I plan to study and analyze the characteristics of four of Madeline L'Engle's books: A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, Many Waters, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet. I chose L'Engle because I love her writing in general. She writes amazingly fantastic stories about real people with real problems and presents a moral solution without throwing her own beliefs in the face of the reader.
The general plot of these four books specifically are pretty basic. They start out in fairly normal, everyday situations, like dealing with bullying or just being plain fed up with cold weather and day-to-day life. Then, something fantastical occurs and the characters are thrown into an apparently supernatural adventure with serious moral dilemmas. While they almost always include other-worldly beings, there is also a huge emphasis on science, particularly the unexplored and seemingly magical that has the potential to destroy individuals who don't know what they are doing. In the end, the characters learn more about themselves and each other and save the day. The characters are for the most part (but not exclusively) children and/or young adults. For example, the main characters of A Wrinkle in Time are Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace. Meg and Calvin are both in high school and Charles Wallace has not yet begun kindergarten. Meg and Charles Wallace's parents, however, are examples of adult characters, though their involvement in the plot is of less importance than the three previously mentioned characters.
Because of their fantastical nature, these books fall under the genre of fantasy. A fantasy is a fictional story that frequently uses magic and other supernatural events as an element of theme, plot, or setting. They take place in imaginary worldswhere magic is commonplace. On the other hand, it also includes a focus on imagined developments in science, presents worlds that are radically and intriguingly different from today's world, involves space travel (and by space travel I mean physical space, not "outer space"), and explore life in other worlds, making the books a work of sicence fiction as well. As it can be seen there is a very fine distinction between fantasy and science fiction unclear at best.
I would love to attempt to imitate L'Engle's use of the fantastic. She manages to take "magical" events or creatures seem natural by implying that they seem supernatural because we are simply not aware of them in our limited existence.
RIFF #2
Reading over the student surveys provided, I realized that there were some definite patterns. For one thing, the boys all loved sports and few of them enjoyed reading and/or writing. The handful who did generally preferred mystery books. The girls, on the other hand, tended to enjoy reading and/or writing much more, but even their appreciation for the written word was limited.
There was, however, one consistently common thread throughout their responses: texting. They all seemed to enjoy texting because they felt it connected them with their friends. This really surprised me. I guess I had assumed that since they were sixth graders they wouldn't have cell phones and consequently wouldn't text. Reading over their responses, I couldn't help but think back to when I was in sixth grade. Although a few of my classmates had cell phones, very few of us did and we certainly didn't text. But that was back in 2001/2002, so texting wasn't really an option. I then remembered that my 12-year-old sister-in-law, while she does not own a cell phone, loves to send text messages on her mom's phone. This tends to cause some confusion as she rarely indicates that she is the sender and not my mother-in-law.
The responses in these student surveys were both amusing and a bit discouraging. I personally was in love with reading by third grade. But then, it was also, in my case, a defense-mechanism to fend off loneliness. These kids all seem to have plenty of friends if their texting all the time. As for writing, I didn't really realize my aptitude for it until high school, so I can't really blame them for not enjoying it.
The texting phenomenon made me seriously consider whether or not I should include it in my story. After all, it would serve to connect to my current audience. But what happens when texting becomes obsolete? Will it simply serve to date my story? In a way, yes it would, but I'm not sure if that really matters to me. Many of L'Engle's novels were written and published during the 1970s. While they do have a sense of timelessness, a reader can't help but notice the distinct non-presence of the internet and cell phones. But who really cares about that when kids are traveling to other worlds and dimensions with only the use of their minds? I guess the conclusion I've come to is to write the story that needs to be written and not worry about technological fads. Texting may faze out in a few years, but once my story is a complete book and published for the world to read, it won't really matter.
Chapter 1
Had anyone been in the attic of the little blue cottage in the middle of the wood on a particularly dreary afternoon, he would have seen a tall, slender figure creep up the dusty old stairs. If such a person had taken any notice, a girl of about fifteen years in well-worn jeans and a blue t-shirt might have been seen. Had that same person happened to observe the girl closely, it may also have been noted that her golden hair was pulled back in ponytail, revealing a pretty face that was blotchy with puffy eyes, as though she had just had a good, long cry. The one thing that even the least observant person’s eyes would have instantly been drawn to, however, was the golden star hanging from a delicate chain around her neck.
But there was no one else in the attic, for which she was quite grateful. She preferred to be alone in the dusty attic, left to drown in her own misery. [NMG1] Although there were no lights in the dark room, she easily made her way through the many odds and ends of the past. She stopped at a large cardboard box and pushed it to the side. Her fingers deftly lifted up a loose floorboard and groped for a flashlight she had stored in there several weeks ago.
Carolyn Donerell loved coming up to the old attic and sifting through its contents, reading seemingly ancient journals and letters, looking at faded pictures[l2] . Not only was the past fascinating, it was her safe haven. No one ever went up there and it gave her the opportunity to get away from the struggles of everyday life and think in peace. Besides, the room had been a disaster before she had started to set things straight. Now, a week later, it actually resembled a place that someone might live in, but not quite. She still had a ways to go.
Carolyn had moved out to her grandmother’s old cottage with her mother and father about a month prior. Although moving in itself was nothing extraordinary, the nature of their departure had been mysterious and left Carolyn with more questions than answers. For one thing, their move to her grandmother’s cottage was the first indication she had that she even had a grandmother on her mom’s side. And she had never really been given a satisfactory reason as to why they had left their home in the city, only a vague excuse about her dad trying to find a job. This was, of course, ridiculous. He had had a fine, high-paying job with good hours. That was more than could be said of his current job. He was paid half as much, left early in the morning, and came home long after Carolyn had gone to bed. [NMG3]
As Carolyn resumed her self-assigned task, she thought about what had happened that morning. She had been fighting with her mom, again. She really did love her mom, but how much was one 15-year-old girl supposed to take? Carolyn knew that her mom had problems, that she had probably been traumatized or abused as a child. That would explain a lot of unanswered question in Carolyn’s life, like why she had never met a single member of her mom’s family, why there weren’t any pictures of her mom’s childhood, why she rarely spoke of her past. [l4] Carolyn tried to be understanding, but how could she when her mom seemed to continually push away all memories of her life before she was married? Carolyn thought longingly of the many nights they had spent curled by the cozy fireplace while her dad was still at work.
Marianne Donerell, for as long as Carolyn could remember, had always been intrigued by names and their meanings and had installed this interest in her daughter at a very young age.
“Names are important things,” Marianne had always told her daughter. “If given correctly, they can tell so much about a person.” Carolyn loved to hear the story of her own name and Marianne never seemed to tire of telling her. “Well, your father insisted that we name you ‘Carolyn’ after your great-grandmother,” Marianne would always start. “Carolyn means ‘little womanly one’.” At this she would shake her head. “It’s a fine name to be sure, but I knew from the start that it was not right for you. So I made sure that your middle name was ‘Audrey,’ which comes from Old English words meaning ‘noble’ and ‘strong.’” She would then pause and run her fingers through her daughter’s golden hair. “It fits you very well.”
Carolyn always listened attentively, but one evening, she decided to ask a question.
“What does your name mean, Mom?” Almost immediately, Marianne tensed up and Carolyn wished she hadn’t asked.
“Well,” Marianne started hesitantly, “‘Anne’ means ‘graceful,’” she said rather vaguely. “And my middle name, ‘Bellanca,’ means ‘blonde one.’” She forced a tight smile across her lips. “Rather inappropriate, don’t you think?” she asked, nervously running her fingers through her chestnut brown hair. For nearly ten minutes she stared silently into the fire, face drawn. Abruptly, she stood up and announced her intention to go to bed. Carolyn sat glumly on the couch for a while before she realized that her mom had neglected to mention what the first half of her name, “Mary,” meant.[NMG5]
~*~*~*~*~*~ As Carolyn continued to sort through the miscellaneous items of the attic, she stumbled across a well worn book. It was obviously old with its cracked leather cover and its aging yellow pages. There was nothing particularly interesting about the book itself. It seemed to be some old diary or something of the kind. What aroused Carolyn’s curiosity, however, was how out-of-place it seemed, almost as if someone had placed it in that exact spot for her to find. Without understanding why, she felt that there seemed to be something special about it, something important.
Carefully, Carolyn untied the faded blue ribbon that bound the covers together. It was a story, and not just any kind of story, but a fairy tale, the kind with princes and princesses and all of the wonderful things that form a grand adventure. In short, the kind of story Carolyn loved to read.
She gently opened the ancient book. It seemed to fall open to page thirty-three, as if it had been held open to that page from the day it was printed. On that page was a picture of two young ladies. From the golden circlets gracing their brows, it was apparent that they were princesses. [NMG6] The colors were slightly faded, but she could still clearly see the two lovely girls. On closer inspection, Carolyn gasped. They were each wearing a golden star about their necks identical to the necklace she wore! [NMG7] They were both tall and beautiful, just like any fairy tale princess should be. They were clearly sisters for they looked almost, but not quite, identical. The one with glossy, black hair seemed to be slightly older. She had a dark and mysterious air about her, as one who has seen much more than her years should have allowed. She was pale and had full crimson lips. In Carolyn’s opinion, she looked very much like the fabled Snow White, but perhaps slightly less flawless.
While she found the dark beauty fascinating, it was her sister that caught her attention. This girl seemed to be the essence of laughter itself, her eyes bright and alive with a girlish secret that she would not tell. Her long hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her straight back was just as golden as Carolyn’s. She was every bit as beautiful as her sister, though in a very different way. It was not her beauty, however, that made her stare. There was something vaguely familiar about her that she couldn’t place…
Oh well, she thought with a shrug. I couldn’t have possibly met a fictional princess, she thought with a laugh. A caption under their picture indicated that the young ladies were “Their Royal Highnesses, the Princesses Raven and Bellanca, Daughters of the Stars.” That’s an odd title, Carolyn mused. She frowned in concentration. Where had she heard the name Bellanca before?
Suddenly, she jumped in surprise, blinked her eyes, and shook her head. She must have been in the attic too long. She rubbed her eyes. Had she gotten dust in them again or were the batteries in her flashlight giving out? Either way, her eyes were starting to play tricks on her because she could have sworn that the picture had started to glow…but that, of course, was ridiculous. Carolyn glanced back down at the book. Was it her imagination, or were the Princesses Raven and Bellanca staring at her?[NMG8]
Calm down, she told herself. It’s just one of those pictures...
At that moment, the golden princess’s rosy lips widened into a grin and she winked mischievously. Carolyn’s first impulse would have been to scream, drop the book on the floor, and run down the attic stairs as quickly as her feet would carry here. But before Carolyn could respond, there was a sudden blinding flash of colors. Her hands were stuck to the book and she couldn’t let go, as if they had been fused together. She felt like she was being hurled right and left, as if on a relentless roller coaster that would not let her off. She felt herself falling, falling, falling…she tried to scream but couldn’t…
Then as suddenly as they had come, the colors flashed out of being and left her in darkness. [NMG9]
~*~*~*~*~*~ Carolyn slowly felt herself come into painful consciousness. Why was everything so dark? She tried to sit up but could not. Everything ached all over. She wanted to blink, wiggle a toe, anything that would prove that she was still alive. She finally gave up and tried to remember what had happened.
She had been looking at a picture…two princesses…the blonde one had winked at her…silly, of course…probably hit her head or something…
She slipped back into a delirious dream.
Princesses, princes…kings, queens…fairies without wings…an angry girl, screaming at her to…
“Wake up!”
Carolyn slowly opened her eyelids. They seemed much heavier than the last time she had used them.
“Well, it is about time!” the voice cried in indignation.
Carolyn’s vision slowly came into focus. Hovering over her and absolutely quivering with impatience, was the blonde princess. But that, of course, was absurd. That girl was fictional, pretend…wasn’t she? The princess scowled down at her.
“Well, it certainly took you long enough to blink, for the heavens’ sakes!” Despite her apparent rude manner, there was obvious concern in the girl’s blue eyes. “I do not know how I am supposed to show you anything if you insist on lying on the floor like that!” she squealed. “Oh, do sit up and at least pretend to be somewhat intelligent!” She seemed to be in a hurry to say this, but pronounced each word with rushed care as if each word was meaningless and yet vital all in on breathe.
Carolyn stared up at her in shock. She managed to lift herself up to her elbow and assess her surroundings. They were in small, stone room devoid of furnishings. On one end of the room a torch sputtered as if it were about to go out but continued to burn. On the other side of the room was a small square, glassless window. From where she lay, all she could see was the grey sky above. After struggling to sit up with the strange girl’s help, she ventured to ask, “Who are you?”
“Who am I?” she shrieked. “Why, you certainly looked at my sister and myself in that silly old book long enough, I am sure! Cannot you at least pretend to be half intelligent?” Carolyn was taken back in surprise. Of course she had figured out that she was one of the two princesses. She simply was not sure which one happened to be scolding her at the moment.
“What I mean,” she explained, “is are you Princess Raven or Princess Bellanca?”
The Princess’s face softened a bit. Then it resumed its frown. “Well of course I am Bellanca! Could you imagine a blonde Raven? It is simply ridiculous! Surely your mother taught you something about the meaning of names!”
“Mom?” Carolyn exclaimed in complete confusion. “What does she have to do with any of this?”
“Think,” Bellanca commanded. “Where have you heard my name before?” Carolyn concentrated on the name, sure that she had in fact heard it before that day. It suddenly came to her as if someone had just screamed in her ear the answer.
“Oh!” she simply said. Of course she knew the name Bellanca. It was her mom’s middle name! She had said it meant “blonde one,” or something of that sort. She had never really given it much thought. The name obviously couldn’t belong to Marianne, though. She had the rich, chestnut brown hair that Carolyn admired so much. She looked up and saw Princess Bellanca nodding at her.
“I see you are finally catching on,” she remarked. Carolyn could only nod through her constantly increasing confusion. “Now we can finally begin.”
Carolyn’s eyes widened at this, if possible, more confusing statement. Seeing the question in her eyes, Bellanca continued.
“I need your help,” she explained. “You see, I am a prisoner here.”
“Where?” asked Carolyn. Looking around, she realized for the first time that there were no doors in the walls and nowhere to conceal a secret passage. There was no way in or out. The princess sighed.
“In this Book!” she replied, eyeing the object in question with disgust as it lay innocently on the floor. “There is something you must see [l10] and only then will I be free from her.”
“Who?” Carolyn asked.
“The one responsible for my imprisonment, of course. The fool! Does she really think she can escape the inevitable and keep me hostage? No, she will have to face the past. I will have my freedom yet!”
“So, what exactly am I going to see?” Carolyn asked. A grim smile coursed its way across the princess’s lips.
“The beginning.” With those two words, Bellanca placed her hand on top of the other girl’s head and Carolyn once again slipped into unconsciousness.[NMG11] [NMG1]This reflects the common theme of loneliness and separation in young adult novels. It also reflects how many of Madeleine L’Engle’s novels begin with a young adult protagonist who is in some way discontent with his or her present circumstances. [l2]Her activity of choice, though unique to her, is nothing remarkable. She lives in a real world with real concerns and has no magical abilities to speak of. [NMG3]A suggestion of mystery is presented in a seemingly ordinary situation. Interest in mysteries was clearly expressed in the student surveys. The mysterious absence of a father figure was also prominent in A Wrinkle in Time. [l4]More elements of mystery. [NMG5]The tension builds as the mystery increases. [NMG6]Royalty, particularly princesses, are a common subject in fantasies. [NMG7]Slight clash in reality before things really get weird. The necklace, similar to Mrs. Who’s glasses in A Wrinkle in Time, will play a significant role later in the story. [NMG8]The first indication that this is a fantasy. Things started out fairly normal, but suddenly impossible things start to happen. [NMG9]An unforeseen magical event draws the protagonist into another world. This is another common element of fantasy. [l10]She’s about to set out on an incredible adventure, a staple in fantasy literature. [NMG11]Now the adventure really begins!
RIFF #1
I plan to study and analyze the characteristics of four of Madeline L'Engle's books: A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door, Many Waters, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet. I chose L'Engle because I love her writing in general. She writes amazingly fantastic stories about real people with real problems and presents a moral solution without throwing her own beliefs in the face of the reader.
The general plot of these four books specifically are pretty basic. They start out in fairly normal, everyday situations, like dealing with bullying or just being plain fed up with cold weather and day-to-day life. Then, something fantastical occurs and the characters are thrown into an apparently supernatural adventure with serious moral dilemmas. While they almost always include other-worldly beings, there is also a huge emphasis on science, particularly the unexplored and seemingly magical that has the potential to destroy individuals who don't know what they are doing. In the end, the characters learn more about themselves and each other and save the day. The characters are for the most part (but not exclusively) children and/or young adults. For example, the main characters of A Wrinkle in Time are Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace. Meg and Calvin are both in high school and Charles Wallace has not yet begun kindergarten. Meg and Charles Wallace's parents, however, are examples of adult characters, though their involvement in the plot is of less importance than the three previously mentioned characters.
Because of their fantastical nature, these books fall under the genre of fantasy. A fantasy is a fictional story that frequently uses magic and other supernatural events as an element of theme, plot, or setting. They take place in imaginary worldswhere magic is commonplace. On the other hand, it also includes a focus on imagined developments in science, presents worlds that are radically and intriguingly different from today's world, involves space travel (and by space travel I mean physical space, not "outer space"), and explore life in other worlds, making the books a work of sicence fiction as well. As it can be seen there is a very fine distinction between fantasy and science fiction unclear at best.
I would love to attempt to imitate L'Engle's use of the fantastic. She manages to take "magical" events or creatures seem natural by implying that they seem supernatural because we are simply not aware of them in our limited existence.
RIFF #2
Reading over the student surveys provided, I realized that there were some definite patterns. For one thing, the boys all loved sports and few of them enjoyed reading and/or writing. The handful who did generally preferred mystery books. The girls, on the other hand, tended to enjoy reading and/or writing much more, but even their appreciation for the written word was limited.
There was, however, one consistently common thread throughout their responses: texting. They all seemed to enjoy texting because they felt it connected them with their friends. This really surprised me. I guess I had assumed that since they were sixth graders they wouldn't have cell phones and consequently wouldn't text. Reading over their responses, I couldn't help but think back to when I was in sixth grade. Although a few of my classmates had cell phones, very few of us did and we certainly didn't text. But that was back in 2001/2002, so texting wasn't really an option. I then remembered that my 12-year-old sister-in-law, while she does not own a cell phone, loves to send text messages on her mom's phone. This tends to cause some confusion as she rarely indicates that she is the sender and not my mother-in-law.
The responses in these student surveys were both amusing and a bit discouraging. I personally was in love with reading by third grade. But then, it was also, in my case, a defense-mechanism to fend off loneliness. These kids all seem to have plenty of friends if their texting all the time. As for writing, I didn't really realize my aptitude for it until high school, so I can't really blame them for not enjoying it.
The texting phenomenon made me seriously consider whether or not I should include it in my story. After all, it would serve to connect to my current audience. But what happens when texting becomes obsolete? Will it simply serve to date my story? In a way, yes it would, but I'm not sure if that really matters to me. Many of L'Engle's novels were written and published during the 1970s. While they do have a sense of timelessness, a reader can't help but notice the distinct non-presence of the internet and cell phones. But who really cares about that when kids are traveling to other worlds and dimensions with only the use of their minds? I guess the conclusion I've come to is to write the story that needs to be written and not worry about technological fads. Texting may faze out in a few years, but once my story is a complete book and published for the world to read, it won't really matter.
Chapter 1
Had anyone been in the attic of the little blue cottage in the middle of the wood on a particularly dreary afternoon, he would have seen a tall, slender figure creep up the dusty old stairs. If such a person had taken any notice, a girl of about fifteen years in well-worn jeans and a blue t-shirt might have been seen. Had that same person happened to observe the girl closely, it may also have been noted that her golden hair was pulled back in ponytail, revealing a pretty face that was blotchy with puffy eyes, as though she had just had a good, long cry. The one thing that even the least observant person’s eyes would have instantly been drawn to, however, was the golden star hanging from a delicate chain around her neck.
But there was no one else in the attic, for which she was quite grateful. She preferred to be alone in the dusty attic, left to drown in her own misery. [NMG1] Although there were no lights in the dark room, she easily made her way through the many odds and ends of the past. She stopped at a large cardboard box and pushed it to the side. Her fingers deftly lifted up a loose floorboard and groped for a flashlight she had stored in there several weeks ago.
Carolyn Donerell loved coming up to the old attic and sifting through its contents, reading seemingly ancient journals and letters, looking at faded pictures[l2] . Not only was the past fascinating, it was her safe haven. No one ever went up there and it gave her the opportunity to get away from the struggles of everyday life and think in peace. Besides, the room had been a disaster before she had started to set things straight. Now, a week later, it actually resembled a place that someone might live in, but not quite. She still had a ways to go.
Carolyn had moved out to her grandmother’s old cottage with her mother and father about a month prior. Although moving in itself was nothing extraordinary, the nature of their departure had been mysterious and left Carolyn with more questions than answers. For one thing, their move to her grandmother’s cottage was the first indication she had that she even had a grandmother on her mom’s side. And she had never really been given a satisfactory reason as to why they had left their home in the city, only a vague excuse about her dad trying to find a job. This was, of course, ridiculous. He had had a fine, high-paying job with good hours. That was more than could be said of his current job. He was paid half as much, left early in the morning, and came home long after Carolyn had gone to bed. [NMG3]
As Carolyn resumed her self-assigned task, she thought about what had happened that morning. She had been fighting with her mom, again. She really did love her mom, but how much was one 15-year-old girl supposed to take? Carolyn knew that her mom had problems, that she had probably been traumatized or abused as a child. That would explain a lot of unanswered question in Carolyn’s life, like why she had never met a single member of her mom’s family, why there weren’t any pictures of her mom’s childhood, why she rarely spoke of her past. [l4] Carolyn tried to be understanding, but how could she when her mom seemed to continually push away all memories of her life before she was married? Carolyn thought longingly of the many nights they had spent curled by the cozy fireplace while her dad was still at work.
Marianne Donerell, for as long as Carolyn could remember, had always been intrigued by names and their meanings and had installed this interest in her daughter at a very young age.
“Names are important things,” Marianne had always told her daughter. “If given correctly, they can tell so much about a person.” Carolyn loved to hear the story of her own name and Marianne never seemed to tire of telling her. “Well, your father insisted that we name you ‘Carolyn’ after your great-grandmother,” Marianne would always start. “Carolyn means ‘little womanly one’.” At this she would shake her head. “It’s a fine name to be sure, but I knew from the start that it was not right for you. So I made sure that your middle name was ‘Audrey,’ which comes from Old English words meaning ‘noble’ and ‘strong.’” She would then pause and run her fingers through her daughter’s golden hair. “It fits you very well.”
Carolyn always listened attentively, but one evening, she decided to ask a question.
“What does your name mean, Mom?” Almost immediately, Marianne tensed up and Carolyn wished she hadn’t asked.
“Well,” Marianne started hesitantly, “‘Anne’ means ‘graceful,’” she said rather vaguely. “And my middle name, ‘Bellanca,’ means ‘blonde one.’” She forced a tight smile across her lips. “Rather inappropriate, don’t you think?” she asked, nervously running her fingers through her chestnut brown hair. For nearly ten minutes she stared silently into the fire, face drawn. Abruptly, she stood up and announced her intention to go to bed. Carolyn sat glumly on the couch for a while before she realized that her mom had neglected to mention what the first half of her name, “Mary,” meant.[NMG5]
~*~*~*~*~*~
As Carolyn continued to sort through the miscellaneous items of the attic, she stumbled across a well worn book. It was obviously old with its cracked leather cover and its aging yellow pages. There was nothing particularly interesting about the book itself. It seemed to be some old diary or something of the kind. What aroused Carolyn’s curiosity, however, was how out-of-place it seemed, almost as if someone had placed it in that exact spot for her to find. Without understanding why, she felt that there seemed to be something special about it, something important.
Carefully, Carolyn untied the faded blue ribbon that bound the covers together. It was a story, and not just any kind of story, but a fairy tale, the kind with princes and princesses and all of the wonderful things that form a grand adventure. In short, the kind of story Carolyn loved to read.
She gently opened the ancient book. It seemed to fall open to page thirty-three, as if it had been held open to that page from the day it was printed. On that page was a picture of two young ladies. From the golden circlets gracing their brows, it was apparent that they were princesses. [NMG6] The colors were slightly faded, but she could still clearly see the two lovely girls. On closer inspection, Carolyn gasped. They were each wearing a golden star about their necks identical to the necklace she wore! [NMG7] They were both tall and beautiful, just like any fairy tale princess should be. They were clearly sisters for they looked almost, but not quite, identical.
The one with glossy, black hair seemed to be slightly older. She had a dark and mysterious air about her, as one who has seen much more than her years should have allowed. She was pale and had full crimson lips. In Carolyn’s opinion, she looked very much like the fabled Snow White, but perhaps slightly less flawless.
While she found the dark beauty fascinating, it was her sister that caught her attention. This girl seemed to be the essence of laughter itself, her eyes bright and alive with a girlish secret that she would not tell. Her long hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her straight back was just as golden as Carolyn’s. She was every bit as beautiful as her sister, though in a very different way. It was not her beauty, however, that made her stare. There was something vaguely familiar about her that she couldn’t place…
Oh well, she thought with a shrug. I couldn’t have possibly met a fictional princess, she thought with a laugh.
A caption under their picture indicated that the young ladies were “Their Royal Highnesses, the Princesses Raven and Bellanca, Daughters of the Stars.” That’s an odd title, Carolyn mused. She frowned in concentration. Where had she heard the name Bellanca before?
Suddenly, she jumped in surprise, blinked her eyes, and shook her head. She must have been in the attic too long. She rubbed her eyes. Had she gotten dust in them again or were the batteries in her flashlight giving out? Either way, her eyes were starting to play tricks on her because she could have sworn that the picture had started to glow…but that, of course, was ridiculous. Carolyn glanced back down at the book. Was it her imagination, or were the Princesses Raven and Bellanca staring at her?[NMG8]
Calm down, she told herself. It’s just one of those pictures...
At that moment, the golden princess’s rosy lips widened into a grin and she winked mischievously. Carolyn’s first impulse would have been to scream, drop the book on the floor, and run down the attic stairs as quickly as her feet would carry here. But before Carolyn could respond, there was a sudden blinding flash of colors. Her hands were stuck to the book and she couldn’t let go, as if they had been fused together. She felt like she was being hurled right and left, as if on a relentless roller coaster that would not let her off. She felt herself falling, falling, falling…she tried to scream but couldn’t…
Then as suddenly as they had come, the colors flashed out of being and left her in darkness. [NMG9]
~*~*~*~*~*~
Carolyn slowly felt herself come into painful consciousness. Why was everything so dark? She tried to sit up but could not. Everything ached all over. She wanted to blink, wiggle a toe, anything that would prove that she was still alive. She finally gave up and tried to remember what had happened.
She had been looking at a picture…two princesses…the blonde one had winked at her…silly, of course…probably hit her head or something…
She slipped back into a delirious dream.
Princesses, princes…kings, queens…fairies without wings…an angry girl, screaming at her to…
“Wake up!”
Carolyn slowly opened her eyelids. They seemed much heavier than the last time she had used them.
“Well, it is about time!” the voice cried in indignation.
Carolyn’s vision slowly came into focus. Hovering over her and absolutely quivering with impatience, was the blonde princess. But that, of course, was absurd. That girl was fictional, pretend…wasn’t she? The princess scowled down at her.
“Well, it certainly took you long enough to blink, for the heavens’ sakes!” Despite her apparent rude manner, there was obvious concern in the girl’s blue eyes. “I do not know how I am supposed to show you anything if you insist on lying on the floor like that!” she squealed. “Oh, do sit up and at least pretend to be somewhat intelligent!” She seemed to be in a hurry to say this, but pronounced each word with rushed care as if each word was meaningless and yet vital all in on breathe.
Carolyn stared up at her in shock. She managed to lift herself up to her elbow and assess her surroundings. They were in small, stone room devoid of furnishings. On one end of the room a torch sputtered as if it were about to go out but continued to burn. On the other side of the room was a small square, glassless window. From where she lay, all she could see was the grey sky above. After struggling to sit up with the strange girl’s help, she ventured to ask, “Who are you?”
“Who am I?” she shrieked. “Why, you certainly looked at my sister and myself in that silly old book long enough, I am sure! Cannot you at least pretend to be half intelligent?” Carolyn was taken back in surprise. Of course she had figured out that she was one of the two princesses. She simply was not sure which one happened to be scolding her at the moment.
“What I mean,” she explained, “is are you Princess Raven or Princess Bellanca?”
The Princess’s face softened a bit. Then it resumed its frown. “Well of course I am Bellanca! Could you imagine a blonde Raven? It is simply ridiculous! Surely your mother taught you something about the meaning of names!”
“Mom?” Carolyn exclaimed in complete confusion. “What does she have to do with any of this?”
“Think,” Bellanca commanded. “Where have you heard my name before?” Carolyn concentrated on the name, sure that she had in fact heard it before that day. It suddenly came to her as if someone had just screamed in her ear the answer.
“Oh!” she simply said. Of course she knew the name Bellanca. It was her mom’s middle name! She had said it meant “blonde one,” or something of that sort. She had never really given it much thought. The name obviously couldn’t belong to Marianne, though. She had the rich, chestnut brown hair that Carolyn admired so much. She looked up and saw Princess Bellanca nodding at her.
“I see you are finally catching on,” she remarked. Carolyn could only nod through her constantly increasing confusion. “Now we can finally begin.”
Carolyn’s eyes widened at this, if possible, more confusing statement. Seeing the question in her eyes, Bellanca continued.
“I need your help,” she explained. “You see, I am a prisoner here.”
“Where?” asked Carolyn. Looking around, she realized for the first time that there were no doors in the walls and nowhere to conceal a secret passage. There was no way in or out. The princess sighed.
“In this Book!” she replied, eyeing the object in question with disgust as it lay innocently on the floor. “There is something you must see [l10] and only then will I be free from her.”
“Who?” Carolyn asked.
“The one responsible for my imprisonment, of course. The fool! Does she really think she can escape the inevitable and keep me hostage? No, she will have to face the past. I will have my freedom yet!”
“So, what exactly am I going to see?” Carolyn asked. A grim smile coursed its way across the princess’s lips.
“The beginning.” With those two words, Bellanca placed her hand on top of the other girl’s head and Carolyn once again slipped into unconsciousness.[NMG11]
[NMG1]This reflects the common theme of loneliness and separation in young adult novels. It also reflects how many of Madeleine L’Engle’s novels begin with a young adult protagonist who is in some way discontent with his or her present circumstances.
[l2]Her activity of choice, though unique to her, is nothing remarkable. She lives in a real world with real concerns and has no magical abilities to speak of.
[NMG3]A suggestion of mystery is presented in a seemingly ordinary situation. Interest in mysteries was clearly expressed in the student surveys. The mysterious absence of a father figure was also prominent in A Wrinkle in Time.
[l4]More elements of mystery.
[NMG5]The tension builds as the mystery increases.
[NMG6]Royalty, particularly princesses, are a common subject in fantasies.
[NMG7]Slight clash in reality before things really get weird. The necklace, similar to Mrs. Who’s glasses in A Wrinkle in Time, will play a significant role later in the story.
[NMG8]The first indication that this is a fantasy. Things started out fairly normal, but suddenly impossible things start to happen.
[NMG9]An unforeseen magical event draws the protagonist into another world. This is another common element of fantasy.
[l10]She’s about to set out on an incredible adventure, a staple in fantasy literature.
[NMG11]Now the adventure really begins!