imaginarycircus

"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.” - M. L'Engle

As everyone probably already knows Madeleine L'Engle died last week at age 88. She is one of my favorite writers ever. When ever I am really depressed I turn to three writers over and over. L'Engle, Austen, and Salinger. Austen has been dead for forever. I never really think of Salinger as alive because crazy recluse with frozen peas who won't publish anything? Not really alive in some ways. Though I guess that isn't fair. But whatever this is about Madeleine. J.D. get out of here and go back to bugging your nurse who iirc is also your wife now.

When I had a hard time in college because I knew my mother was dying, but she wanted me to stay on the other side of the country and stay in school. I kept visiting second hand book shops to recover all the L'Engle books I'd read as a kid. They were like 50 cents. I read them all my junior year. They provided solace and distraction. I've always said I read the way an alcoholic drinks. But I kept rereading "The Arm of the Starfish," "A Ring of Endless Light," and "A House like a Lotus." They all deal with grieving in different ways and they were a crutch to me up until my mother died. I didn't read very much for the first two or three months after my mother died. I couldn't sit still. (Although I think I turned to Tolkien again after that. Partly because I read him every November.)

When we moved to NYC and I was feeling weird and lonely I started rereading "The Young Unicorns," and "A Severed Wasp." I dragged katrionaa to St. John the Divine last spring because I knew she would love to see the places from those books. I think I'll be making a visit there soon.

L'Engle's books comforted me as I knew my mother was dying and that I couldn't be there. I've had kind of a wacky week. Huge fight with David and then several days apart. I posted about it under heavy filter because it was too personal and painful to put out there for the world. We went to a wedding in Chinatown last night which was a trip. Though if I am never faced with melon covered in mayonnaise again I will be really happy. Mayonnaise is made out of evil (also oil, true.) David is off doing some deep thinking today. Just in the other room, but I am letting him be. I sat down to read the NYT's after five days of not really paying attention and was gobsmacked to see Madeleine L'Engle had passed. I was also shocked when I began to sob because I feel like I have lost a friend, a grandmother, a mentor. I know that is incredibly presumptuous on my part--but I adored her. I love her books. They have seen me through some rough times. I don't always agree with her theology and some of the quaintness of her early books makes me giggle. But I adore her shrewd story telling instinct and her incredible compassion.

I still vividly remember reading A Wrinkle in Time in sixth grade and getting goosebumps. Since I'm reading YA novels right now in preparation for starting my own (now that the story is growing arms and legs in my head and preparing to run) I think I should start with Wrinkle.

So tell me. Which is your favorite of her books? Or several of your favorites? And have you read her adult novels? Her journals? Her books about writing?