One of the first books that caught my attention as a child was A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engle. I would have to credit her with starting my life-long love of reading. In fact it was a movie made from her book that we were watching Thursday when I had my ill-fated encounter with mealworms.
I remember my 4th grade teacher reading Wrinkle out loud to the class. When we were finished with the book I was on fire to read more books like this. Of course, there were no books precisely like this, but there was more sci fi and fantasy and I devoured it endlessly, hoping to recapture the magic of that first book. I got hooked on the genre in spite of my quest remaining unfulfilled.
But all good things--and people--must end. Madeleine passed away Thursday and it was reported
on CNN Friday. Today there is an excellent article on Salon entitled
"L'Engle's Last Wrinkle." I know I should be grateful that Madeleine had a long and fruitful life. Yet I selfishly wish that she could go on and on, writing more and more literature for children that challenges adults.