"You're given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you."
- Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time
In the post "On Words " a couple of days ago, I quoted a passage from Through the Looking Glass. Sharkbytes and Lin commented on the power of kidlit when written as though children had intelligence. (This is not what they said, but I infer that that was at the root of their comments.) Vee's comment suggested that the power had impinged itself upon her cognizance to the extent that her memory bank contained some of Carroll's verses. All of which got me to reflecting on the children's literature which has made a lasting impression on me. Before I say something really stupid, let me clarify that much literature which may have been written with children in mind is not only apt for the child, but has layers of deeper meaning.
Well, this makes nothing more than good sense. For if one is to learn, s/he must be pushed beyond the limits of current knowledge, else nothing new is gained. Hence, we have that many children's books are a wealth of knowledge, information, conceptualizations which may indeed push many adults to new levels of understanding. But one has to read, and perhaps think, activities which seem to be too nearly lost to this day and age.
I've no intent to turn this into a diatribe. But if only young people, all people, would read!
So, back to the opening quote. I responded to the commenters that I have held certain books to be dear to me, and included among them is Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. It is a fantastic (word used in its true meaning) story, and a veritable mine of little nuggets of wisdom.
Breaking news and commentary.
Jean and Scott Adam, Phyllis Macay and Bob Riggle were all killed by Somali pirates.
It's too late to do what should have been done; and nothing can bring them back. But is it not about time to put an end to this sort of thing? Can we not deal with it? Do we lack the will to do so?