The Last Unicorn: The Lost Version

The Last Unicorn: The Lost Version

The book opens with a familiar scene: “The unicorn lived in a lilac wood and she lived all alone…” This opening disarms the reader, because I think most are expecting a totally different story, and indeed, it is, but Peter S. Begale originated perfection when he wrote this famous opening.

However, about two paragraphs in, the scene totally changes. The Unicorn discovers a battle-weary Dragon in her forest. I won’t totally give away the dialogue, but suffice it to say that it is the Dragon, instead of the beloved Butterfly, that tells the Unicorn that she is the last. They have a very in-depth dialogue about what life is like outside of the forest, and the Dragon describes it as being very modern with policeman and such. Very entertaining, indeed.

The scene where the Unicorn has inner turmoil about leaving her forest is there, word-for-word, and makes the reader feel secure once again; however, one is surprised when the Unicorn is discovered by the old man in the field. He has a wife; a nagging one, at that! The dialogue changes a little, but the scene remains generally the same, with him trying to rope her and she slipping away from him “like rain.”

After the Unicorn runs away from the field man, she encounters a little boy, with whom she has minor dialogue but a deep connection, and then she runs into a familiar face: the Butterfly! Although the Butterfly’s fanatical dialogue changes a bit, the reader still finds him- or herself entranced by the Butterfly. (Who wouldn’t be?!)

After taking leave of the Butterfly, the Unicorn continues on her journey, feeling a premonition of… what, she doesn’t know. This is where the story changes drastically. The Unicorn happens upon a two-headed demon on the side of the road. One head is named Azazel and the other is named Webster. The demons have been evicted from Hell and are on the run with a precious coal that they have stolen, with which they’re determined to start their own Hell someplace else.

I can’t give too much of the story away, but suffice it to say that the demons are extremely likeable at times and extremely annoying at others. I think that was Peter’s intention, and he designed them well. One of my favorite quotes is when Webster is making fun of Azazel’s name: “Azazel. Hoo. Sounds like a sneeze in a bathtub.” Definitely a quote to giggle at =)

So, instead of the bumbling magician, Schmendrick, accompanying the Unicorn on her quest, Azazel and Webster join her instead. In fact, there is no Schmendrick, Molly Grue, King Haggard, Prince Lir or Red Bull. However, don’t let this turn you away from The Lost Version. It is priceless, indeed, even without the Unicorn’s familiar cohorts.

There is still the stunning prose that Peter never fails to mesmerize his fans with, and there is still clever dialogue, although after Azazel and Webster step into the picture, they kind of run the show. Still, I found that I learned a lot from the clumsy duo. In fact, they have a fascinating dialogue about what Hell is like and where it is. I found myself reading it over and over again, turning it over in my brain like a child does a chocolate bonbon in their mouth.

While the story is incomplete and unrefined, I still really enjoyed reading it and seeing the humble beginning from which our beloved Unicorn came. At the end of the book, there is an Afterword penned by Peter, where he shares a sentimental memory about Molly’s character. He says, “…I could never have created Molly Grue when I was twenty-three.” He goes on to explain that it was a few years of marriage and fatherhood that matured him “to a point of understanding an aging, bitterly disappointed woman made wise by her discovery of beauty.” It makes you further appreciate Molly’s character in The Last Unicorn.

Ultimately, The Lost Version is a gem; a diamond in the rough. Any fan of Peter’s will enjoy this novel. I was lucky enough to purchase it from a dear soul on Amazon who wanted to pass it on, and it is numbered 864 out of 1,000. Perhaps you may find yours soon, and when you do, I guarantee you will cherish every word.

On writing...

I have been writing ever since I learned how to hold a pencil properly.

I used to write during school when I was supposed to be doing my work and teachers had to repeatedly take my notebooks away until the close of class. Sometimes they would take my notebooks home and read my stories. The next morning, they'd hand my notebooks back with a knowing smile and a slight shake of the head as if to say, "I can't believe I liked what I read." While the stories I wrote were probably full of cliches and probably had not-so-very-memorable characters, plot or dialogue, my teachers saw something there, and so they encouraged me to write.

In my teenage years, full of angst and mis-placed emotions, I wrote a lot of poetry, mostly about whatever current boy was giving me heartache or about the daily traumas of being a confused, teenage girl in a divided household. My writing got better, and I found that I was able to express myself more clearly via that medium than anything else. I continued to find solace in the quiet moments of my writing, and it may have been one of the things that got me through the rough years I experienced.

Once I graduated high-school, though, and moved out of my childhood home and into a home with my first really serious boyfriend, I lost interest in writing anything but love letters. I became caught up in finding a "real" career and in spending time with my boyfriend and our families that my writing was almost entirely put on the back-burner. A year later, I had the opportunity, thanks to my dad and step-mom, to go to college for free, and so I took it. I declared my major in Communications and soon changed it to English.

I took various writing classes in college, from English Composition to Literature to Creative Writing. It was thanks to my Creative Writing professor, Prof. Denson, that I wrote and completed my very first novella - a Fantasy story about a child changeling. Once I finished that novella and received his critique and feedback, I was officially hooked. I knew then that writing was something I wanted to do forever.

Since then, I've had my ups and downs in pursuing my love of writing and my desire to become a published author, but I've pressed through the dull moments only to shine in the bright moments. I have a re-newed passion for writing and have learned that, as a writer, I can only put out what I put in, and so I am going forward with my whole heart.

After all, my stories write themselves.