A Wrinkle In Time had a profound impact on me as young reader. Not only did it change the way I view the world — most good books do, in one way or another — it helped form who I wanted to be, how I thought, and gave me a sense of hope that has rarely left me. Neither has the book. I gave away or sold many of my childhood books, and left most of the others with my father & step-mother (the glass-enclosed bookcase in the sunroom is a pleasant home for them — my earliest books, that is), but my original Dell Yearling edition of A Wrinkle In Time has stayed by my side.
“Why does anybody tell a story?” Ms. L’Engle once asked, even though she knew the answer.
“It does indeed have something to do with faith,” she said, “faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.”
She wrote with such liveliness and complexity, vibrancy and profundity, about family and morality and science and love, all well beyond what a child is supposed to understand, while never being condescending. She was gifted beyond measure.
If you haven't read it, maybe give it a try. In any case, buy a copy for a young girl or boy you know.
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