This story is fantasy as fairy tale. The main character, September, a twelve-year old girl, is transported to Fairyland, simple as that, no bones about it. There are echoes of other stories. Beautiful echoes. Technology, for example, is employed at one point by September's nemesis, the Marquess, and it reminded me of goings-on in Oz (Well, er, no, I only know Oz from movies.). Some fantasy/fairy tale genre standards, classic elements, maintain their solemn dignity and give this story heft. For example, fairies and their tricks and lies, villages made out of unusual materials and other nonsensical realities, inhabitants living in fear of a despicable ruler, inhabitants with dubious intentions, witch hats, aspects of September's character... 
 Coraline in Coraline by Neil Gaiman. Deeba in Un Lun Dun by China Mieville. And in The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, a girl named September - I love those guys, gals, but am actually beginning to wonder if someone needs to write a good fantasy for children (and adults) with a guy, a guy guy, in the lead. Is it ludicrous of me to worry that boys may be short on role models in contemporary fantasy? 
 Regardless, September is wonderful, despite the interesting way she is repeatedly described as being heartless. She's read stories and has some expectations about an adventure in Fairyland, so she takes on a quest when she arrives, the first one on offer. Unfortunately, fairy tales are also horror stories. They depict the world that children feel or sense or fear may exist on the borders. Their sometimes frightened uncertainty about what is out there, what adulthood contains, comes alive. The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making captures that well. The violence is infrequent and often deceptively mild-seeming; it is done very well. Secure adults will be brought to their knees. Your hair will stand on end. Your stomach will flip. 
 But September will soldier on, sometimes with tears in her eyes. I was not completely swept away, despite the wonderful writing and the imaginative everything. I am painfully aware the defect may be within disaffected adult me, not that this narrative shuns adulthood and growing up. I don't often wish I was more childlike (oh, hush, you), but I did while reading this.