, I don't believe anyone in this story has a name besides the main character), is a wise strong woman who actually ends up solving most of their problems. Both of the love interests in "The Well at the World's End" were also strong, capable women. Of course, their portrayal is far from perfect by today's standards, but in a time where most male authors couldn't portray women for the life of them, it's refreshing to find this quality in Morris.

In short, I love William Morris's works because they are amazing tales of love, adventure and magic that feel like they leapt straight out of the pages of King Arthur, except better.