I can’t point to any one book by Madeleine L’Engle as THE “Thunderclap” book for me.
Like C. S. Lewis, she is a Thunderclap author to me – not to the same degree as Lewis, but still, I am finding her increasingly significant as I grow older.
How to express the rising wave of inspiration this woman has become to me? I believe she would appreciate a scientific approach, so we shall organize by title:
The Rock that Is Higher
This spiritual/artistic autobiography shattered me in all the best ways. I felt like I was looking at myself in the mirror, thirty years further on – or, perhaps, that I was reading the diary I hope my older self would be able to write someday.
I blogged a bit last year – here and here, if you missed it – about the impact this book had on The Ancient, so I shan’t repeat myself o’ermuch. The important thing is how Madeleine L’Engle’s words affirmed my own passion for Story and confirmed my calling to be a Storyteller. Now, go read it yourself.
The Weather of the Heart
A surprise gift from my dear mama, this poetry collection was like long draughts of cold, clear water interspersed with sips of rich, dark, potent wine. Sometimes, encountering the work of a great artist in one’s own field can be discouraging – Woe is me, for I have been weighed in the balances and found wanting! – but, in this case, the opposite was true.
As with The Rock that Is Higher, I felt a kinship with Madeleine L’Engle’s poetic vision. She wrote poems for her friends’ birthdays and for the church calendar and for her husband and out of her own prayer journal. I recognized myself in all of this, and I felt both braced and empowered to continue writing poetry.
A Wrinkle in Time, etc.
I’ve read the first four books of this series – A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, Many Waters, A Swiftly Tilting Planet – numerous times, and I still don’t feel I have fully grasped the depth of what Madeleine L’Engle is saying. Much like Dorothy Sayers’s Gaudy Night, this is Literature with a capital L, with each rereading uncovering fresh nuances. The most relevant takeaway at present is her scientific approach to fantasy – or, rather, to fantasy battles.
These books contain suspenseful tales with epic showdowns between good and evil, but the weapons one normally finds in such tales are strangely absent. There are no swords, no armor, no magic wands. There is only the Word, and Story, and Love – the ontological power of Love made manifest, triumphing over Void and Fear and Pride and even Death.
I realized while preparing for this blog that I am following in Madeleine L’Engle’s footsteps more closely than I realized, for my fantasy battles (thus far) are similarly untraditional.
In The Ancient, my hero’s only weapon was the Word – the power of Storytelling. In my new novel, Brad has only the music he makes with his guitar to help him overcome the evil sickness attacking the Land.
(He’s annoyed about this, actually. He’s complained about it more than once, and even asked outright for a sword – or at least a really big stick. Maybe I’ll give him one in a later book, but for now . . . Music it is. Sorry-not-sorry, Bradford.)
I actually left Brad in a rather tight spot after a particularly tricky music battle yesterday, so I’d best hie myself back to the notebook and help him along, poor chap.
Thank you, Madeleine, for forging such a road into theology and poetry and story and leaving lanterns along the way.
See you soon, m’lady.
I love Madeline L’Engle!!
I must read this author!
Alas, I, too, have yet to read her. However, the time is near . . . I feel I am missing out on too much beauty.