Melody Murray's Books

My L'Engle reviews seem to have a theme: complaining noises followed by assertions why said complaints are meaningless in view of the whole, and a reference to love as the universal solvent. This book is no different. I'm unable to keep from rolling my eyes when Rob, age 7, pipes up with a malapropism followed with an erudite comment on the second movement of some obscure 12th century piece of music which he knows by heart. The plot here is so unrealistic it would be laughable in anyone else's hands. The scary laser? The tough, gun-toting 'hoods' with the third-grade name? The hysteria about what L'Engle insisted on calling "pot" and "acid" to further distance herself from them? The villains are one-dimensional. Wait for it... Yeah, not a bit of this matters. Honest. Just doesn't matter. The preachifying, the transparent manipulation? Just doesn't matter. Somehow, L'Engle transcends all of that, sucks you in, makes you believe, and holds your hand throughout. Her unvarying theme- love, love, love- makes the Austins real, makes Canon Tallis true, makes the Rabbi lovable, makes your heart pound at all the right places. It's a wonderful book. Put that in the pocket of your scorflam jacket and take it to the bank.