Reading was my first love

(image via Pinterest//link)

There are other things I should be writing about.  I was going to post about our getting yard work done and go through and update my 26-while-I’m-26 list  I am shockingly late with Milo’s 7 month post (he’ll be 8 months in 2 weeks), but today I’m just thinking about the things I usually think about.  Getting into a groove, forming solid routines, planning what the summer will look like, feeling certain that I’ll be more organized, more efficient, and successful in all my endeavors…later.  In July.  Next school year.  Soon.

I’m rereading A Wrinkle In Time by Madeline L’Engle, and I love it so very much.  This Christmas was the first time I read the whole thing, and it kind of screamed at me.  “Here are characters you can love, people who are awkward and angry and stubborn and don’t feel understood!”  There is very subtle romance, adventure, fantasy, and science fiction.  L’Engle also writes in this style that I recognize but don’t have a name for.  It’s the same way the C. S. Lewis writes.  I might have tried to describe it before.  It’s just gentle and matter of fact.  There isn’t time taken to try and convince you of anything about the world or characters.  There is a delicious suspension of disbelief by everyone involved.  I need better names for my personally identified genres.  I feel this “matter of fact” writing as strongly as I feel the “list” kind of writing from Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I read those books to live through their explanations of daily chores.  I’m still jealous that I’ve never changed the straw ticking in my mattress.

Here are some of the lines that made me reach for an imaginary pencil to underline:

Calvin put a strong hand to Meg’s elbow, and Fort pressed against her leg.  Happiness at their concern was so strong in her that her panic fled, and she followed Charles Wallace into the dark recesses of the house without fear.

“Lead on, moron,” Calvin cried gaily.  “I’ve never even seen your house, and I have the funniest feeling that for the first time in my life I’m going home!”

Charles Wallace put his hands on his hips defiantly.  “The spoken word is one of the triumphs of man,” he proclaimed, “and I intend to continue using it, particularly with people I don’t trust.”

[Meg] wanted to reach out and grab Calvin’s hand, but it seemed that ever since they had begun their journeyings she had been looking for a hand to hold, so she stuffed her fists into her pockets and walked along behind the two boys. -I’ve got to be brave, she said to herself. -I will be.

“Maybe I don’t like being different,” Meg said, “but I don’t want to be like everyone else, either.”

I don’t feel like I’m doing a good enough job of telling you that you should probably read this book.  I just checked the two “companion pieces” (don’t call those sequels…) from the library, and am ignoring important school reading to dive in head first.  I’ll let you know how it goes.