As I’ve told you before, science fiction is not exactly my favorite genre of literature. I guess I get a little vertigo when we are traveling between planets all the time. Tesseracting (space travel through manipulating time) is definitely way out of my comfort zone, and we’ve had to tesseract like six times now. I’m struggling with it more than poor Meg!
A good English regency book is more my style, where everything is a bit more predictable and where there are a lot more rules. Certainly a multi-tentacled alien is not allowed to just show up at the end of the book, especially without an introduction!
My son is just eating up A Wrinkle in Time. When you have an eleven year old son who absolutely hates to read, but begs you to keep reading to him, you would read sci fi too. Unlike me, Davy is really not into rules, so why would he bother to learn the ins and out of the Regency Era protocol? (I, on the other hand, wonder why I love books with rules. Is is because nobody listens to my rules? A world where people care about rules is what I call a fantasy book.)
Sci fi seems to have no rules, or if it does the rules are changing, expanding, just like science itself is changing and expanding, and Davy LOVES that. I suppose children’s minds are so much more flexible than our grown up minds.
Unlike me, Davy is completely comfortable with planet hopping. I will continue to planet hop no matter how queasy my stomach gets, especially because he won’t let anyone read to him but me. This comes as quite a surprise. Davy is so not a Mama’s boy, and he usually stays out of my line of vision to avoid getting asked to do chores.
But at 8:00 at night, I’m suddenly his favorite person. Aw. I’m flattered.