Bellairs' novels follow a clear pattern. They begin in whimsical wit--in the case of the book we are now considering, in an explosion of warm, humorous, whimsical wit--and they sustain that whimsey throughout; each is a tale that would be worthwhile reading just as whimsical humor. In this phase of the tale, we meet the characters, and see their human side: their quite human foibles and follies are treated with that same light, deft touch. We can be forgiven for thinking that the whole tale will be such warm, light whimsey. Let us see a little of the protagonist, Prospero the wizard (no, not that Prospero).
Characterization is important to the successful tale, second only, I suppose, to language use. Bellairs here, and in his juveniles as well, balances character wondrous well: his characters are neither genial bumblers favored by fortune nor flawless ramrods of virtue. They are (as with, I guess, most successful character creations) real and full human beings with, as I put it earlier, foibles and follies, but also with dignity and strengths. They can take an occasional pratfall without losing that dignity, and they can defeat deep evils without needing to first, or in consequence, achieve apotheoses. They are people we can and do like, and, more than like, respect.
The Face in the Frost is one of those precious books that readers familiar with recommend to good friends of known sensibilities with the air of a connoisseur uncorking a comet vintage. Its delicacy and fine balances make its whole greater even than the sum of its parts, though those parts themselves are each sufficiently delightful. It is one of my own very favorite works, and I recommend it highly, along with his two earlier adult books, each a little gem.
Eric Walker
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