Unlike the first two books, which came across as a great mix of wild, mystical, and wise, The Boy Who Lost Fairyland reads like a list of adjectives and adverbs selected specifically for their syrupy weirdness, because the narrative no longer has substance to back up Valente's highly stylized prose. I'm sad to say it was a chore to get through. It was entirely forgettable, and featured even less of the characters that drew us to the Fairyland series in the first place - September, Saturday and A-through-L - than the the third book. Valente's writing has definitely crossed over from "charming and childlike" to "overly precious".