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Excerpted Inspirations #226

  • Writer: Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
    Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
  • 1 day ago
  • 0 min read
“… I cannot pretend that we are doing anything but sending you into the gravest kind of danger. I have to acknowledge quite openly that it may be a fatal danger. I know this. But I do not believe it. And the Happy Medium doesn’t believe it, either.” “Can’t she see what’s going to happen?” Calvin asked. “Can I explain it to you? Oh, I know. In your language you have a form of poetry called the sonnet.” “Yes, yes,” Calvin said impatiently. “What’s that got to do with the Happy Medium?” “Kindly pay me the courtesy of listening to me.” Mrs. Whatsit’s voice was stern, and for a moment Calvin stopped pawing the ground like a nervous colt. “It is a very strict form of poetry, is it not?” “Yes.” “There are fourteen lines, I believe, all in iambic pentameter. That’s a very strict rhythm or meter, yes?” “Yes.” Calvin nodded. “And each line has to end with a rigid rhyme pattern. And if the poet does not do it exactly this way, it is not a sonnet, is it?” “No.” “But within this strict form the poet has complete freedom to say whatever he wants, doesn’t he?” “Yes.” Calvin nodded again. “So,” Mrs. Whatsit said. “So what?” “Oh, do not be stupid, boy!” Mrs. Whatsit scolded. “You know perfectly well what I am driving at!” “You mean you’re comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form, but freedom within it?” “Yes,” Mrs. Whatsit said. “You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you.” Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time (1962), pp. 197-199

 
 
 

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