For all of you ladies out there looking for an anti-wrinkle cream, I’ve got something better: A Wrinkle in Time*.
A Wrinkle in Time is a “children’s book” in that it appeals to childhood curiosities. I read it for the first time at age twelve, and it opened my eyes to the possibilities of literature in sparking the imagination. Similar to Dr. Seuss books, A Wrinkle in Time describes various fantastical worlds with just enough detail. You get a feel for how the world might appear and then you fashion it in your mind’s eye. It’s a thrilling process that engages you personally as a reader.
Transforming written word into a visual medium can either validate or wreck the picture that you’ve constructed in your mind’s eye. Or somewhere in between.
I re-read A Wrinkle in Time last week in preparation for the movie, and I was flooded with images that my brain had retained from age twelve. I immediately recalled my own configurations of Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Watch (three of the novel’s main characters). Reconciling the film’s adaptations with my own visions was enjoyable at times, frustrating at others. I do not think the movie will mean as much if you haven’t read the book; nostalgia is a bitch.
At its core, A Wrinkle in Time follows an adventure that takes place as the good forces of the universe fight the evil forces. When good vs. evil is the predominant theme, there’s bound to be a cheesiness factor. That cheddar is easier to swallow in the book than it is in the movie, where the happy ending is summed up in a paragraph rather than a ten-minute-long hugging scene scored by bad music.
Oprah’s makeup in the movie is awesome, by the way.
The novel A Wrinkle in Time receives 3 out of 5 camel humps. If you read it as a child, you’ll appreciate the re-read. If you are a child at heart, you’ll appreciate the imaginative elements. If you’re a straight up adult, you suck.
*L’Engle, Madeleine. A Wrinkle in Time. New York: Crosswicks, Ltd., 1962. Print.