I don’t think I’ve ever read this series, and since I was fully obsessed with Madeleine L’Engle’s non-fiction last year, I figured it was time to give them a try.
This one was totally “meh.” I feel like it was all over the place, and could barely keep track of all the plot developments. And then there was the whole issue of Meg, this maybe-early-teenage girl, already having this We Are One And The Same He Understands Me Like No Other relationship with Calvin, her neighbor who, for no apparent reason, the family tree at the beginning of the book lets me know will eventually be her husband. I mean, maybe my adolescent self would have wanted to know, and they’re totally chaste and sweet in their Early Teenage Love, but in so many ways I feel like the characters in this book are taking on much more responsibility than they can handle.
Which is the moment that I realize I’ve totally become one of those Adults That Just Don’t Understand. Oy.