I cannot remember the last book that made me cry as much as Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L’Engle and I mean that as the highest form of praise.
Last month, Lisa posted a review of The Summer of the Great-Grandmother by Madeleine L’Engle, a book I had never heard of before. Like so many children, I grew up reading L’Engle’s children and young adult books but she was never one of my favourite authors. I liked A Wrinkle in Time, was bizarrely attached to Many Waters, and still keep my copies of A Ring of Endless Light and Troubling a Star on my bookshelf today but I never felt the urge as I did with other authors to find about more about L’Engle herself. So, until I read Lisa’s review, I had no idea that she had written quite a bit of non-fiction, mostly about faith, but also a set of four memoirs called the Crosswicks Journals, named after her family’s home in Connecticut.
Two-Part Invention is the last of the four journals, published in 1988 but focused on the events of 1986, when L’Engle’s husband of forty years, the actor Hugh Franklin, was dying of bladder cancer. Diagnosed in the spring and dead by the end of September, his illness was intense and very difficult to read about. I always struggle to read about illness but this was especially tough, perhaps because the indignity of it felt so cruel, with one ailment piling on top of another and then another as his body weakened. And, of course, it is made that much more painful since we are witness to L’Engle’s thoughts as she is forced to watch this happen to the man she adores.
The majority of the book is not about Franklin’s final illness but about his life with L’Engle: the subtitle of the book is “The Story of a Marriage”. L’Engle takes us back to her childhood in New York City and, later, in Europe, where the family moved in hopes of finding a climate better suited to her father’s lungs, damaged during the First World War. Later, there are her college years (now back in the States) and her early twenties in New York, where, after auditioning for Eva Le Gallienne, Margaret Webster and Joseph Schildkraut, she found herself hired as an understudy for a Broadway play. I loved reading about her years in the theatre, mostly because it is a world entirely foreign to me. She was never going to be a great actress – nor did she aspire to be – but she was an excellent observer and her stories about the other actors and their experiences on the road fascinated me. And it was in the theatre that she met Hugh and they began their courtship.
That background takes up only the first hundred pages or so and I loved it. Then, moving on to the next section, I was in for a bit of a shock as L’Engle’s started talking about religion and its role in her life. Since it had barely been mentioned at all until then, I wasn’t quite prepared but then I never am when religion makes an appearance in any book or conversation. It has never been part of my life, nor have I ever been close to anyone even vaguely religious. I find it fascinating to read books by intelligent, thoughtful believers, which L’Engle certainly was, but it can make for very strange reading. For example, I am always momentarily taken-aback when I come across people asking others for prayers or when someone says they have considered a problem “prayerfully” (as their doctor did regarding Franklin’s treatment). It is a lovely and tender sentiment but it is utterly foreign to me and it took some time to get used to the casual frequency with which prayer is mentioned.
But get used to it I did and, truly, I think this is one of the best perspectives on faith that I have ever read. Her faith played a major part in L’Engle’s life and it was interesting for me to see what comforted her and also how her experiences made her reflect on her relationship to God and with her religion. She is not pushy or preachy about her beliefs; this is simply her faith and it is what sustains her. I really don’t think she could have cared less about trying to convince any non-believers among her readers (which I, as an emphatic non-believer, appreciated). When she ponders questions of faith (as she does frequently), she does so for her benefit and understanding, not ours. It makes for a deeply personal book, especially since these reflections and so closely tied to her feelings about her husband’s illness and decline.
Really though, the focus is not on faith or death but on love, specifically the love that sustained L’Engle and Franklin through forty years of marriage. I grew up surrounded by wonderful examples of healthy, supportive long-term relationships and so the lessons L’Engle notes are ones I grew up hearing, especially “a long-term marriage has to move beyond chemistry to compatibility, to friendship, to companionship. It is certainly not that passion disappears, but that it is conjured with other ways of love.” That evolution wasn’t always easy but L’Engle recognizes that the difficult years played just as much of a role in cementing their marriage as the happy ones:
Our love has been anything but perfect and anything but static. Inevitably there have been times when one of us has outrun the other and has had to wait patiently for the other to catch up. There have been times when we have misunderstood each other, demanded too much of each other, been insensitive to the other’s needs. I do not believe there is any marriage where this does not happen. The growth of love is not a straight line, but a series of hills and valleys. I suspect that in every good marriage there are times when love seems to be over. Sometimes these desert lines are simply the only way to the next oasis, which is far more lush and beautiful after the desert crossing than it could possibly have been without.
Throughout the book, L’Engle embraces all that life has to offer, both the joys and the pains. I was struck by the warmth and love that filled her life, obviously in her marriage but also in the close bonds she maintained with her three children and grandchildren, and her many friends and godchildren. She and Franklin seem to have had a gift for loving and accepting others and there was a real sense of tenderness in all their relationships, both the long term ones and even the short term ones with Franklin’s dedicated team of nurses and doctors. I was left with a longing to belong to the Franklin/L’Engle circle of friends – it sounds like a wonderful group to be part of and their marriage, rock solid but always evolving, was at the heart of it.
Oh Claire, what a lovely review. I was looking at this on my TBR shelves today, thinking about what to read next – now I’m looking forward to it even more.
I was also marvelling at just the number of books listed under “Also by,” most of which I have never heard of or come across, including many of her juvenile books.
I think you will love this, Lisa. It is so thoughtful and so beautifully written.
Isn’t it extraordinary how many books she wrote? I can’t imagine being that prolific.
Very moving review. I read L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time and loved it. Powerful writing.
I am glad you enjoyed the review, Nicola. A Wrinkle in Time is rightly a classic but L’Engle’s writing for an adult audience is even more impressive.
Such a wonderful review, Claire. I’ve read A Wrinkle in Time and loved it, introducing it to my own girls later when they were old enough. When a friend recommended The Summer of the Great-Grandmother, I read it and wanted to learn more of Madeleine L’Engle’s personal journey. Sadly, life got in the way, as did other books, and I didn’t. Your review compels me to read the rest of the Crosswick Journals.
She did lecture on occasion for PBS. I heard her once or twice on Sunday afternoons. The characteristics you portray here came out as well in her words.
I am really looking forward to the other three Crosswick journals, Penny. This really is an extraordinary book and I’ve fallen back in love with L’Engle’s writing style. I hadn’t known about the PBS lectures before but how interesting they must be! I’ll see if I can track them down anywhere.
I love L’Engle’s memoirs, much more than I do her fantasy novels, which I never could quite become attached to. Like you, I found myself wanting to be part of their circle. They all sound like such wonderful people to know, not because L’Engle glosses over the negatives, but because they seem to accepting of people’s good and bad points.
It is that acceptance that is so attractive, isn’t it? And so, sadly, rare.
I read an earlier one of L’Engle’s journals (I somehow can’t think of the name of it!), and I thought her writing was very lovely, especially — as you say — on the subjects of her faith and her husband. I liked it that she approached both of them in such a mindful way, consciously trying very hard to do right by them.
Her attention or mindfulness to the things that mattered in her life was very impressive and I think it is something that so many people overlook. L’Engle put a lot of effort into the things and people that mattered most to her and, as a result, got the most back. It is a very good way to live.
I think this may be the only Crosswicks journal that I have not read. I have liked them, but always come away feeling sort of cranky. Having dealt with long-term debilitating illness among my family members – my dad’s 15 years of dementia looms large – The Summer of the Great Grandmother made me so mad I hurled it across the room. The grandmother needed moderate care for, like, THREE MONTHS. Not years and years and years, with the money running out and people being utterly exhausted and family bonds disintegrating! And L’Engle seemed so smug about the level of care they could provide; she seemed to have no idea how bad these situations can become.
Goodness, apparently I am still cranky! But I will give this one a try.
I’ve read a lot of her work, scouring second hand bookstores, on line bookstores etc. I have found that she is able to create an atmosphere that permeates long after I have finished reading; sometimes it is a loneliness, sometimes an other-worldness, but always some kind of lasting mood. I love her children’s fiction which I hesitate to confess….as well as her adult fiction. I don’t do sad but I am very tempted to read this last crosswicks journal. Thank you for an excellent review!
[…] “Crosswicks Journals”, focusing on her own life. I almost immediately read and adored Two-Part Invention, the fourth Crosswicks book, but The Summer of the Great-Grandmother remained on my To-Be-Read […]
[…] since I read Claire’s review of Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L’Engle (1988), I’ve been keen to read it. That was […]