A Wrinkle in Time
Do you ever retread a book that you loved when you were young, and find there were huge parts that went right over your head? That happened to me on my recent retread of “A Wrinkle in Time.”
I loved these books growing up, even though I never read much fantasy/science fiction. The fact that my mother let me read L’Engle should have been my first clue that they were on some approved Christian reading list somewhere. Which, hey, nothing wrong with that. I just loved Meg’s awkwardness, and hoped that one day maybe I would grow out of that gawky adolescent stage. Maybe I would go on some kind of epic time bending adventure where I would save the day and the whole world. I also was enthralled with the idea of time “wrinkling.” This simple illustration has a permanent place inside one of my own brain wrinkles:
As a child, I loved when books presented a way to reconcile my family’s faith with imaginings and creations and, well, science. We practiced a faith that relied heavily on the literal interpretation of the Bible, or at least parts of it. The Earth was 6,000 years old, and anything not talked about in its pages didn’t exist. Unless we wanted it to, of course. I guess books – novels – were the first thing that made me realize that words on a page were open to interpretation.
A Wrinkle in Time is itself a book that is open to varying interpretations. Reaction from religious circles is split – some praise it, some try to ban it. The is certainly support for both positions in the text. Based on this interview with the author, it seems that hers is a more expansive view than the one I grew up with, and for that I am certainly thankful.