Lev Grossman does a good job of creating a fantasy world that incorporates ideas from other fantastical worlds -- Narnia, Hogwarts, Middle-Earth and even brief nod to a galaxy far, far away -- and adding some of his own special spices to create a unique mix.

Sketches of the plot can be found elsewhere. What I found intriguing about the book was not its similarities and differences with other fantasy stories, but its ability to mix pleasure and sadness, hope and despair. Some have called the book nihilistic: It is decidedly not so. Yes, it clearly presents nihilistic themes, and of course the climactic death of the godly Rams of Fillory and their would-be usurper Martin Chatwin is a Nietzschean proposition if ever there was one. But the story is not merely some postmodern commentary on how everything goes to shit.

Quentin certainly explores the dark side of his character every step of the way. From page one, his "nice guy" relationship with Julia and his inability to spark the type of romance she has with his best friend James presents an early warning of things to come. If he could just screw up the courage to tell her how he feels, then they would be together and everything would be hunky dory. Of course, he can't do this, because he lacks the courage, the testicular fortitude, to accept the consequences of his action. He admits--secretly to himself--that the best he could hope for is that his best friend dies and that he gets to console Julia.

This theme, Quentin's constant feelings of uselessness and inability to find happiness, is hammered again and again. He learns that magic is real, but of course mastering it takes work. He discovers that love is real, but of course maintaining it takes work. He discovers that the fictional land of Fillory is real, but of course finding a quest and successfully completing it takes work. Each step of the way he is bombarded with the reality that happiness doesn't come to you as you dream and wish for it. Nothing is perfect; nothing happens exactly the way we want it.

If that was all there was to the story, then of course it would be nihilistic. It would be the postmodern reductionist tale of world-weary woe that others seem to claim. Fortunately, that's not all there is to the story.

Because ultimately, Quentin never gives up hope that he can find happiness. With each experience, each new unfolding of enlightenment, he summons the ubiquitous belief that just around the corner, if he can only reach just a little further, he will discover that ultimate joy he longs for. Even when he has lost almost everything, when he has found himself abandoned to the care of condescending Centaurs, his beloved dead, he somehow summons the courage to travel the length of Fillory's world to find the white stag that can grant him three wishes.

Does he find ultimate happiness even then? Of course not. He learns, yet again, that no such thing exists. He cannot restore Alice, or even Penny: That sort of deep magic is impossible. But he does find something, the thing that Alice had tried to explain to him in his constant stumbling toward his own personal Eldorado. That happiness is not external; it cannot be found, it must be allowed.

His self-imposed exile from the world of magic is obviously an escape, but it is also more than that -- it is a recuperation. His physical body was restored in Fillory, but it was not enough. He needs time to understand that while Alice was partly right, that happiness is internal and is not something that can ever be reached through external pursuits, she was also partly wrong. There is such a thing as stagnation. Happiness sometimes is the pursuit itself. Emily finds happiness in the soul-sucking tedium of a corporate job, but Quentin realizes that he never can. And in the end maybe, just maybe, being a king in Fillory will make him happier.

In the end, the constant pursuit of happiness -- that quintessential belief that happiness does exist, somewhere out there -- is not, and cannot ever be, nihilistic.