I saw Madeleine L'Engle speak when I was probably 12 or 13, and what I chiefly recall is that someone in the audience stood up and used a fold of skirt to explain what she did understand about tesseracts, as a way of asking about all the parts she didn't understand. I remember thinking it was a brilliant question, and being very annoyed that it did not get an answer that in any way answered the question.

The NY Times has a whole obituary department and hundreds of obits that they keep updated. Some of the best writing in the NY Times has been in the obits.

I have read almost all of her books. I love the way that almost all her fiction has some kind of link to the other books. Suzi Austin shows up in A Severed Wasp, for example. From what I've read, her son felt being the model for Charles Wallace and Rob Austin hard to live up to. I don't ask that memoirs be literally true. I think they're frequently true to the experience of the author, which may not coincide with reality.

She talked a lot about her faith which surprised me.

Hmm, I though her Christianity was pretty well intertwined in the books she wrote. Knowing nothing of her but her books, it would have surprised me if she *hadn't* talked of her faith a lot. On a scale of "Christian fiction" I'd have rated her books as a higher ratio of Christian/fiction than Narnia, but lower than Perelandia.

I love the way that almost all her fiction has some kind of link to the other books. Suzi Austin shows up in A Severed Wasp, for example.

Somewhere I read a chart of which characters show up in each others' books, even as a "cameo," and it's impressive how much crossover there is.

L'Engle wrote me a letter once. A monk friend of my mother's sent her a poem I wrote. Apparently. Now that I say it out loud, it all sounds rather implausible.

A college friend of mine wrote back and forth with Piers Anthony but I've heard he had hundreds of pen pals.

Kin Platt, author of my favorite and as yet unrepurchased YA novel Sinbad and Me, was tracked down (published info only) by an old boyfriend who wanted to surprise me with a copy...couldn't find any and figured the author might have a clue where to look. Platt threatened to call the police. That guy was cranky .

I mentioned Sinbad and Me here a couple of years ago and got shared love, which is validating. Still no copy on my shelf though.

Is still sad and possessing of a vague sense of incompletion.

I'm a huge fan of Sinbad and me. I'd love to read it again, as well as its sequels (which are even more rare).

It's beginning to feel like the Holy Grail...