Hey, remember when I was going to open a new thread a week to discuss novels?
Me either. That must’ve been some other guy named Skald.
Anywhistle … let’s talk about A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L’Engle. Hell, we can talk about the rest of the time quartet too, if anybody wants, but let’s leave the non-kairos stuff (Vicky Austin, etc) for another day.
Wrinkle was probably my favorite book in elementary school; there was at least a year there that I checked it out at least once every six weeks from the school library. I’d have a hard time explaining why now–which I admit not to denigrate its quality, which I still find excellent, but rather because the things I loved about it are subtle and, for lack of a better word, subtextual. Somehow, even as a pre-teen black boy from the south who lived with two relatively uneducated parents, I really identified with an ungainly teenage white girl from New England who was the daughter of two Ph.Ds. Why, I’ll leave for another post.
A quintet of discussion topics and then I’ll toss this thread into the fray:
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If you were a fan of this story, what about it attracted you to it?
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Charles Wallace: fascinating little hyper-genius or insufferable little prat?
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How does Wrinkle stack up against its three sequels. (Well…companion volumes.)
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Do the fantasy elements add to or detract from the emotional content of the story? What about the religious elements? Would the novel have been better served by being more overt or more subtle?
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Madeleine L’Engle actually said in an interview that Da Vinci Code doesn’t suck. Does that mean she’s senile?
And we’re off.