George MacDonald

The Princess and Curdie are back in this sequel to The Princess and the Goblin. Princess Irene and Curdie are a year or two older, and must overthrow a set of corrupt ministers who are poisoning Irene's father, the king. Irene's grandmother is also back and she gives Curdie a strange gift and a monster called Lina to help him on his quest. A wonderful tale of adventure and courage.

Revolutionary for the time in encouraging children to think like children, the adventure of Princess Irene and Curdie, the boy miner, was to influence generations of writers, including Chesterton and Tolkien. Overflowing with fantastic ideas and images to delight the young and allegory to inspire their morality The Princess and the Goblin has remained one of the most exciting tales for over 100 years. Irene lives in a castle on a mountain under which there is a labyrinth of tunnels inhabited by Goblins. Also, within the hillsides, is a group of miners digging for precious metals. When the Goblins try to kidnap the Princess and flood the mines it is up to Curdie, the boy miner, and Irene's great-great-great grandmother to use their wit and resource to defeat the wicked plan. 'I for one can really testify to a book that has made a difference to my whole existence, which helped me to see things in a certain way from the start; ... of all the stories I have read, it remains the most real, the most realistic, in the exact sense of the phrase the most like life. It is called The Princess and the Goblin, and is by George MacDonald...' —G. K. Chesterton

"Come oot o' the gutter, ye nickum!" cried, in harsh, half-masculine voice, a woman standing on the curbstone of a short, narrow, dirty lane, at right angles to an important thoroughfare, itself none of the widest or cleanest. She was dressed in dark petticoat and print wrapper. One of her shoes was down at the heel, and discovered a great hole in her stocking. Had her black hair been brushed and displayed, it would have revealed a thready glitter of grey, but all that was now visible of it was only two or three untidy tresses that dropped from under a cap of black net and green ribbons, which looked as if she had slept in it.

Robert Falconer, school-boy, aged fourteen, thought he had never seen his father; that is, thought he had no recollection of having ever seen him. But the moment when my story begins, he had begun to doubt whether his belief in the matter was correct. And, as he went on thinking, he became more and more assured that he had seen his father somewhere about six years before, as near as a thoughtful boy of his age could judge of the lapse of a period that would form half of that portion of his existence which was bound into one by the reticulations of memory. For there dawned upon his mind the vision of one Sunday afternoon. Betty had gone to church, and he was alone with his grandmother, reading The Pilgrim's Progress to her, when, just as Christian knocked at the wicket-gate, a tap came to the street door, and he went to open it. There he saw a tall, somewhat haggard-looking man, in a shabby black coat (the vision gradually dawned upon him till it reached the minuteness of all these particulars), his hat pulled down on to his projecting eyebrows, and his shoes very dusty, as with a long journey on foot—it was a hot Sunday, he remembered that—who looked at him very strangely, and without a word pushed him aside, and went straight into his grandmother's parlour, shutting the door behind him. He followed, not doubting that the man must have a right to go there, but questioning very much his right to shut him out. When he reached the door, however, he found it bolted; and outside he had to stay all alone, in the desolate remainder of the house, till Betty came home from church...

It was a lovely morning in the first of summer. Donal Grant was descending a path on a hillside to the valley below - a sheep-track of which he knew every winding as well as any boy his half-mile to and from school. But he had never before gone down the hill with the feeling that he was not about to go up again. He was on his way to pastures very new, and in the distance only negatively inviting.

George MacDonald was a Scottish author and Christian minister. MacDonald was an early writer of the fantasy novel and his works influenced authors such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. This edition of David Elginbrod includes a table of contents.

At the Back of the North Wind is a brilliant allegorical tale by George MacDonald. The protagonist Diamond befriends the beautiful and majestic North Wind. Her powers bring change where ever she goes. At first this awesome power seems to be a terrible force, but it becomes clear that all of the changes she has caused with her amazing power have been for good. A timeless classic.

“Oh, that! That’s only Number 3. A mere closet, gentlemen,” responded the landlord in a pleasant voice. “To be sure, we sometimes use it as a sleeping-room when we are hard pushed. Jake, the clerk you saw below, used it last night. But it’s not on our regular list. Do you want a peep at it?”

Sir Edward Mauley is "The Black Dwarf," a character based on a very real man of Scott's acquaintance. Mauley becomes involved in the quarrel of a friend -- and, when imprisoned for his actions in that quarrel, finds himself betrayed by the very man in whose cause he lost his liberty. When free, he goes to Mucklestane Moor, where his extraordinary strength, knowledge of medicine, and ready wealth lead the local people to regard him as a supernatural being -- a servant of the Devil. . . .

Manalive describes a group of young disillusioned people meeting a certain Mr. Innocent Smith, a bubbly, high-spirited gentleman who literally falls into their midst. Accused of murder and denounced as a bigamist and living in various houses (all of which turn out to be his own), Smith prompts his newfound acquaintances to recognise an important idea: that life is worth living.

A radical reinvention of Victorian invasion fiction, and a blueprint for the alien invasion stories that have captured the minds of science fiction readers and writers for over a century. The unnamed narrator recounts the circumstances of a Martian invasion of earth, and their subsequent behaviour once England has been laid to ruin and brought under their control, all while trying desperately to reunite with his wife. The War of the Worlds has been adapted for other media numerous times, the most famous of which is the 1938 Orson Welles radio broadcast. Keeping with the factual presentation of the novel, the broadcast was initially framed as a news bulletin, leading numerous listeners to believe the events recounted were actually happening. More recently, Steven Spielberg adapted the novel to film, with Tom Cruise in the leading role. Penguin Random House Canada is proud to bring you classic works of literature in e-book form, with the highest quality production values. Find more today and rediscover books you never knew you loved.

Andrew Lang's Fairy Books or Andrew Lang's "Coloured" Fairy Books constitute a twelve-book series of fairy tale collections. Although Andrew Lang did not collect the stories himself from the oral tradition, the extent of his sources, who had collected them originally (with the notable exception of Madame d'Aulnoy), made them an immensely influential collection, especially as he used foreign-language sources, giving many of these tales their first appearance in English. As acknowledged in the prefaces, although Lang himself made most of the selections, his wife and other translators did a large portion of the translating and telling of the actual stories.The Blue Fairy Book assembled a wide range of tales, with seven from the Brothers Grimm, five from Madame d'Aulnoy, three from the Arabian Nights, and four Norse stories, among other sources.

The beloved Victorian children's tale now available in its original unabridged edition Instantly popular upon its initial publication in 1863, The Water Babies is at once a bewitching childhood fantasy and a skillfully woven moral allegory. Tom, a young chimney sweep, escapes his horrendous job and his cruel boss, Grimes, when fairies plunge him into a fantastical world under the sea. As he meets and befriends his fellow water babies, as well as all sorts of sea creatures, he begins to learn some valuable lessons. Much in demand by scholars, this authoritative new edition featuring the Victorian illustrations from early editions will charm children and adults alike. For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.

His mother looked up from the table where she was cutting out pie crust, and asked in surprise, “What do you mean, Grant? Why is to-day any different from ordinary days?”

Constance Garnett’s translation, the basic version in English of this Russian masterpiece, has been revised by the editor for accuracy and readability. Dostoevsky’s sources for the characters and situations of the novel are set forth in an extract from Lev Reynus’s Dostoevsky and Staraya Russa and in selections from Dostoevsky’s letters and diary, all translated by Professor Matlaw. Konstantin Mochulsky’s essay provides a general discussion of the work. Important questions as to the craft of the novel, its characterization, Dostoevsky’s symbolism, the Grand Inquisitor, and the theme of religious salvation are surveyed in critical pieces by Dmitry Tschizewskij, Robert L. Belknap, Edward Wasiolek, Harry Slochower, D. H. Lawrence, Albert Camus, Nathan Rosen, Leonid Grossman, Ya. E. Golosovker, R. P. Blackmur, and Ralph E. Matlaw. Several of these selections are also recently translated from the Russian. A Selected Bibliography is included.

Through the whole of the night, chopping, shifting winds had been tearing through the streets of London, now from the north, now from the south, now from the east, now from the west, now from all points of the compass at once; which last caprice--taking place for at least the twentieth time in the course of the hour which the bells of Big Ben were striking--was enough in itself to make the policeman on the beat doubtful of his senses.

THERE was a smell of burning spruce in the sharp air, and Corporal Bracknell, of the North-west Mounted Police, threw back his head and sniffed it gratefully. His team of dogs had been conscious of it for some time, and now, quickening the pace, they broke into joyous yelps as they turned inward towards the Saskatoon bushes on the left bank of the frozen river. The corporal smiled to himself.