A Wrinkle In Time.
It was rainy over the weekend and perfect time to curl up and reread A Wrinkle in Time. Madeleine L’Engle came across my radar again when one of my friends posted a quote, and suddenly I remembered how much I loved her books as a child.
Several thoughts: first, I remembered this book being longer. Maybe I was remembering the series as a whole instead? Or perhaps I’ve just gotten used to books with lengthy descriptive passages. Secondly, I was intrigued to find that I also didn’t remember as much overt talk of God, and then I started thinking of this series, the Narnia series, and His Dark Materials trilogy- and to some extent, Harry Potter- as its own sub-genre of young adult literature.
In some ways, A Wrinkle in Time wasn’t as amazing as I remembered. It’s underdeveloped in some ways- including half of the main family- and the themes lack even a hit of subtlety. Still, there was something comforting about opening this book to the first page and settling in to a world where smart kids encounter magical creatures and a giant evil brain. After all, every now and then, it’s nice to think that while you might be an outcast in one dimension, you could kick some ass in another (non-internet) one.
Now if only I could find a tesseract.