Look who else is 50!
There are good reasons why I moved upstate from New York City. A really great job, for one. And I love it here. But there are times when you need the city. Like two Saturdays ago, when, for an hour or so, I was surrounded by people who all love the same book.
A few years ago, my friend Julie invited me to a modern-day-salon of like-minded women. The discussion leader suggested that we see ourselves as characters in our own story, then asked, "Have you ever recognized yourself in a book?" Most of us related way too well to characters in Stegner's novels "Angle of Repose" and "Crossing to Safety." Like I said, like-minded women.
Then someone (maybe me?) brought up "A Wrinkle in Time." We'd all read it. And we all agreed that it was the first time we'd seen ourselves in print. We were Meg. We were angry, and awkward, and often annoying, but more than anything, we loved deeply and fiercely.
Hopefully, in the forty years since I first read the book, I've lost the outwardly angry, awkward, annoying traits. But I'm still fiercely loyal. And I do love this book deeply.