A quick book review.

79. A Winter’s Love by Madeleine L’Engle. Well, certainly not my favourite L’Engle I’ve ever read. But not entirely terrible and slightly redeemed by the ending, as I was hoping would be the case. Spoilers for this one may follow, so read further at your peril if that kind of thing will bother you. So. This was a book I saw mentioned in one of L’Engle’s memoirs (she mentioned writing it during a certain period of her life) and I had never heard of it so decided to pick it up. An adult novel, it’s one that feels both very real and also a bit surreal and dreamy at the same time. Like the best of L’Engle’s fiction, she interweaves the spiritual and the real together in such dreamy spirals and writes about characters that feel so real you believe they simply must exist in some reality somewhere. There is a solidity in her writing and yet also a floaty dreamlike sense to the whole thing as she attempts to understand the emotions inside us that we so often don’t understand ourselves. This story is a story grasping at what makes a person breathe and love and step forward once again, and as always, L’Engle’s prose is beautiful to behold, a masterpiece in and of itself. But the story. Ah well, the story is one of my least favourite kinds of stories, the kind that I winced at once I realised what would take up the bulk of this book. It’s the story of a woman (one Emily Bowen) who has lived many years with her husband and young children (Virginia and Connie and the ghost of wee sweet Alice) but now in a fraught time for their family, her heart pulls her in another direction and she begins to yearn after an old family friend who seems so much more solid and real and desirable than her husband. Oh joy. This is a real story though. And as L’Engle weaves in and around the lives of the various characters – as I mentioned, all of them seem so real in their own rights! – we begin to understand a bit of this moment that we have been dropped into and find ourselves seeing how the puzzle pieces of these people fit together. Gertrude and Kaarlo and Abe and Sam and Mimi and Virginia and Connie and Emily and Courtney and all the side characters (even Beanie who somehow L’Engle manages to humanize and make me wonder if I can forgive and understand him) bring this tale to life and I am frankly still awash in the emotions this one stirred up. I was even a bit amused to find a flashback sequence in which Courtney rages against Kempis’ Imitation of Christ, a book I just finished reading a bare few weeks ago!! While I wasn’t the hugest fan of it, I found myself amused to see that I disagreed with Courtney (and likely L’Engle) in the thrust of this one, and wondered if it’s partly the framework and perspective from which I sit. L’Engle has a bit more of a humanistic and individualistic outlook at times and of course this would clash against the humble servitude which Kempis preaches. Anyways! Just one of those happy little coincidences. That all being said? I was very prepared to loathe this book in its entirety, depending how it ended. I suppose I should have had faith in L’Engle though. The book does not end with Emily running to her lover, as much as she makes many decisions that made me wince and shake my head, even to the end. No, in the end, Emily chooses to stay true to her vows and oaths and press forward in her marriage to Courtney and her life with her family. A sigh of relief.

There is much in this book I haven’t talked about and many characters who I’ve barely mentioned in all their richness. But I’m grateful for L’Engle using her exquisite skill to bring forth themes that frankly sing in their brilliance and truth.