A Wrinkle in Time
Joshu is the Zen master cat of this house. He is himself unto himself, unless he needs breakfast, belly rubs, out of the house or into it. Joshu has taken to crying his let-me-in cry to me from outside on the shed top while I’m on the computer. He is trying to drive me nuts. Last night he was doing his crying thing and making me feel guilty. Finally, I left the desk, walked down the hall, opened the front door and miaowed down the space between our house and Mr. H’s. As I turned in disappointment to go back in the house, there was Joshu. He tessered, because “there is such a thing as a Tesseract.”
In this year of my Lord 2012, we celebrate the 50th anniversary of A Wrinkle in Time by the great Madeline L’Engle. For most of us, this single slim volume is the door to all of science fiction. Before we read Heinlein or Bradbury or Asimov, let alone Gaiman or Jordan or Card, we read Wrinkle. How did the ALA give this book the Newberry Award in 1962? Well, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.
“It was a dark and stormy night.” With this hoary line L’Engle opens A Wrinkle in Time and weaves her web there from. In that storm, we find our main character, Meg, up in her attic bedroom, worrying about everything. In a few short sentences, L’Engle shows us the whole Murray family: scientist parents, the perfectly normal twins, the scary brilliant littlest brother, Charles Wallace, and especially Meg. She is everygirl, with a mouth full of braces, glaring at the world through glasses and always ready for a fight. Her old friends confuse her with their sudden sense of affected maturity and neighbors drop insults about her family. Meg is uncomfortable in middle school, bored and missing her father. I have never seen a better or more succinctly drawn image of early adolescent angst.
The hero’s journey into the darkness to retrieve knowledge or gift is one of the two or three primary tales of human mythology. Meg wants her daddy back and will face any danger and the turmoil of wisdom to get him. During her journey, Meg meets guides of great power, a Happy Medium, the loving Aunt Beast and, terrifyingly, IT. In the sweet arrogance of the very young, Charles Wallace gets caught by a terrible power. As our heroine moves through dimensions and planets, she slowly dons the armor necessary to save her brother Charles. Daddy can’t save his baby boy. It is the myopic and snaggletoothed Meg who does battle against ultimate order with the chaos of love. Oh, and she gets her first kiss from a boy.
Now we come to the primary criticism of Madeline L’Engle and of A Wrinkle in Time, that she is writing Christian apologetics disguised as children’s literature. It seems that every civilization but ours is allowed to reference its sacred texts in its literature. When one of us quotes our scripture, as L’Engle uses “the foolishness of God” from 1st Corinthians, we are suspected of ulterior motives. But this great book is not a stalking horse for the Spanish Inquisition; no one is trying to brainwash anyone. Mrs. Whatsit quotes St. Paul because it is the clearest way to make her point to Meg. If L’Engle had quoted the Dhammapada, her critics would have thought her hip and open-minded. Instead, they pick at her with suspicions of duplicity. Give the old girl a rest—it’s just a story.
But, of course, it is far more than just. A Wrinkle in Time has opened so many minds to science fiction that we still recommend it 50 years later. To celebrate this wonder, I put it on display at the cash wrap. A few days ago, a handsome young woman was gazing lovingly at the original cover art on the anniversary edition. Her swain asked, “What is that book? I never heard of it.” Well, now he has and he reminded me that I, as a bookseller, still have work to do. The Tesseract is out there to be understood and Madeline L’Engle will show us. Joshu knows how to tesser. Do you?
