As a writer, I often take a look at what works for other writers. Take this excerpt, for example. It's from the book which made me fall in love with fantasy, The Little White Horse, by Elizabeth Goudge, originally published in 1946. I have read it over and over. By the way, it is J.K. Rowling's favorite book as well. Before I read that, no one I asked had ever heard of this novel.
The turret stairs ended at a door so small that a large grown-up could not possibly have got through it. But for a slim girl of thirteen it was exactly right. Maria stopped and gazed at it with a beating heart, for though this little narrow low door was obviously hundreds of years old yet she felt as though it had been made expecially for her. For if she had been able to choose her own door this was the door she would have chosen. It was more like a front door than a bedroom door, like the door of her very own house. It was of silvery grey oak studded with silver nails, and it had a knocker made of the smallest daintiest horseshoe Maria had ever seen, polished so brightly that it shone like silver. At sight of it Maria thoguth instantly of the little white horse she had thought she had seen in the park, and that she had pointed out to Miss Heliotrope...only Miss Heliotrope hadn't been able to see it. The door was opened by a silver latch that, when Maria lifted it, clicked in a friendly sort of way, as thought it was welcoming her.
So what works for me as the reader in this particular passage? Simple. EG allows the main character to feel that being a child is more special than being an adult. For the reader whose life is full of adult restrictions, that is blissful escape.
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