Josh's Crosstime Salute

As I have noted before, I do not have a lot of memories. Madeleine L'Engle fills a higher percentage of the memories of the less recent past than almost anybody else I have only met once, and more than (almost?) any other author at all.

The starting point for me, as with so many others, was A Wrinkle in Time. I had no problem with the story. I had no problem with the morality. I had no problem with the characters. I only had one problem, really... I wanted Meg to be my big sister. I've read on a couple other LJs that some boys connected with none of those characters - that to them, Calvin seemed scarcely male and Meg seemed alien. Charles Wallace? Less even than alien.

I got some of how Meg felt. I got her frustrations. But it was Charles Wallace with whom I identified. Charles Wallace felt loved, and while I think I would not have thought to put those words on it at the time, I think that was the feeling I was missing, myself. There was no doubt in Charles Wallace's head or heart about how his sister felt about him.

As years passed, I read each of the novels that came out. Arm of the Starfish was next - and realizing that Dr. O'Keefe was Calvin was quite the eye-opener for me. People grow up, I guess - some lesson of that sort - and their worlds change. I was always a fan of Poly. The Young Unicorns, Dragons in the Waters, A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet... and going backwards, too, to Camilla, And Both Were Young, and finally finding The Small Rain after I had already read A Severed Wasp. I love and loved the ways her worlds crossed, the fact that time did not work all that well...

In the Spring of '77 or maybe '78, I got involved with the "Amber Society," a group of Zelazny fans who adopted the characters from his Amber Chronicles. They were not the most formal of groups, but they were together enough to put out an occasional APA (Amateur Publishing Association) magazine, by the name of Kolvir. The editor decided to do a series of reviews: Men writing about female authors' treatments of male characters, and women writing about male authors' treatments of female characters.

I chose Madeleine L'Engle.

At the same time that this was happening, I was also prepping to teach a Children's Lit class at the MIT High School Studies Program. These two activities gave me the impetus to call Farrar, Strauss, Giroux, who were L'Engle's publishers (for her hardcovers), to seek an interview. I got bounced around a bit, as is often the case with such things, but finally landed somebody who listened to my request and my reasoning. He called L'Engle, and she agreed to grant me a one hour interview at Crosswicks, her home in Connecticut.

I and my mini-tape recorder made the drive down and, after a couple of missed turns, made my way to Crosswicks, where she greeted me and made me welcome. And we talked. She showed me the stone wall where Louise the Larger lived, and Meg's attic room. And we talked. And we played ping pong, and talked some more. We discussed giftedness and connectedness and girls and boys and the impact of books on lives. We talked about music and fantasy and the intersection of them.

We talked about family.

We talked about four hours. She had to change gears, I had to go.

But to the extent that it was possible, I had Meg for a big sister.