The Last Unicorn

The Last Unicorn (1968) by Peter S. Beagle

Although I’ve read other books by Peter S. Beagle, I had not yet read The Last Unicorn. It’s mentioned as a classic, and I kept getting stunned disbelief that I had never read it, so I finally picked up a copy.

Perhaps it was a case over a book being overhyped, and of raising my expectations too high to be met.

Because although the book was good, I didn’t think it was great, and I don’t think I would qualify it as a classic.

In fact, I prefer The Innkeeper’s Song (1993) and Giant Bones (1997) to The Last Unicorn. Part of it was the writing: I could see the writing style that I liked in the later books, but for me, it wasn’t quite there yet.

The story was very good–the last unicorn’s search for her lost kindred, as she’s joined by some of the few others who can see her for what she truly is. And I really liked the Magician Schmendrick. But then I love charlatans and scoundrels. (Which is amusing beacause I’m quite sure that I wouldn’t like them at all in real life.)

This doesn’t make this a bad book by any stretch–because it isn’t a bad book. I just wouldn’t personally qualify it as a classic, and given my druthers, I’d rather read Giant Bones.
Rating: 6/10

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