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Critics love to bash Loreena. The Celtic mystery priestess throws theology, romantic poetry, and pagan symbology around like rice at a wedding. She arrays her whispery voice in a synth-drenched coat of groovy ethnic sounds and ignores the boundaries separating "traditional," "pop," and "classical." McKennitt's 11-minute take on Alfred Noyes's poem "The Highwayman" may verge on the cliché, but clichés become clichés precisely because they work. And McKennitt's considerable musical skill and strong grasp of traditional song forms works, too. She's an excellent harpist/accordionist with a great ear for sonic links between various traditions -- the mournful cadences of "Skellig" certainly sound traditional, but which tradition? Irish? French? Eastern European? For The Book of Secrets, McKennitt threw a pungent handful of Indo-Arabian sounds into her new age teapot; on "Marco Polo," the flavor is alluring, sort of like a laid-back younger sister to Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir." Like a Hollywood adventure movie or a fantasy novel, The Book of Secrets requires a suspension of disbelief, yet it delivers myriad pleasures to those who can take it on its own terms. Erik Goldman, Barnes & Noble