Kingfisher is not your everyday fantasy, nor is it the kind of book I usually enjoy. Blurring the lines between genres, this ethereal and strangely abstract tale should have stymied me on so many levels, so no one is more shocked than I am at how deeply it resonated with me. It shouldn’t have worked for me—and in truth, not every aspect of the story did—but I did find certain elements greatly appealing. It helped too that I went into this book with no preconceptions and absolutely no clue what to expect at all. So I was surprised to discover early on that Kingfisher appears to be a retelling of—or at least, a story with many allusions to—the quest for the Holy Grail. It occurred to me then, that in spite of the popularity of stories about King Arthur and the knights of his court, I’ve not actually read much Arthurian fantasy. That being said, it doesn’t taken an expert to see that McKillip’s take on the genre is special, wildly inventive, and atypical of many others. The beginning of the book can only be described as abrupt, introducing us to Pierce Oliver in a brief scene helping out a…