It is Margaret I mourn for

I never wrote a fan letter in my life, but over the last few months I have thought seriously about writing to Madeleine L'Engle. A brief but heated argument about A Wrinkle in Time reminded me of how much L'Engle's books have meant to me, both as a reader and as a teacher, and I wanted to offer my hero belated thanks.

After learning of Ms. L'Engle's death, I deeply regret that I never wrote that letter. I doubt seriously that my letter would have made much of an impression (it would have been a mere drop in an ocean of fan mail, I'm sure), but I would feel easier in my mind. As it is, I am left with an enormous debt, which could never be repaid but which should have been acknowledged.

Gerard Manley Hopkins's poem "Spring and Fall: To a Young Child" reminds me that the sadness I feel at Ms. L'Engle's death is mostly for myself and not for a woman who lived a full and rich life and is now beyond the reach of grief or pain.

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older,
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Remembering Madeleine L'Engle

I learned today that Madeleine L'Engle has died, and suddenly my world is a darker place.

I have loved Madeleine L'Engle since third grade, when I first read A Wrinkle in Time. I've read it many, many times since then, and it has never failed to touch me with its message of hope and redemption. I strongly identified with Meg Murry, a social misfit who travels across space and time to rescue her imprisoned father and discover her own unique worth. (Perhaps the story resonated more personally with me because one of my best friends was another Meg with glasses, braces, impossible hair, and an attic bedroom.) I still remember thrilling to Meg's declaration "Like and equal are two entirely different things!" and her revelation that she had something the supremely evil IT lacked: the ability to love.

As I look back, it seems to me that I rediscovered L'Engle at every stage of my growing up. I read A Wrinkle in Time and A Wind in the Door in elementary school; Meet the Austins and The Moon by Night in middle school; A Swiftly Tilting Planet, The Arm of the Starfish, and A Ring of Endless Light in high school; and An Acceptable Time and Troubling a Star after college. Along the way, L'Engle taught me about Einsteinian physics, empathy, genetics, Shakespeare, grace, marine biology, Robert Frost, interdependence, the value of poetry, and the restorative properties of cinnamon toast.

L'Engle also taught me that it is possible to be both an intellectual and a Christian, to combine a faithful heart with an active mind, a lesson I value all the more because I hear it so infrequently in this increasingly polarized society.

My husband struggles to comfort me as I mourn my hero's passing. He wants to be sympathetic, but he's clearly bewildered by my grieving for a woman I didn't even know. True, I never met Madeleine L'Engle, but I did know her, or at least she knew me. She was my friend and teacher all of my life, and I would not be the person I am without her loving and thoughtful influence.

"She was eighty-eight years old," my husband reminds me. "That's a long life by any standard." He's right, of course, but this is not the way the heart reasons. How can Madeleine L'Engle be old? How can Madeleine L'Engle die? This simply isn't possible.

The authors we read as children become our parents, ideal mothers and fathers frozen in time. It never occurs to us that these beloved perfect parents might be only human after all.

In Defense of Jacob Black

Contains some oblique spoilers

I've been reading some of the customer reviews (at www.Amazon.com and www.bn.com) of Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse, and I have three responses to those readers who accuse Jacob of manipulating Bella.

1. Yeah, he does.

2. She deserves it. I'm not defending his choice to kiss her without permission--that was clearly over the line--but Bella's been playing mind games with Jacob since she met him, and it's about time he called her on it. Bella's always known how he felt about her, even before he openly declared his love. The fact is, she took shameless advantage of him, particularly when she was so devastated by Edward's leaving in New Moon. Bella calls Jacob her best friend, but the closeness they share--the time they spend together, the wordless intimacy, the frequent hugging and hand-holding--goes well beyond simple friendship. What Bella has demanded of Jacob in the past is the emotional intimacy of a romantic relationship without any strings attached. As someone who's been on both sides of such a relationship, I can tell you that this is not only blatantly unfair but cruel.

3. Edward is every bit as manipulative as Jacob, but of course Bella and the reader adore Edward, so his manipulation appears romantic and forceful or, at worst, endearingly annoying. I'm reminded of the film Say Anything, in which John Cusack fights for the girl he loves by standing outside her house with a boombox blaring out "their" song. When I first saw the film, I thought this scene was breathtakingly romantic and I wished someone would do that for me. Several years later, someone did stand outside my apartment, ringing the doorbell, calling my name, and throwing things at my window. I didn't find it at all romantic; I found it terrifying, as did my roommate, who called the police. I had a very different perspective on the guy-on-the-sidewalk-with-the-boombox scene after that.

Unfortunately, the line between romance and manipulation is a very subjective one, and it all comes down to whether, in her heart of hearts, the girl really wants the guy to be out there on the sidewalk, refusing to take no for an answer.

Blogging Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse

Let me just begin by saying that I am vindicated! In my first posting about Stephenie Meyer, I called the Twilight series Bronte-esque. Sure enough, I have learned that one of Meyer's favorite books is Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, and she explicitly references Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights in her latest novel, Eclipse.

Eclipse is, quite simply, wonderful. Sometimes by the third novel, a series begins to run out of steam, but Meyer's imagination continues to astonish me. I should also admit that Edward, the vampire love interest, has finally won me over. I didn't like him much at all in the first book, Twilight: he was so cold, superior, and remote, even in his love scenes with Bella, the protagonist. In fact, Bella was the one who insisted on his superiority: "You're so beautiful and perfect and wonderful, let me throw away my worthless life for you." Grr. By the end of the second book, New Moon, I'd warmed up to Edward considerably, although I still preferred Jacob, the werewolf who also falls in love with Bella.

In Eclipse, Edward fully redeems himself (in my eyes, that is; I know there are plenty of readers who share Bella's belief that he's perfect just the way he is). Not only does Edward drop the superior act, but even he expresses annoyance with Bella's idolization of him. "The way you regard me is ludicrous," he growls. (You'd better believe I stood up and cheered when I read that!) I still have a soft spot for Jacob, but as the love triangle emerged, I found myself more torn, just as Bella is.

No spoilers, but here's a brief synopsis for those who are still waiting their turn for the library copy:

In their senior year of high school, Edward pushes Bella to apply for college and plan a normal life, but Bella is eager to become a vampire so that they can truly be together. When she attracts a mysterious stalker as well as the attention of the Volturi (the supreme authorities in the vampire world), Edward reluctantly admits that Bella might be safer undead. Even so, he insists on one condition before the conversion, and this is a decision Bella is not prepared to make. Meanwhile, Jacob declares his love for Bella and challenges her to confront her true feelings for him. Just at the moment when it seems Bella must make her most difficult decision, a new threat forces ancient enemies into an uneasy alliance.