[In The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath, Garner] made use of much of the material of earlier attempts at creating contemporary sagas and it seemed likely at first that he was planning a sustained series. These stories of the knights bound in sleep until they can be wakened to fight the forces of evil have moments of strength, but are marred by uncertainty in their organisation, roughness in the writing and a general sense of unsureness of touch…. [They] are clearly prentice work and the author abandoned this vein when he moved on to stronger work. He is at his best with the natural surroundings of the stories, which are set at Alderley Edge in Cheshire, and at his worst with the children, who are not fully realised and do not come alive.

The same defect is apparent in Elidor, an otherwise far better book. Four children in one of the poorer districts of Manchester explore a ruined church and suddenly find themselves not transported to, but living a parallel life in the terrifying land of Elidor. The two worlds overlap and the disturbing, at times frightening, fusion of this other world and the everyday world makes this a highly original book…. (pp. 143-44)

Elidor has been a much praised book and I am going against the weight of critical opinion in saying that to me it seems a contrived one. (p. 144)

[The Owl Service is essentially a modern story] of tension between youth and age, class and class, Welsh and English, with powerful forces of hatred and revenge, illegitimacy and adultery brooding over the protagonists. (p. 145)

On a first reading, especially to a reader unfamiliar with the Mabinogion, much of [the plot of The Owl Service] seems inflated and insincere, but on a second reading, with the symbolism more familiar, the tension and power that the author has built into the relationships become impressive. The themes of jealousy, social distinction and past hatreds are painfully real. It is obviously a powerful and significant novel and though there is an atmosphere about it that is at times snobbish and unpleasant this is possibly intended.

The Owl Service, more than any other book for children, puts critics, librarians, teachers and everyone else professionally interested in the matter of children's reading, on their mettle. Is it, or is it not, a book suitable for children? And is it, or is it not, successful? Is it a good book? The last question is the easiest to answer simply. Yes, of course it is. It stands head and shoulders above the average book written for children and is obviously the work of a genuinely creative artist. Nevertheless it does not seem to me wholly successful. Too much is made, I feel, of the legend and the dinner service, and the author is so convincing at human relationships and the development of his characters that he could almost certainly have made as good a book, perhaps even a better one, without the elaborately contrived symbolism. (pp. 145-46)

It will be very interesting to see along what lines Alan Garner develops his work. Having aroused so much controversy and attracted so much critical interest so early in his career he must inevitably feel the need to live up to it. He is unlikely, therefore, ever to turn to a simpler kind of writing. But it cannot be altogether healthy for a writer for children to be so conscious of the need to be intelligent, different, challenging—the need always to produce a new work that is more demanding than the last. It is this obvious perfectionalism that makes him so unusual even among his contemporaries. He takes his craft very seriously, gives far more time to each book than the majority of present-day writers and has probably given more thought to the theory and practice of writing for children than anyone else. (pp. 146-47)

If thinking were all that is necessary to make a good book, Alan Garner would undoubtedly in time produce some of the best children's books ever written. But loving is at least as important, and in this quality he seems less well endowed. (p. 147)