The sonic screwdriver from Doctor Who might have worked, having been canonically established as being ineffective on wood, but nobody had ever figured out how to use the controls on the blasted thing.

I had said before that all stories were magic. It had never occurred to me that all magic was stories.

As was often the case, Magic just chuckled and kicked physics in the balls, leaving it groaning and wondering what just happened.

Every libromancer had a first book. Etched more sharply into my memory than my first kiss, this book had been my magical awakening.