"I'm homesick," Sandy says at the book's close. There are still large and teeming families, newfound friendships and painstakingly carved alliances. And even the new world-populated with beautiful, blushworthy seraphim-is not all that unfamiliar. They casually welcome you into L'Engle's extraordinary tale: shifting time and space, awkward youth performing slightly less awkward acts of heroism. But they are grounded in reality in a relieving way. They finish each other's sentences and stumble into adventure almost as an afterthought. Sandy and Dennys are particularly magical twins. The ability to anchor the extraordinary within the commonplace is what I've always admired in the Time Quintet, and what really shines in Many Waters. I point an accusatory finger at Madeleine L'Engle and Many Waters for this desperate longing for a twin, just as I blame L'Engle for equally desiring a boy to admire both my bravery and my moon-boat eyes. There seemed to be a particular magic in seeing your own face outside of a mirror-passing back and forth secrets and deeply held sorrows with the warmth of shared confidences and determined unity. For February, Karuna Riazi (The Gauntlet ) revisits Many Waters : In the months leading up to the release of the A Wrinkle in Time movie, we're asking authors of middle grade and young adult to revisit a title in Madeleine L'Engle's Time Quintet.
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