Three of four L'Engle books down and one to go. I'll be glad when they're over. The third book is,
The Arm Of The Starfish
a.k.a., an extremely thin mystery and a surprising amount of morality lessons woven into a story of a teenage boy grappling with some pretty strong hormones and losing, pretty much, every time. It's hard--as a reader and a woman--to fall into the mindset of a boy who is so obviously being manipulated by a beautiful, lying, conniving and contriving young woman.
Who doesn't want to believe you're being wanted for yourself, not for your potential as a spy? Even when she starts slipping in phrases like "how do I know I'll see you again" or "I love you," he is still hopelessly confused. Girls don't say that, silly--unless they want something.
I think I just slipped a major spoiler.
But to be honest, I just don't see what anyone sees in this book. Or ever saw. The morals are good--think for yourself; live for a reason more important than mere survival; and when you have to power to help other people, help unconditionally. I like those morals. I just didn't like the book.
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