{"id":145026,"date":"2020-05-14T13:00:21","date_gmt":"2020-05-14T17:00:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=145026"},"modified":"2020-05-14T10:52:26","modified_gmt":"2020-05-14T14:52:26","slug":"inside-story-a-wrinkle-in-time","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/05\/14\/inside-story-a-wrinkle-in-time\/","title":{"rendered":"Inside Story: A Wrinkle in Time"},"content":{"rendered":"

In the column\u00a0Inside Story<\/a>, parents share the books they are reading with their children to get through these times.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

About fifteen years ago, when I was fresh out of college, I taught middle school, sixth and seventh grade English. It was a trip. I knew nothing about anything, let alone the thematic depth of The Red Badge of Courage<\/em> or all the things a noun can be (person, place, idea, emotion, name, et cetera). I spent my first year, as I imagine many novice teachers do, just trying not to drown. Mostly, I was terrified that my students would find out I barely knew what I was teaching them. I\u2019d stay up late the night before, read a few chapters ahead, and then put together a weekly assignment sheet that suggested an authority I did not have. The next day, we\u2019d go over their homework, and I\u2019d stand at the front of the class sweating through my blazer and praying my voice wouldn\u2019t break. Then I\u2019d preview the coming unit as if I really knew the future, feigning confidence, meaning to reassure them. I could see the path ahead absolutely, could see it all the way to its glorious end in June.<\/p>\n

When the lockdown began in Oregon, when it became clear that my five-year-old daughter would not be returning to school for the year, I thought back to those early teaching experiences. It seemed I was again in the same boat: unprepared, ill-equipped, drowning in my own ineptitude. My only option was to do as I had done before, to try as hard as possible. For a while, I really did. I made a schedule that transitioned her, every thirty minutes, from \u201ceducational\u201d iPad games, to some kind of art-making, to free play, to basic math, and so on. That lasted one week. My own work piled up (I\u2019m fortunate to be an instructor at a university, and my teaching, like everyone else\u2019s, has gone remote). I decided very quickly to scale back, to ask one thing of her a day. I decided we would try, for the first time, to read a chapter book together.<\/p>\n

We didn\u2019t choose Madeleine L\u2019Engle\u2019s A Wrinkle in Time<\/em> for any other reason than it was already in our house. A friend had gifted my daughter the complete series for Christmas. My daughter can sound out words fairly well. The struggle is, of course, with patience, with seeing a new and unfamiliar term and not allowing its length and phonetic combinations to overwhelm her. The work is slow, and I remember from teaching middle school that I must marshal my own patience before I can help with hers.<\/p>\n

Together, we attempt a chapter a day, often less. I ask her to read or sound out only four sentences during each session. If she does this, she earns a piece of sugarless gum as her prize, which she loves because she desperately wants to figure out how to blow bubbles. She can\u2019t always sit still while I read, so she wanders about the room, touching scattered stuffed animals, rearranging LEGO<\/small> sets, putting her model horses in a row and making them eat hay. I sometimes quiz her to see if she\u2019s following along. She always is. She recalls everything without effort, and it startles me, the dynamism of her memory:<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s Charles Wallace?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cMeg\u2019s little brother,\u201d she replies.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does Meg\u2019s mother do for a living?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s a scientist.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is their father?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s missing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rescuing the disappeared Mr. Murry is, ostensibly, the great aim of Meg and Charles Wallace in A Wrinkle in Time. <\/em>Yet it is not the most palpable conflict in the novel. In fact, the father is found rather easily. The children, along with their friend Calvin, are sent\u2014by the supernatural Mrs. What, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which\u2014to Camazotz, the planet on which he is being held hostage. And when the time comes, Meg has only to don Mrs. Who\u2019s glasses to see and reach her father, to pull him from the mysterious column in which he is imprisoned.<\/p>\n

The joy of his emancipation is short-lived. Mr. Murry doesn\u2019t realize that the villain of the story, IT<\/small>, has taken control of Charles Wallace. He doesn\u2019t understand how two of his children have traveled to this strange planet. He has no idea who the three Mmes. W\u2019s are. He fails to comprehend all that Meg tries to explain, so his confusion\u2014beautifully, dishearteningly\u2014echoes all the other instances in the novel when the characters struggle to communicate: Mr. Jenkins, the principal at the children\u2019s school, makes \u201csnide remarks about Father\u201d instead of empathizing with Meg. Charles Wallace and \u201cthe man with the red eyes\u201d spar with memorized language, with nursery rhymes and multiplication tables. Even the children\u2019s guides, the powerful Mmes. W\u2019s, \u201cfind it difficult to verbalize.\u201d Mrs. Who converses only in quotes from literature and Mrs. Which talks at a snail\u2019s pace. The great tragedy of A Wrinkle in Time <\/em>proves not to be the splintered family or even the Black Thing, but the difficulty of children and adults speaking to one another.<\/p>\n

While reading the novel with my daughter, I\u2019ve often wanted to cry out at the grown-ups, who are at times taciturn, at times simply inarticulate. But their struggle is my own as a parent, the seeming impossibility of explaining the world to my child. It seems fitting that the immortal Mmes. W\u2019s bring Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace to the Happy Medium, a woman in a mauve turban with a crystal ball. She will show them their father on Camazotz, their mother at home, the Black Thing, and one or two secrets of the universe. She will show because the Mmes. W\u2019s cannot tell.<\/p>\n

This is something I and my former partner, my daughter\u2019s mother, have been doing for the last year and a half. We separated at the end of 2018, and since then we have been, as mindfully as possible, trying to show our daughter how she will continue to love and be loved. We were fortunate to stay in the same city for the first months after the break, and this past year we managed to live only two hours apart, her mother in Portland, myself in Eugene. With daily check-ins on FaceTime and routine stays at both houses, we have shown her, I think, that our separation does not mean our disappearance.<\/p>\n

This fall we will not be so lucky. I\u2019ve taken a job in North Carolina, and her mother has accepted a position in California. It\u2019s a circumstance we\u2019ve been expecting, one we\u2019ve been planning for. But now that the future is set, now that the geography of our separation has crystallized, the coming relocation looms like the shadow Meg describes in the novel, \u201cdark and dreadful.\u201d The next year will be difficult. When she is with one of us, it might feel as though the other lives on a different planet. I will be sometimes the sun, sometimes the satellite.<\/p>\n

We have shown her, on Google Maps, where everyone is going. We have looked for houses together on Zillow. We have made lists of all the fun things to do in California, all the exciting places to visit in North Carolina. But I know the shadow is not just a shadow\u2014it is a Black Thing, which is to say, it requires its own language. I know this because last August, when we all first arrived in Oregon, my former partner and I could feel our daughter\u2019s sadness. Then she showed us an anger she could not explain, an anger she had no words for because we\u2019d not given her any. So, at last, we used the word: divorce<\/em>.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s hard, even now, to grasp how scared I was that the term for our personal calamity would itself prove calamitous. But as in L\u2019Engle\u2019s novel, the children are strongest when they use the language they\u2019ve been given. When first shown the Darkness, Meg wonders to herself, \u201cWas this meant to comfort them?\u201d Later, though, when she and her father confront IT<\/small>, he implores her to yell aloud the periodic table of elements. He screams, \u201cSay it!\u201d, and her words keep the shadow at bay. As our daughter said, over and over again, divorce<\/em>, a kind of calm followed. The Black Thing had an edge, a boundary, a border one could trace.<\/p>\n

This private disorder happens in the midst of a global one, and I\u2019m certain that many people, for good reasons, would love to borrow from the futuristic science of A Wrinkle in Time.<\/em> I imagine they would happily tesser<\/em>\u2014bend the universe\u2014in order to find themselves suddenly beyond the lockdowns, the virus, all the uncertainty. But I am in a strange place, numbed slightly to the chaos, my heart already concussed. I have already been, over the past year and a half, alone in a way I have not been for ten years. I have already been speaking to my child of how her world is changing, how it will continue to change. I have already struggled to put into words a thing that feels much larger than my own narrow experience.<\/p>\n

My daughter and I have three chapters left in A Wrinkle in Time. <\/em>I didn\u2019t read the quintet when I was young, so I don\u2019t know how it ends. The last line we read together was terrifying: \u201cShe was lost in an agony of pain that finally dissolved into the darkness of complete unconsciousness.\u201d But there are fifty pages still, and as I write this, she is with her mother, up in Portland for the week. I have a break in our time together. I can, if I want to, read ahead. I won\u2019t, though. I will wait, and I will sound out the words alongside my daughter. Together, we will find out what happens.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Derek<\/span>\u00a0Palacio<\/span>\u00a0is the author of the novella\u00a0<\/em>How to Shake the Other Man\u00a0and the novel\u00a0<\/em>The Mortifications.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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