Camilla by Madeleine L'Engle
Apr. 19th, 2006 06:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zalenaWhat L'Engle re-read would be complete without re-reading one of my all time favorite books, Camilla? I can't remember the last time I read this book, probably in high school or college. I identified with it very strongly, and it was always on the list of books I would carry around because they reminded me of who I am.
I had a conversation with my mother about it before I re-read, she brought it up when she heard I was reading other L'Engle because even she remembered me reading it. (My mother is not particularly observant about these things, and I hid many of the books I read from her.)
I told her I identified with the book because it was about someone who was 15 and whose parents got divorced. I still love the marvelous way the book is constructed, how Camilla finds her first love at the same time her family is breaking up. Not to mention how her parents' split alters her view of everything in the universe, including her first love.
What I hadn't remembered was Camilla's relationships with Frank, and how much it is like me and T. We would also spend days wandering around town having long, philosophical, conversations. There was always the hint of a kiss in the air that never quite materialized. He made my world glad again, and made me feel that there was someone there who understand, who believed me when I talked, and let me be silent when I didn't have anything to say.
I used to think my relationship with him was something unique, but I'm guessing that most people have this kind of "special friend" in their mid to late teens. It's developmentally appropriate. We are exploring the possibilities of partnership, without being fully ready for intimacy or a life companion. It'd different than dating and I can't put my finger on why. I was closer to him than I had ever been to anyone in my life. To date, I'm not sure that anyone has ever known me better, including Ex.
What I can't get my head around is that it is likely to be developmentally appropriate that he NOT be a part of my life now. I don't know the stories about this happening, or what it feels like to be observing it from outside the experience. Reading Camilla now it is with a fierce protectiveness, remembering exactly how it felt to be in her situation.
As far as the book goes, standing on it's own, it is very lean for a L'Engle. She does have long paragraphs of overly sincere life philosophy, but luckily her characters are teenagers who would actually talk this way. She cleverly fits extra scenes into the book by having Camilla's best friend "psychoanalyse" her. Not only is the set up absolutely hysterical, it gives Camilla a chance to recall all these early childhood memories that relate to her current situation with her parents. It is intercut with an argument Luisa's parents are having in the next room, creating extra dramatic tension and irony.
One of the aspects of the novel I picked up on this time, was the spectre of the War still haunting the characters. (I've been trying to figure out when the novel is set. It's after the War, but the vets are still young. The Third Avenue El is still up, so we know it's no later than 1955.) L'Engle's treatment of the war material is not so overt as someone like Doris Lessing, but there seems to be a similar philosophy that war has maimed a generation. We sense that one of the problems with the dads in the book is that they are veterans.
There were a few things that rubbed me the wrong way. I've read an awful lot of L'Engle in the past few weeks, meaning that the nature of the universe stuff has become a bit repetitive. I didn't like how Camilla hangs on gooey-eyed to Frank while he spouts his life philosophy without asking any questions or offering something of her own. I know it's consistent to character and that far too many of us young women act this way when we meet someone a few years "older and wiser," but I wanted Camilla to speak up, damn it!
But I'm pleased to say that despite those few scenes that had me rolling my eyes, this still remains one of my favorite L'Engle books, and stands up to a few extra years for us both.
Random thoughts:
The book was written in 1965, which puts it in company with Meet the Austins and The Moon by Night, but it's much better crafted than either of those two.
Something about it reminded me of Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk, almost as though they were living lives superimposed over the same apartment. Morningstar is a great book that gave me the chills because Marjorie and her consciousness are slowly subsumed into her culture, until it almost feels like a robot or mannequin is all that's left at the end of the book.
Since Salinger has been discussed so widely these past few weeks, I thought some of you might appreciate the following blurb on the back of the book:
"There is a remarkable similarity between this book and J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye. Both are told in the first person, and both are concerned with the problems of a sensitive adolescent faced suddenly with the necessity of crossing the dividing line between childhood and maturity. Ms. L'Engle's Camilla has more innate strength and stability than Salinger's Holden Caulfield." -- Saturday Review
I had a conversation with my mother about it before I re-read, she brought it up when she heard I was reading other L'Engle because even she remembered me reading it. (My mother is not particularly observant about these things, and I hid many of the books I read from her.)
I told her I identified with the book because it was about someone who was 15 and whose parents got divorced. I still love the marvelous way the book is constructed, how Camilla finds her first love at the same time her family is breaking up. Not to mention how her parents' split alters her view of everything in the universe, including her first love.
What I hadn't remembered was Camilla's relationships with Frank, and how much it is like me and T. We would also spend days wandering around town having long, philosophical, conversations. There was always the hint of a kiss in the air that never quite materialized. He made my world glad again, and made me feel that there was someone there who understand, who believed me when I talked, and let me be silent when I didn't have anything to say.
I used to think my relationship with him was something unique, but I'm guessing that most people have this kind of "special friend" in their mid to late teens. It's developmentally appropriate. We are exploring the possibilities of partnership, without being fully ready for intimacy or a life companion. It'd different than dating and I can't put my finger on why. I was closer to him than I had ever been to anyone in my life. To date, I'm not sure that anyone has ever known me better, including Ex.
What I can't get my head around is that it is likely to be developmentally appropriate that he NOT be a part of my life now. I don't know the stories about this happening, or what it feels like to be observing it from outside the experience. Reading Camilla now it is with a fierce protectiveness, remembering exactly how it felt to be in her situation.
As far as the book goes, standing on it's own, it is very lean for a L'Engle. She does have long paragraphs of overly sincere life philosophy, but luckily her characters are teenagers who would actually talk this way. She cleverly fits extra scenes into the book by having Camilla's best friend "psychoanalyse" her. Not only is the set up absolutely hysterical, it gives Camilla a chance to recall all these early childhood memories that relate to her current situation with her parents. It is intercut with an argument Luisa's parents are having in the next room, creating extra dramatic tension and irony.
One of the aspects of the novel I picked up on this time, was the spectre of the War still haunting the characters. (I've been trying to figure out when the novel is set. It's after the War, but the vets are still young. The Third Avenue El is still up, so we know it's no later than 1955.) L'Engle's treatment of the war material is not so overt as someone like Doris Lessing, but there seems to be a similar philosophy that war has maimed a generation. We sense that one of the problems with the dads in the book is that they are veterans.
There were a few things that rubbed me the wrong way. I've read an awful lot of L'Engle in the past few weeks, meaning that the nature of the universe stuff has become a bit repetitive. I didn't like how Camilla hangs on gooey-eyed to Frank while he spouts his life philosophy without asking any questions or offering something of her own. I know it's consistent to character and that far too many of us young women act this way when we meet someone a few years "older and wiser," but I wanted Camilla to speak up, damn it!
But I'm pleased to say that despite those few scenes that had me rolling my eyes, this still remains one of my favorite L'Engle books, and stands up to a few extra years for us both.
Random thoughts:
The book was written in 1965, which puts it in company with Meet the Austins and The Moon by Night, but it's much better crafted than either of those two.
Something about it reminded me of Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk, almost as though they were living lives superimposed over the same apartment. Morningstar is a great book that gave me the chills because Marjorie and her consciousness are slowly subsumed into her culture, until it almost feels like a robot or mannequin is all that's left at the end of the book.
Since Salinger has been discussed so widely these past few weeks, I thought some of you might appreciate the following blurb on the back of the book:
"There is a remarkable similarity between this book and J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye. Both are told in the first person, and both are concerned with the problems of a sensitive adolescent faced suddenly with the necessity of crossing the dividing line between childhood and maturity. Ms. L'Engle's Camilla has more innate strength and stability than Salinger's Holden Caulfield." -- Saturday Review
