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She has finally been Xed.
Every story brings the imagination and reality together in moments of what we might as well call faith. Stories give us a way to wonder how totalitarian states arise, or why cancer cells behave the way they do, or what causes people to live in the streets... and then come back again in a circle to the wonder of a song... or a supernova... or DNA. Wonder and wondering are closely related, and stories teach us that we cannot chose between them. If we try, we end up with the kind of amazement that is satisfied with the first explanation, or the kind of curiousity that is incapable of genuine surprise. Stories make the world more real, more rational, by bringing us closer to the irrational mystery at its centre. Why did my friend get sick and die? Why is there so much suffering in the world? Whose land is this we live on? How much is enough?
And where is home?
- If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?, by J. Edward Chamberlin
Madeleine L'Engle died.
\D:/
And where is home?
- If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?, by J. Edward Chamberlin
Madeleine L'Engle died.
\D:/
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As a less-intelligent and more maladjusted version of Charles Wallace, her writing made me feel as though I wasn't 'the only alien on the planet'.
Reposez en paix, Mez L'Engle.
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But damn, I love those books. So much.
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(Although A Swiftly Tilting Planet had weirdly racist/imperialist undertones.)
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I hope she's passed on to a good place for her.
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There will be starfish as well, of course. And penguins. AND dolphins. And other things... *resists the temptation to launch into Jack Sparrow's "consider the cuttlefish" speech from At World's End*