A couple weekends ago, my partner and I went to the local big book chain and just wandered around the aisles for a couple hours. At the end of our experience, we only picked out a copy of A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle, mainly because I hadn’t read it before. My partner was surprised for sure, thinking that a fantasy series would be right in my “Lord of the Rings-obsessed child” wheelhouse. But for one reason or another, it never reached my hands until the ripe old age of 23 (and three-quarters). As I bought my book, the cashier said, “Aw, this is an amazing book. Have you read it before?” When I replied “no, actually,” her face froze in shock until she asked, “How is that possible?” I didn’t have an answer for her, but I have a few ideas.