A story that still has the power to enchant me today. A story about both fantasy and strength, both grounded in ugly realism and sustained by flights of fancy. I remember being able to hear the rustle of little girls' skirts, feel Sara's hunger at the sight of her feast, see the shine of the candles out her attic window, join in her humiliation at her new lot in life. Yes, it does indulge in father hero-worship, but I refuse to let a little Freudian fact like that get in the way of how much I love this book.