Circles of Books

We celebrated Christmas with my in laws today, and my niece, who is now 26, gave to my children a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends. They already have the book, but there is something deeply wonderful about her giving it to them because my husband and I (long before we were married) gave her a copy of that same book when she was about 7 years old. That she repeats the gift for my children, her cousins but a younger generation, is the first circle of books. The second is that this same niece gave me all the books in L'Engle's Time Quintet except A Wrinkle in Time because she assumed I would have the first book, which of course I do. I also have the second and third books, my own childhood copies sitting patiently on the shelf in my room waiting for my children (another circle that has just begun as my eldest has just started reading Wrinkle), but I do not have the fourth or fifth books. The series was finished after I grew up so I don't know those later books nearly as well as the early ones. Reading them now will be a joy.

I've been thinking a lot about L'Engle, partly because of Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me, but I was thinking about L'Engle before I discovered Stead. I guess I'm also thinking about Meg and Vicky because they are such a part of who I am. I met them when I was becoming me and they left a mark. When I re-read A Ring of Endless Light in my early 20s, I recall feeling that reading the book was like excavating myself as I discovered phrases I use that come from the book and also beliefs and ideals, deeply rooted in my identity and originating in that book.

So, my niece struck gold with me this Christmas by giving me a handful of books I've already read but giving me an excuse to read them again and showing me how well she knows me.

Writing for my own kids

One of the gifts I gave my children yesterday was a story that I told them in the summer. It was my explanation of what happened to Atlantis, and I told them the story one night in Cornwall where we were staying with good friends. They liked the story very much, and it was a pretty good story in my opinion, too. So, for Christmas, I wrote it out as a gift for them. My eldest (9 years old) realized right away what it was and appreciated it, but he was not super enthusiastic. My twins (6 years old) moved indifferently on to the next gift. I'm neither surprised nor hurt, but I do look forward to the time when they will love it. I'm reminded of C.S. Lewis' dedication to Lucy at the start of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in which he notes that he started writing when she loved fairy tales and now, she has gotten to old for them, but one day, she will rediscover fairy tales, and then she will take this book down from the shelf and find the magic in it. So, I say ditto.

When You Reach Me

I finished Rebecca Stead's When You Reach Me last night, and my immediate reaction was, "Man, I wish I wrote that!" It's a fabulous middle grade realist fantasy that owes a debt to Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time, which plays a central role. It's set in New York in 1979, and one of the most enjoyable parts of the novel is the setting. I was reading L'Engle in 1979, too, and Stead's evocation of the time seemed just right to me. That setting is so well crafted is particularly appropriate for a novel about time. Stead's description of the causal loop theory of time is especially good. If anyone out there is still looking for holiday gifts for middle graders or grown ups who were middle graders in the late-70s, I highly recommend When You Reach Me. Along with the great setting, the characters are vivid and real, and the narrative is gripping and suspenseful. It's a great read and wonderfully thought provoking.

First Post

I just finished grading papers for the three classes I taught this semester, and I have about four minutes before I collect kids from school, so it seemed like a good time to start a blog. Perhaps I'll use the minutes I have today to explain my title. So, I don't think anyone is terribly interested in Narnia, the place. Rather, I think the magic of those books is in the possibility of another world, accessible through the most ordinary means, like a wardrobe. The Wardrobe Door, thus, signifies to me the wonderful ways in which we enter other worlds, many readers hopefully opening wardrobes and tapping on the backs of closets. It signifies the wardrobe that leads to Narnia but also Platform 9 3/4 and the windows cut by Lyra and Will and tesseracts and the window that Peter and Wendy and Michael and John fly out and so many other magical passages. It also signifies my own efforts to create magic that might one day be added to this list, and it signifies the magic of watching my children actually open the door of my wardrobe and seeing the hopeful looks on their faces.