As Madeleine L’Engle explains, I must have read around an awful lot that I didn’t get as a kid. Regardless of the fact I read the book as fiction when I was a child, the hefty vocabulary and proper writing style left me amazed I understood anything that happened in the book back then. Or, perhaps I’m reading too much of my college education into my nine-year-old self. I would have better understood the meandering plot line and thick descriptions. I almost wish I had known the story was real when I read it the first time. In fact, only a note from the author on the copyright page indicates that the events in the book actually happened. First and foremost, my Scholastic copy of Rascal did not include the words “memoir” or “nonfiction” anywhere on the cover.
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