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Crosswicks Journals #1-3 omnibus
The Crosswicks Journals: A Circle of Quiet, The Summer of the Great-Grandmother, The Irrational Season, and Two-Part Invention
The New York Times–bestselling author of A Wrinkle in Time takes an introspective look at her life and muses on creativity in these four memoirs. Set against the lush backdrop of Crosswicks, Madeleine L’Engle’s family farmhouse in rural Connecticut, this series of memoirs reveals the complexity behind the beloved author whose works have long been cherished by children and adults alike. A Circle of In a deeply personal account, L’Engle shares her journey to find balance between her career as an author and her responsibilities as a wife, mother, teacher, and Christian. The Summer of the Four generations of family have gathered at Crosswicks to care for L’Engle’s ninety-year-old mother, whose health is rapidly declining and whose once astute mind is slipping into senility. L’Engle takes an unflinching look at diminishment and death, all the while celebrating the wonder of life and the bonds between mothers and daughters. The Irrational Exploring the intersection of science and religion, L’Engle uncovers how her spiritual convictions inform and enrich the everyday. The memoir follows the liturgical year from one Advent to the next, with L’Engle’s reflections on the changing seasons in her own life as a writer, wife, mother, and global citizen. Two-Part L’Engle beautifully evokes the life she and her husband, actor Hugh Franklin, built and the family they cherished. Beginning with their very different childhoods, their life in New York City in the 1940s, and their years spent raising their children at Crosswicks, this is L’Engle’s most personal work yet. Offering a new perspective into her writing and life and how the two inform each other, the National Book Award–winning author explores the meanings behind motherhood, marriage, and faith.
967 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1988
531 people are currently reading
1213 people want to read
About the author
Madeleine L'Engle
171 books9,207 followersMadeleine L'Engle was an American writer of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and young adult fiction, including A Wrinkle in Time and its sequels: A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Many Waters, and An Acceptable Time. Her works reflect both her Christian faith and her strong interest in modern science.
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Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews
February 10, 2018
In my opinion, the best description of marriage came from The Irrational Season by Madeleine L'Engle. HANDS DOWN.
"But ultimately there comes a moment when a decision must be made. Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they are willing to take...It is indeed a fearful gamble...Because it is the nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something which has to be created, so that, together we become a new creature.
To marry is the biggest risk in human relations that a person can take...if we commit ourselves to one person for life this is not, as many people think, a rejection of freedom; rather it demands the courage to move into all the risks of freedom, and the risk of love which is permanent; into that love which is not possession but participation...It takes a lifetime to learn another person...When love is not a possession, but participation, then it is part of that co-creation which is our human calling, and which implies such risk that it is often rejected."
"But ultimately there comes a moment when a decision must be made. Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they are willing to take...It is indeed a fearful gamble...Because it is the nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something which has to be created, so that, together we become a new creature.
To marry is the biggest risk in human relations that a person can take...if we commit ourselves to one person for life this is not, as many people think, a rejection of freedom; rather it demands the courage to move into all the risks of freedom, and the risk of love which is permanent; into that love which is not possession but participation...It takes a lifetime to learn another person...When love is not a possession, but participation, then it is part of that co-creation which is our human calling, and which implies such risk that it is often rejected."
May 9, 2009
Absolutely great books. Only reason these aren't on my classics shelf is that there is a time frame for stability and lasting. Read these in a low period of my life, they really helped.
December 15, 2018
It is so amazing to me how this book that was published in 1972 is so relevant to me today. Madeleine's thoughts on personhood, children & God speak to me during these middle years of my life with such power and authenticity.
December 10, 2019
Book 2, The Summer of the Great-Grandmother is about the last summer her mother visited their family home in Crosswicks and her death before the end of that summer. It is about her mother's decline, her senility, and the history and remembrances of her mother’s side of the family. I read this book in the week after my mother visited me in 1997. I read it quickly, I tend to read quickly, as a child I always escaped from my mother by reading.
Here are some quotes: (written in 1974)
“You know what, Mother, lots of people, ages varying from fifteenish to seventyish, talk to me about the books they could write, if only. . . The reason they don’t ever get around to writing the books is usually, in the young, that they have to wait for inspiration, and you know perfectly well that if an artist of any kind sits around waiting for inspiration he’ll have a very small body of work. Inspiration usually comes during work, rather than before it. With people around my age the excuse is usually that they don’t have the time, and you know perfectly well that if a writer waited until there was time, nothing would ever get written.”
“Perfectionism is imprisoning. As long as I demand it, in myself or anyone else, I am not free, and all my life - fifty-two this summer - I’ve believed that freedom is important, that, despite all our misuse and abuse of it, freedom is what makes us a little lower than angles, crowned with glory and honor, according to the psalmist; how like a god, according to Shakespeare; freedom to remember, to share, to dream, to accept irrationality and paradox is what makes us human animals.
Where is my freedom this summer? I can go no farther than from the house than I can walk, because chancy vision no longer allows me to drive. The responsibility of my mother, of the large household, of the kitchen stove, would seem to deny me a great deal of freedom, and yet my freedom is still up to me. Because I have entered willingly into this time, I do not feel that my freedom has been taken away.
But there are times in life when human freedom is denied us, and not only in prisons and concentration camps. I was once in an extremity of pain and knew that I was close to death. I was fighting hard to live, for my husband, our small children, for myself and all that I still wanted to do and be, for all the books I hoped to write. And then I knew that unless the pain was relieved I was not alive, that death was better than the body continuing in this kind of impossible pain which had me in its brutal control. When they took me to the operating room I barely had strength to move my lips, “I love you,” to Hugh (her husband). As for prayer, I could do no more than say, “Please,” over and over, “please,” to the doctors, to Hugh, to God. . .
My freedom was entirely out of my hands.
Once I heard a “good” woman ask if the victims of concentration camps did not find consolation in prayer, and I was shocked by the question. It was directed to me, and I answered, fumblingly, that they were probably in that dark realm which is beyond the comfort of conscious prayer, and I likened it to extreme physical pain. There have been times when I have given way to the heart’s pain, too, and again have been outside of freedom. We can be un-made, un-personed, all freedom taken away. That we do this to each other is one of the great shames of our civilization. It is not people, but atherosclerosis, which is taking freedom away from my mother.”
“Her loss of memory is the loss of her self, her uniqueness, and this frightens me, for myself, as well as for her. Memory is probably my most essential tool as a storyteller, and the creative use of memory takes structure, enormous, disciplined structure, in a world where structure is unfashionable. Like the Red King, I’m apt to remember inaccurately what I don’t write down in a journal or notebook. “The horror of the moment,” the king went on, “I shall never, never forget.” “You will, though,” the queen said, “if you don’t make a memorandum of it.”
“But my creative energy is being drained. When I was pregnant with Josephine, a friend who was a successful dancer and the mother of several children told me that a woman cannot be creative in two ways simultaneously, and that I would not be able to write while I was carrying the baby. Obviously she could not do a tour jete when she was five months pregnant, but I saw no reason not to go on writing, and write I did. The odd thing is that nothing I wrote during my pregnancies ever came, itself, to term. It was like practicing finger exercises, absolutely essential fro the playing of the fugue, but it did not lead to the fugue till after the baby was born. I do not understand this, but I do not think it coincidence.
In a reverse way, sharing my mother’s long, slow dying consumes my creative energy. I manage one angry and bitter story, and feel better for it, but most of me is involved in Mother’s battle. Watching her slowly being snuffed out is the opposite of pregnancy, depleting instead of fulfilling; I am exhausted by conflict.”
Here are some quotes: (written in 1974)
“You know what, Mother, lots of people, ages varying from fifteenish to seventyish, talk to me about the books they could write, if only. . . The reason they don’t ever get around to writing the books is usually, in the young, that they have to wait for inspiration, and you know perfectly well that if an artist of any kind sits around waiting for inspiration he’ll have a very small body of work. Inspiration usually comes during work, rather than before it. With people around my age the excuse is usually that they don’t have the time, and you know perfectly well that if a writer waited until there was time, nothing would ever get written.”
“Perfectionism is imprisoning. As long as I demand it, in myself or anyone else, I am not free, and all my life - fifty-two this summer - I’ve believed that freedom is important, that, despite all our misuse and abuse of it, freedom is what makes us a little lower than angles, crowned with glory and honor, according to the psalmist; how like a god, according to Shakespeare; freedom to remember, to share, to dream, to accept irrationality and paradox is what makes us human animals.
Where is my freedom this summer? I can go no farther than from the house than I can walk, because chancy vision no longer allows me to drive. The responsibility of my mother, of the large household, of the kitchen stove, would seem to deny me a great deal of freedom, and yet my freedom is still up to me. Because I have entered willingly into this time, I do not feel that my freedom has been taken away.
But there are times in life when human freedom is denied us, and not only in prisons and concentration camps. I was once in an extremity of pain and knew that I was close to death. I was fighting hard to live, for my husband, our small children, for myself and all that I still wanted to do and be, for all the books I hoped to write. And then I knew that unless the pain was relieved I was not alive, that death was better than the body continuing in this kind of impossible pain which had me in its brutal control. When they took me to the operating room I barely had strength to move my lips, “I love you,” to Hugh (her husband). As for prayer, I could do no more than say, “Please,” over and over, “please,” to the doctors, to Hugh, to God. . .
My freedom was entirely out of my hands.
Once I heard a “good” woman ask if the victims of concentration camps did not find consolation in prayer, and I was shocked by the question. It was directed to me, and I answered, fumblingly, that they were probably in that dark realm which is beyond the comfort of conscious prayer, and I likened it to extreme physical pain. There have been times when I have given way to the heart’s pain, too, and again have been outside of freedom. We can be un-made, un-personed, all freedom taken away. That we do this to each other is one of the great shames of our civilization. It is not people, but atherosclerosis, which is taking freedom away from my mother.”
“Her loss of memory is the loss of her self, her uniqueness, and this frightens me, for myself, as well as for her. Memory is probably my most essential tool as a storyteller, and the creative use of memory takes structure, enormous, disciplined structure, in a world where structure is unfashionable. Like the Red King, I’m apt to remember inaccurately what I don’t write down in a journal or notebook. “The horror of the moment,” the king went on, “I shall never, never forget.” “You will, though,” the queen said, “if you don’t make a memorandum of it.”
“But my creative energy is being drained. When I was pregnant with Josephine, a friend who was a successful dancer and the mother of several children told me that a woman cannot be creative in two ways simultaneously, and that I would not be able to write while I was carrying the baby. Obviously she could not do a tour jete when she was five months pregnant, but I saw no reason not to go on writing, and write I did. The odd thing is that nothing I wrote during my pregnancies ever came, itself, to term. It was like practicing finger exercises, absolutely essential fro the playing of the fugue, but it did not lead to the fugue till after the baby was born. I do not understand this, but I do not think it coincidence.
In a reverse way, sharing my mother’s long, slow dying consumes my creative energy. I manage one angry and bitter story, and feel better for it, but most of me is involved in Mother’s battle. Watching her slowly being snuffed out is the opposite of pregnancy, depleting instead of fulfilling; I am exhausted by conflict.”
March 4, 2012
Each book hit me differently.
For now, i most enjoyed the third book, with thoughts on faith, the liturgical year and life.
i could highlight pages upon pages of different topics and themes that i love.
For now, i most enjoyed the third book, with thoughts on faith, the liturgical year and life.
i could highlight pages upon pages of different topics and themes that i love.
August 1, 2010
Wonderful reflections on spirituality and the joys and troubles of living.
August 10, 2016
Read the first one and enjoyed it.
January 29, 2019
I loved the honesty, warmth, intelligence and richness in these books. Madeleine L'Engle's journals have a great balance between reality, story, theology and philosophy that kept me interested in all 4 of them, even though I usually prefer to read fiction. The first is mainly centered on her personal journey as an author and a mother, the second focuses on her own mother's life and death, the third on her faith, and the fourth on her marriage and her husband. There were many fascinating true stories about her friends and family which I loved reading about. The depth of her faith really shines through, and her theology, although non-typical of her time, is spot on and really echoed and enriched my own understanding of God. Her commitment to art and beauty and honouring your creative talents is a strong theme,but her love of those closest to her and the value she places on close relationships is probably the strongest common thread throughout these journals, and is a great reminder and encouragement. Definitely worth reading!
August 23, 2019
Loved it
This was a fascinating read. I learned so much about the author, her personal life story, family, husband and spirituality. It was quite the awakening. It changed my perspective on life and it's meaning. It got me to thinking. And definitely expanded my vocabulary. She always challenges her readers which is a good thing. Now I want to read everything she ever wrote.
The reading started because I adopted a Samoyed puppy and the theme was A Wrinkle in Time. I then read the series of five books.The dogs are all called Double Helix which is referred to in this set of stories. I was expected to stay with the theme. So I did. My girl is Truth is Eternal. I love the writings of Madeleine L' Engle.
This was a fascinating read. I learned so much about the author, her personal life story, family, husband and spirituality. It was quite the awakening. It changed my perspective on life and it's meaning. It got me to thinking. And definitely expanded my vocabulary. She always challenges her readers which is a good thing. Now I want to read everything she ever wrote.
The reading started because I adopted a Samoyed puppy and the theme was A Wrinkle in Time. I then read the series of five books.The dogs are all called Double Helix which is referred to in this set of stories. I was expected to stay with the theme. So I did. My girl is Truth is Eternal. I love the writings of Madeleine L' Engle.
February 16, 2019
I thoroughly enjoyed this series of memoirs by Madeleine L'Engle, written from the heart of the family farm, Crosswicks (named after her father's childhood abode). I particularly enjoyed reading about her family history. The final book, which detailed her courtship and marriage with Hugh Franklin, was deeply affecting. It moved me to tears and deepened my sense of commitment in my own marriage. I love books that change me for the better.
I wasn't completely in sync with L'Engle's theology, but I do "get" her aesthetic when it comes to issues of faith. She was, after all, not a theologian but an artist. I highlighted quite a bit on this one (it was a Kindle read) and intend to go back and record my very favorite quotes in the commonplace journal.
I wasn't completely in sync with L'Engle's theology, but I do "get" her aesthetic when it comes to issues of faith. She was, after all, not a theologian but an artist. I highlighted quite a bit on this one (it was a Kindle read) and intend to go back and record my very favorite quotes in the commonplace journal.
August 7, 2020
I read The Summer of the Great-Grandmother only. I will get to the others eventually The Summer was a very touching read as L'Engle loved the woman her mother was and tried to remember that as she lived with increasing dementia and frailty and paranoia. May we be spared that kind of ending to our lives!
June 17, 2023
These journals offer glimpses of L'Engle's life behind the scenes of her fiction. They reveal a thoughtful woman I would like to have had as a friend. In some sense, of course, she became my friend as I read her thoughts.
February 27, 2024
All of Madeleine's journals have been a companion to me for many years. When I feel stuck and find it hard to find my place, I can return to her words of edification and hope and know I'll find my way. She's always brought me such hope and love.
November 18, 2019
This one took me a bit to get through. And some parts were a little too philosophical for me. But, there were many ideas in here that got me thinking and I liked that.
April 6, 2022
Really good book. There were some lulls in the middle and dragged for a bit. The ending brought everything together.
May 27, 2022
Fascinating to hear about her writing process, her frustrations, & that her hubs acted on B-way! I had no idea. Love hearing about how she became a church choir director & hearing about her faith
Want to read
April 6, 2023MMD
March 9, 2024
All of her non fiction is so well written.
set-aside
November 20, 2025On my kindle, may come back to it someday.
December 1, 2025
It was a joy to open these books each evening before bed. She inspired me to spend more time communing with God, cultivating relationships, be-ing in nature, making music, and writing. I will come back to these and read them again at some point.
December 25, 2019
I love quiet and peace, and most of life is about activity and noise. So, when I need somewhere to slip away to, I reach for a Madeleine L’Engle book. This series is soothing. It’s like curling up in your favorite comfy chair, hot tea on the table beside you and a soft warm blanket wrapped around you and letting all the cares and turmoil of the day go while you take time to recharge.
Consider this passage:
Consider this passage:
A nap, of course, was all it was, hardly even that, because we simply lay in our big bed holding each other, taking comfort in touch, the beating of the heart, the gentle motion of breath, holding each other in the manner of the human being in time of danger, sorrow, death.
Then there was the usual rush of getting the children ready for school, Hugh off for the store, and then the phone started ringing, and we were all off in a mad whirl of baking pies and cakes for the men still working in the debris of what had been the long white wing of the house, and collecting clothes for the Brechsteins, and cleaning up the main house so that there was no sign of smoke or water or broken windows, and for a few splendid days thousands of cups of coffee were swallowed and all the tensions were miraculously eased, and the church women held a kitchen shower for the Brechsteins because the kitchen had been in the wing, and Mrs. Brechstein managed not to put her foot in her mouth, and people forgot for an evening who was old and who was new and nobody called anybody else a Communist. It was at least a week before somebody came into the store and said angrily, “Did you hear what the Brechsteins did now?”
Perhaps New Englanders are unfriendly, and perhaps I’ll never understand or like either the Brechsteins or Wilberforce Smith, and perhaps we’ll never feel anything but newcomers in this tight little community.
But where, after we have made the great decision to leave the security of childhood and move on into the vastness of maturity, does anybody ever feel completely at home?
Read
January 31, 2018once again I wanted to like this one. I gave it my usual 50 pages it just didn't capture my attention. Boring
Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews