If you want to read a few hundred pages of philosophical vomit, this is the book for you. It took me almost two miserable months to finish this and I should have just abandoned it. L'Engle rambles on about random events throughout her life, people she misjudged, the "youngsters" she counseled, and takes an entire page to answer "how did you feel winning the Newbury Medal?" Spoiler: she felt joy.

Ugh.

I suppose the isness of anything would be frightening without the hope of God. An oak tree is, and it doesn't matter to it-at least Sarte thinks it doesn't; it is not a thinking oak. Man is; it matters to him; this is terrifying unless it matters to God, too, because this is the only possible reason we can matter to ourselves: not because we are sufficient unto ourselves-I am not: my husband, my family, my friends give me meaning and, in a sense, my being, so that I, like the burning bush, or the oak tree, am ontological: essential: real. (PG 8)

Wonderful thoughts, wonderful woman. Discusses religion and lack of religion, her family, her writing, facts of life. Written in the 1970s but it still applies to today; wars and unnecessary violence and Love, lots of talk of Love and joy.

I look at many of the brilliant, sophisticated intellectuals of my generation, struggling through psychoanalysis, balancing sleeping pills with waking pills, teetering on the thin edge of despair, and think that perhaps they have not found the answer after all. (PG 42)

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I wish I would have left it alone... I saw, by chance, an article that basically said Madeleine L'Engle is full of SH*T. And I read this article and it interviewed her children that say the same thing. She herself states that her journals, her personal, handwritten journals, are fiction and it's okay if she does this. Her novels could be considered non-fiction, whatever her mood desires. Her husband wasn't as wonderful as I imagined him. He was a philanderer and an alcoholic. Her son died at the age of forty-seven due to liver failure from alcoholism but she will never admit this. The kids hated her books and she made up her life.

I'm only annoyed because I freaking loved this and my rating won't change but it's a made up journal and even her feelings seem made up. Read it as fiction. I do hope she believes in God though. She could have sold me a bathing suit in winter. She's good but don't ever Google someone you admire. They end up being caca.

Well except Jesus Christ. He's the real deal. Christ is KING!

I have read much of this book before, several years ago, but it was the perfect book to read slowly these last several weeks. L’Engles writing feels almost as nourishing to my soul as a long conversation with a good friend.

“Like it or not, we either add to the darkness of indifference and out-and-out evil which surround us or we light a candle to see by.” p. 99

“If every hair of my head is counted, then in the very scheme of the cosmos I matter; I am created by a power who cares about the sparrow, and the rabbit in the snare, and the people on the crowded streets; who calls the stars by name. And you. And me.” p. 99-100

recommend to writers, parents, teachers, thinkers, artists, and believers (and anyone who knows and loves someone who fits one or more of these categories).

Re-issue, ARC for review.

I love L'Engle's books and from this journal she seems like she would have been a lovely person (if a bit of an overachiever...I think I would have always felt I should have been accomplishing more had I known her!). This is also a book I've been meaning to read for years so I was glad to have an opportunity to read and review this new edition published by Open Road (I hope they keep the beautiful cover with the purple flower).

L'Engle notes "a circle is considered the perfect form of art" and believes that all people need a "circle of quiet" in which to just be their true selves, a place where one can indulge one's introvertedness (I don't think that's a word) - hers is an area of their home at Crosswicks, but it can be anywhere that is uniquely yours. In this book L'Engle examines her roles as writer, wife and mother and, if I'm being honest, I think it's a book that my mother would enjoy more than I did. It's not that it's dated - for having first been published in 1971 it still seems of today, but L'Engle also seems....and it pains me to say this....a bit of a fuddy-duddy. She's fifty-one when she writes the book and at the time of the writing four generations of her family are living under the same roof at Crosswicks, her mother (there's a chapter devoted to her, but not much else) as well as some baby grandchildren. Her children seem just too, too delightful (oh, but if I had children, how much would I love it if they made random references to kid lit?) as does her wonderful husband. She notes "'I am a happy person'" and she has every reason to be, and though she alludes to times in her life that, perhaps, weren't as happy, she doesn't focus on them.

Perhaps what made the book seem a bit dated, at least for me, is that L'Engle is quite religious, though she claims not to be. I think perhaps some of her ideas might have raised a few eyebrows in the early 70s, and among her peers, but today we would see her as fairly prudish, I think, and though she despairs, even in the 70s that "the word 'Christian' means for so many people smugness, and piosity, and holier-than-thouness," what might not have come across that way almost fifty years ago reads a bit differently now. She feels very strongly about young people embracing religion, and committing to marriage, and she also has strong views on obscenity and parenting. However, the world has changed quite a bit and while some of L'Engle's core beliefs may still stand, some of the specifics seem outdated and a bit like a lecture from your grandmother. So, while I liked the gentle nature of the book, I couldn't quite fall in love with it in the way that I had hoped.

While I enjoyed L'Engle's Wrinkle in Time quintet, A Circle of Quiet is so much more. More meaningful, contemplative, thoughtful, and just what I wanted to read when I felt the need to envelop myself in a circle of quiet. I enjoyed her thoughts on theology, writing for both children and adults, children’s education, and more. Her meditations on love, joy, creativity, and awareness record her fears, self-doubt, failures, and successes, and serve as a guidepost to our own questions and questioning.

This book of Madeleine L’Engle’s journal essays, written 40 years ago, is still relatable and relevant.

I really enjoy L’Engle’s nonfiction writing style as she tells stories from her family’s life or muses about topics important to her. I will remember her thoughts about the process of writing and her general humility at being a tiny part of the huge story of the universe.

This should be a must-read for mothers and creatives alike. Thought-provoking, honest mothering and all its struggles, life, humanity...it's all there. Crosswicks is like curling up with a grandma and mentor.

2.5

I enjoy Madeleine L’Engle’s books for the most part, but ‘A Circle of Quiet’ left me cold. The author rambled amongst remembrances, often leaving me frustrated, and I was put off by a what seemed to be pretension and an air of self-consciousness throughout the memoir.

I gave the memoir 2.5 stars because there were a few nuggets of gold buried in the the author’s maunderings - but, overall, I was disappointed in the book.

This is the first of 3 edited journals by Madeleine L'Engle. She writes about family, her writing process, her life in NYC and the country, her basic wisdom and perspective about life, after success and age have blessed her. I drank this book--quaffed it, really. It was so inspiring, so delightful, and so enjoyable. I laughed and empathized. And I felt very guilty about having been a poor journal-keeper, even though I am a writer. I want to read the next 2 Crosswalks books.