Six FantasiesTheme and Style William H. Green (bio) The Master Key, by L. Frank Baum. Illustrated by F. Y. Cory. Introduction by David L. Greene and Douglas G. Greene. Hyperion, Conn.: Hyperion Press, Inc., 1973. $3.75. Reprint of the 1901 Bowen-Merrill Company edition. Sailing to Cythera, by Nancy Willard. Illustrated by David McPhail. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1974. $5.95. Sweetwater, by Laurence Yep. Illustrated by Julia Noonan. New York: Avon Books, 1975. $1.25. Previously issued, New York: Harper & Row, 1973. Mr. Death, by Anne Moody. Foreword by John Donovan. New York: Harper & Row, 1975. $5.95. Into the Unknown. Edited by Terry Carr. Nashville, Tenn.: Thomas Nelson, Inc., 1900. $6.50. Ladies of the Gothics. Edited by Seon Manley and Gogo Lewis. New York: Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company, 1975. $6.95. Critics of children's books are expected to be moralists. Probably this is inevitable. There are books which, regardless of one's politics, are evidently harmful to young readers—books which countenance cruelty, cowardice, or despair. But if morality becomes the chief concern of criticism, literature is degraded to propaganda, critics to would-be censors. Whatever harm immoral books may do to readers, poorly written books do greater harm to the practice of literature—especially if they are applauded for the mere moral correctness of their themes. The best children's books are unsurpassed in their precision of style and richness of imagination; and the best children's fantasies, in particular, evoke a miraculous sense of completeness, of word-magic raised to sacramental perfection. Magic is our birthright. If we disinherit ourselves for moral correctness or transitory social causes, we lose. Happily, of the six fantasy books reviewed here, two exhibit the lucid style, smooth pacing, and imaginative completeness characteristic of classic fantasies such as the Alice books, The Hobbit, and the tales of Narnia and Oz. Not surprisingly, one is by the creator of Oz himself. The Master Key, subtitled "An Electrical Fairy Tale," is a reprint of L. Frank Baum's 1901 novel about a boy named Rob who accidentally invokes the Demon of Electricity and is given electrical marvels to show the world: a ray which induces unconsciousness, [End Page 288] small tablets which contain one day's nourishment, and an anti-gravity device shaped like a wristwatch. With these devices, Rob flies foolishly to a cannibal island, barely returning in time to receive three more marvels. Turn-of-the-century American ambiance pervades the tale. Full of optimism and industry, Rob soars across the Atlantic wearing only walking clothes and a small anti-gravity device, later to return and conclude that there is no place like home. While abroad, Rob displays an American willingness to intervene in local politics. Of course, he always intervenes on the good side, but his notions of good and evil are frankly ethnocentric: "I believe it's about time I interfered with the politics of this Republic," he tells himself in Paris. "If I don't take a hand there probably won't be a Republic of France very long and, as a good American, I prefer a republic to a monarchy" (p. 136). Such lambent faith in Truth, Justice, and the American Way may seem passé, and Baum's stock characterizations of cannibals and Turks might draw charges of racism if he wrote today; but it would be ungracious to blame the author of such a lively and good-natured fable for occasionally reflecting the values of his age. And the ending of the story, where Rob returns the Demon's gifts because he has seen how unready men are to control such powers, transcends optimism and addresses a warning to our gadget-ridden nuclear age. Solid meals, it proposes, are more satisfying than energy pills—happy homes more important than transoceanic tours. Finally, however, it is not the moral which makes the tale successful, but rather the vividly evoked wonder, the eerie realism of Rob's soaring—almost the reader's soaring—asleep through night skies, with only the stars above and the sea beneath him. A reprint of the 1901 edition, with large print and strong illustrations, the book is at...