A Review of Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time: The Graphic Novel, adapted and illustrated by Hope Larson

I am always puzzled by people who dislike even a well-done adaptation of a book to film on the grounds that it doesn’t contain every bit of the book. A book and a film are two different formats, with a film clearly being a tighter format than a book. While I realize a graphic novel is a book in one’s hands, it is nevertheless limited in much the same way a film is by its visual elements and its very immediacy. (Ironically, the current move towards present-tense narratives in YA and even middle grade fiction can be seen as an effort to capture the immediacy of film.)

A graphic novel, even if it is an adaptation, must be understood as a compact narrative. I was wondering how well this famous, beloved book would translate to the graphic novel format… Of course, it depends on who is doing the translating. Hope Larson does a very, very good job.

I’m thinking of a contrast that highlights Larson’s effectiveness. Take the graphic novel of Twilight. Although I liked it on some levels, the choice to go with a manga style gives us really sweet-looking characters. I think it would have been more effective with a grittier style.

And there’s a certain sweetness to Hope Larson’s artwork for A Wrinkle in Time. Charles Wallace would be pretty darling if he weren’t scary smart. I wasn’t sure what to think of him in this book. You may not even realize you have a picture of what Meg looks like, or Calvin, or the three “witches,” until you see how Larson has envisioned them. For example, in Larson’s book, Calvin has a crooked nose. I checked in the original, and he doesn’t, not that the author indicates, anyway. So the nose threw me off a little, though I think the adapter-illustrator wanted to make Calvin more accessible, especially to Meg.

There’s a lot of handholding going on, with a light suggestion of romantic interest between Meg and Calvin. Actually, Larson makes the hand holding into a theme for Meg, and it does pop up on occasion in the original book. For example, when Meg goes back to save Charles Wallace, Mrs. Who says, “I ccannnott hholldd yyourr hanndd, chilldd.” And Charles Wallace is holding Meg’s hand tightly when they land in the broccoli patch after their escape. L’Engle is certainly wise enough to imply that Meg must grow up and act for herself, without having her hand held at the most terrifying moment of all. And Meg's love for Charles Wallace saves him, so that handholding makes sense. I do feel that Larson did more with the idea than L’Engle—see for yourself how you think it works.

 

Now, one challenge of illustrating the story is that IT was always going to be more scary in the reader’s imagination than in an illustration—in fact, reading about IT without giggling is sometimes hard to do. It’s easy to make SNL-type jokes about a giant blob of brain sitting on a platform. But the story sweeps us along, and the brain isn’t that bad. In fact, Larson handles the problem by outright acknowledging the absurdity. On page 286, she sets up the coming visual of IT with a series of shots of Meg’s little crew reacting, looking a tad like McCauley Culkin in that famous Home Alone pose. Oh, the horror! Then on page 287 we get, “—a brain.” And Larson throws in some sound effects coupled with visual effects, all in voice bubbles: “Quiver.” “Glorp.” “Gurgle.” “Squish.” “Ooooooze.” After which we move immediately to Charles Wallace succumbing still more to IT, his eyeballs starting to twirl on page 288.

Any fan of the original Wrinkle in Time may have the movie adaptation reaction I mentioned above. But flex your thinking a little, and I suspect you’ll find that Hope Larson’s graphic novel does justice to L’Engle’s wonderful book.

There Is Such a Thing as a Tesseract

It was a dark and stormy night.

In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. Behind the trees clouds scudded frantically across the sky. Every few moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraith-like shadows that raced along the ground.

The house shook.

Wrapped in her quilt, Meg shook.

She wasn't usually afraid of weather. —It's not just the weather, she thought. —It's the weather on top of everything else. On top of me. On top of Meg Murry doing everything wrong.

I read a lot when I was a kid, and I mean a lot. But I still remember the feeling I got from reading A Wrinkle in Time. I was an odd duck, like Meg, and late elementary/junior high school was a difficult time for me. I just didn't fit. So reading the book was reassuring—here was someone like me, and she said the wrong things, and she got emotional like me, and yet, she was a hero. Not in a smooth and shiny way, but in a prickly, klutzy way, which I knew very well was the only way I would ever be any kind of hero.

That wasn't the only reason I loved the book, though. I was enchanted by the rest of the cast, too, particularly Charles Wallace and the three not-exactly-witches with the way-clever names. I loved the strangeness of the story, as well, the way it led me across the fold of a skirt to planets where beautiful beings lived, and terrifying ones.

Of course, IT was such a brazenly B-movie villain (even if I didn't know the term "B-movie" quite yet); I'm still asking myself just how it is that Madeleine L'Engle makes him/it work? She leads us up to that moment with those robotic kids playing in front of their poison cookie-cutter houses, that's how. And the mind-capture of Charles Wallace—shudder! L'Engle has a wonderful touch with details. I've never forgotten the disquieting softness of a father's beard and hair that have grown out as he stood trapped inside his futuristic cell.

Well. It's been 50 years since the book first come out. I can't remember where I first read the story, but Madeleine L'Engle had a very difficult time getting the book published. She sent it off to a couple of dozen publishers and they all turned it down, so she stuck it in a drawer and basically gave up. Then a friend of hers told her she knew John Farrar of Farrar Straus and Giroux. Please note that FSG did not have a children's division at the time. The friend passed the manuscript to Farrar and he loved it, so FSG basically started a children's division for L'Engle's book. The next year, when she won the Newbery, Madeleine went to a celebratory dinner and was approached by various editors saying, "Why didn't you send it to me?" Her answer, of course, was, "I did." They were astonished, but she had the rejection slips to prove it. (Part of this account appears in the commemorative edition's afterword.)

One interesting note: I've found that people (especially librarians) can debate endlessly over whether this book is science fiction or fantasy. It fits easily in both categories, though I suppose I lean a little towards science fiction, myself. At any rate, A Wrinkle in Time opened the door to a new kind of creativity in the children's SFF genre. (The art to the above left depicting Mrs. Which, Mrs. Whatsit, and Mrs. Who is by Eugene Eian Lee.)

As a participant in A Wrinkle in Time's 50th anniversary blog tour, I agreed to write a poem or two in honor of the occasion. (And yes, I will give a brazen shout-out to my forthcoming poetry book, Water Sings Blue, while I'm at it.) It was easy to decide to write a poem about Meg, but then I said half-jokingly on Twitter that I might write a poem about the boy with the ball, and the response was pretty positive. So I've written both. The second poem also attempts to answer the question my sister asked me last week when I told her about the post: "What happened to the rest of the people on Camazotz?" And by the way, in case you were wondering, the planet was named after a Mayan bat god associated with death, night, and sacrifice.


Tesseract

Sometimes I look down
at my feet as I walk
through dirt and gravel
and dead grass, stepping
and stepping, not getting
very far really.

The numbers line up
in my head like the students
in my class.

At lunch, who
will sit with me?

After school, which
one should I punch first?

Every morning, why
do I brush my hair
and go back?

There is no one who
will tell me what
to do or why
to do it.

All I am
is Meg walking down a street
to meet something terrible.

All I am
is Meg holding hands
with a small
wise-eyed brother.

All I am
is Meg.



The Boy with the Ball

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts
and then—
it stops. I drop the ball
(the thing that started it all).
But it is mine.
I pick it up again, put it
in my pocket.

Nothing.
Where before there were walls
without windows or doors.
I walk down a gray hall.

Up ahead, I see someone running
the other way.
No one comes.
No one yells at me.

I wander
till I find a vast space.
A brain pulses on a dais.
I feel unseen claws grasping.
This is the thing
that hurt me. I stand still.

Boy, you are one of mine,
the brain tells me. But its words
cannot hold me.
My heart skips. I stumble
and fall like a dropped ball.

I scramble up.
"No," I say. "I am broken."
That's what they told me.
(But I got up just now.)
I take the ball from my pocket
and throw it as hard as I can.
It makes a dull thunk.

I run out of the building,
past confused people
in dark suits. I run
to the street where my house is.
Children stand staring down
at red rubber balls
and jump ropes lying there
like dead snakes.

"Come on," I say,
and they follow me
up the hill, where I show them
how to climb a tree.


Meg and Charles Wallace, Calvin and Mrs. Whatsit—like Harriet the Spy and Charlie of chocolate factory fame, they will live on across many wrinkles of time, iconic, flawed, and lovable. Because Meg loves her little brother, and so, in spite of Meg's feeling of being all wrong, everything really is all right.


Here's the link to the Wrinkle in Time Facebook page and the list of 50 participating blogs (wow!).

The 50th Anniversary Commemorative edition has some extra features. It's the orange book shown at the top of this post on the right; the book at the top left is the paperback commemorative edition.

o Frontispiece photo*+
o Photo scrapbook with approximately 10 photos*+
o Manuscript pages*+
o Letter from 1963 Caldecott winner, Ezra Jack Keats*+
o New introduction by Katherine Paterson, US National Ambassador for Young People's Literature +
o New afterword by Madeleine L'Engle's granddaughter Charlotte Voiklis including six never-before-seen photos +
o Murry-O'Keefe family tree with new artwork +
o Madeleine L'Engle's Newbery acceptance speech

I will confess that this list came with no explanation for the various asterisks, so feel free to make up your own meaning for them. But you get the idea!

This post is linked to Poetry Friday (2/10), hosted by poet Laura Purdie Salas.

Also: I have the book with the yellow cover, 2nd up on the right. What about you? Which version matches your memory of A Wrinkle in Time? Or did you have that turquoise one?

My Top 10, Your Top 10: Announcing Betsy Bird's Middle Grade Book Poll

By way of encouraging you to vote for your Top 10 middle grade books in Betsy Bird's new poll, I will share with you my nominations, annotated because hey, who doesn't annotate in this wild and wooly world of ours?

You may remember that last year, noted School Library Journal children's book blogger (and librarian) Elizabeth Bird of Fuse #8 collected votes for the Top 100 Picture Books of all time, a list I recommend you peruse if you haven't already—I keep a copy of the final list on my computer, but the detailed entries counting down to #1 are also a treat, starting here. (Or just link off the master list.)

Well, she's at it again, only this time for middle grade fiction. Each participant must suggest 10 titles, in order of preference, and Bird will do the math to create a Top 100 list. The deadline for giving your input is January 31, 2010. See contact information in her announcement post.

My Top 10 Middle Grade Books of All Time

1. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl—I put this first, over Charlotte's Web, because I've noticed that young contemporary readers sometimes find Charlotte's Web too slow paced. The idea of a kid like Charlie Bucket finding that one golden ticket, winning entry into a chocolate fantasyland and then beating out gruesome children like Mike TV and Veruca Salt, still entrances, the action holding its own against today's fast-paced adventures. The narrative voice is still perfectly appealing, with a faint satirical edge. Then there are the wonderful tiny details, like the fact that Mr. Bucket works in a factory putting the caps on tubes of toothpaste, or those four delightful, decrepit grandparents sharing one large bed. Not to mention the powerful image of hungry Charlie finding money in the icy street...

2. Charlotte's Web by E.B. White—And yet, has there ever been a better book? One of my personal criteria for great stories is fresh, off-the-wall plots, and to this day, I challenge you to find an odder premise than the spider who saves a young pig by spinning words into her web. That's not even getting into the strength of the characterization, from patient Charlotte and immature Wilbur to secondary delights such as the geese with their repetitive vocal patterns or surly Templeton and his smelly hoard. Did I mention well written? Such clean, sure language!

3. Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli—Here's the thing: every so often I get this book out, thinking I'll take it to a new student's house the next day, and a few hours later I look up, dazed, realizing I've read the whole thing again. Maniac Magee is one of the best characters in the annals of children's fiction, as innocent as Voltaire's Candide, an Everykid who questions the status quo without even meaning to, a tall tale hero at the same time. Able to unravel the unravellable ball of string, yet allergic to pizza? Able to read a book and run like the wind while catching a pass, yet unable to find a true home? Maniac isn't just a legend in this book; he's a legend for young readers.

4. The King of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner—This book beat out some very big names, insisting on a spot on the list because it is, quite simply, one of the best I've ever read. Yes, you really should read The Thief and The Queen of Attolia first, but that's simply extra payoff as you watch Turner create her compelling Greco-Byzantine fantasy world with its subtle pantheon of very real gods. Turner's work is the epitome of craftsmanship, the reason I've read The King of Attolia repeatedly, something I can only say about a handful of books. You'll be hard-pressed to find the questions Turner brings up as thoughtfully considered in adult fiction: What makes a hero, or a leader? What does love really mean, and loyalty? All this and an adventure, too! As for the characters, they are rounded and real, with Gen leading the pack as a marvelously sly, cantankerous, vain, yet ultimately kind Trickster King, a new hero for a new millenium.

5. Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh—Harriet's family wasn't anything like mine, but I still recognized her as a kindred spirit when I was a kid. She was curious about things, and she didn't know when to stop. I loved following her around as she found her way into people's lives and wrote about what she saw. My heart broke when the other kids turned on her, especially when they created a Harriet-hating club—every child's worst fear taken to an extreme. How real that bath felt to me after she ran home, covered with ink! And yet, she survived. I figured maybe I could, too. I still write in notebooks.

6. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling—I seethed over the injustice of Uncle Vernon stealing Harry's letters of invitation to Hogwarts, then delighted in the humorous escalation as letters poured into the house with inhuman determination, finally followed by a benign giant on a flying motorcycle who had the good sense to acknowledge that it was Harry's birthday! And that first ride on the Hogwarts Express... On top of her ability to create a likable cast of characters and an impressive story arc, I most admire Rowling for her delicious details. I don't know which I like better, Quidditch or Bertie Bott's Everyflavor Beans!

7. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis—I once worked with a man who wouldn't let his daughter read the Narnia books because of the religious symbolism. I thought to myself, Hey, if she doesn't know a thing about Christianity, she won't notice the symbolism! For that matter, I was raised Christian, and the only thing that mattered to me about the books was the storytelling. All of the hokey, derivative portals written about since in children's fantasy can't ruin the joy of that wardrobe with its forest of fur coats and the unexpected scent of snow beyond. The White Witch, with her bribe of Turkish Delight, gave me the shivers, and I loved characters like the pathetic, treacherous Faun, let alone the thought that a girl could learn to shoot an arrow and become a queen.

8. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L'Engle—This book remade the field, and it continues to shine in terms of its characterization, especially the gift of Meg Murry. I'm sure I wasn't the only gawky, ill-spoken girl to feel that if Meg could be a hero, so could I. Meg saves the world in such a homely way, out of simple love and loyalty. This, too, seems doable to a young reader. You would think that Camazotz, with its evil oppressor, the giant brain, would seem dated by now. But L'Engle's storytelling holds up. The little boy who bounces the ball wrong, the fact that the brain is named IT, and the marvelous Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Which, and Mrs. Who still stand out in a field where books about saving the world threaten to topple the shelves in bookstores with their combined weight.

9. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett—Again and again, I find myself thinking about character as I create this Top Ten list. Which makes The Secret Garden a somewhat surprising choice, since Mary is not a likable child. But who wants to read about sweet little dears who never have to worry about a thing? I've always loved how Mary managed first to survive, and then to find beauty and love in a world entirely unwilling to offer her those things. Her request for a bit of earth is right up there with Oliver's request for more food, and it ends up changing the lives of everyone around her. The garden itself is a character in the book, a place of refuge and kindness, like the best books themselves. To this day, I keep plants around me, as well as books. Mary taught me that.

10. Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder—I'm not usually a big fan of historical fiction, but these books are the exception. Laura's family feels like a piece of my own history, not of my country and my ancestors, but as a child growing up in a family. In today's world, when families are more likely to seem disconnected, it doesn't hurt to take the Ingalls as role models. They aren't perfect, but they work together, handling life in such a sturdy, dedicated way. Laura and her family are real and dimensional as they laugh and cry over things like harvesting maple sugar, playing ball with a pig's bladder, getting through the winter, and making music together. And that's just the first book!

Note: For a longer list of middle grade picks, see my post from December 11, 2009, in which I select the best 40 titles from the last century and the best 10 from the past decade.

Update: If you'd like to participate in a comparable poll for the top 100 YA (Young Adult/teen) books, link through to Diane Chen's announcement post at Practically Paradise.

A Review of When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

When You Reach Me is the kind of book that wins the Newbery Award. Remember that next year, because I will be very surprised if this doesn't get at least a Newbery Honor, or even win.

It's the kind of book where various bits and pieces manage to seem symbolic even as they do a perfectly good job of carrying the story along. How can a story full of such ordinary details seem so intense and cosmic? Perhaps the greatest trick the author pulls off is to put in vats of significance without adding even one viscous drop of that goop, pomposity.

When You Reach Me is a book that weaves in another book, A Wrinkle in Time, for more than one reason.

It's a book that talks about friendship in a way few books have. Among them is Louise Fitzhugh's Harriet the Spy, another book which is alluded to once here, albeit obliquely.

And even though When You Reach Me is a book about kids and friendship, I spent the whole thing in a near-breathless state of suspense. Because something bad is obviously going to happen—probably. So this book is also a mystery. Maybe it will win an Edgar award, too.

When You Reach Me reminds me a little of Markus Zusak's book for teens, I Am the Messenger, except that the ending of this one works better.

Is When You Reach Me science fiction? Fantasy? Magical realism? A coming of age story? Not so coincidentally, the same questions have been asked about A Wrinkle in Time. I was reshelving my own library by genre the other day and stood there for five minutes with L'Engle's book in my hand, trying to decide where it should go. I never really came up with a satisfactory answer. (Louis Sachar's Holes is a little like that, as well.)

There's something poetic about this book. Listen to sixth grader Miranda's voice, clear as the air on a mountaintop:

When we were too little for school, Sal and I went to day care together at a lady's apartment down the block. She had picked up some carpet samples at a store on Amsterdam Avenue and written the kids' names on the backs. After lunch, she'd pass out these carpet squares and we'd pick our spots on the living room floor for nap time. Sal and I always lined ours up to make a rectangle.

One time, when Sal had a fever and Louisa had called in sick to her job and kept him home, the day-care lady handed me my carpet square at nap time, and then, a second later, she gave me Sal's, too.

"I know how it is, baby," she said.

And then I lay on her floor not sleeping because Sal wasn't there to press his foot against mine.

So please, follow Miranda around and try to figure out why her best friend, Sal, is avoiding her. Check out the two-dollar bills, the V-cut, Alice's bathroom dance, and Julia's silver bracelet. Wonder for yourself why the homeless guy on the corner sleeps with his face under the mailbox, also whether Miranda's mom will win when she goes on Dick Clark's game show, The $20,000 Pyramid. It's 1978, sort of. And everything matters more than you think.

Note: Although When You Reach Me is listed on Amazon in one spot as being a YA book, it's listed elsewhere as being for ages 9-12. The publisher, Wendy Lamb (Random House), lists the book as suitable for readers ages 9-14. So I'll stick with my Newbery prediction rather than the Printz!