I think I was about 10 the first time I read 'A Wrinkle in Time' and when I think about it, the Murray's house is the house that I grew up in and their yard was our yard.
I can't separate this book from my own memories of my childhood.
It's sort of like I mind melded with it. Which is sort of odd, maybe? Or maybe that's what children do when they imagine and dream... just sort of mash it all together into one memory.
In any event, I read it again the other day. It didn't take me very long - which is also not my memory of childhood. I remember this being a "big" book at the time. It seemed a little daunting to me then. So when I picked it up this time, I was surprised that it really is a children's book. But it's still a great book.
And I enjoyed it just as much this time as I did the first time.