A House Like a Lotus

O'Keefe Family #3

by Madeleine L'Engle

By the author of A Wrinkle in Time, the conclusion to the Polly O'Keefe stories finds Polly taking an unforgettable trip to Europe, all by herself.Sixteen-year-old Polly is on her way to the island of Cyprus, where she will work as a gofer. The trip was arranged by Maximiliana Horne, a rich, brilliant artist who, with her longtime companion, Dr. Ursula Heschel, recently became the O'Keefe family's neighbor on Benne Seed Island. Max and Polly formed an instant friendship and Max took over Polly's education, giving her the encouragement and confidence that her isolated upbringing had not. Polly adored Max, even idolized her, until Max betrayed her. In Greece, Polly finds romance, danger, and unique friendships. But can she ever forgive Max?Books by Madeleine L'EngleA Wrinkle in Time QuintetA Wrinkle in TimeA Wind in the DoorA Swiftly Tilting PlanetMany WatersAn Acceptable TimeA Wrinkle in The Graphic Novel by Madeleine L'Engle; adapted & illustrated by Hope LarsonIntergalactic P.S. 3 by Madeleine L'Engle; illustrated by Hope A standalone story set in the world of A Wrinkle in Time.The Austin Family ChroniclesMeet the Austins (Volume 1) The Moon by Night (Volume 2) The Young Unicorns (Volume 3)A Ring of Endless Light (Volume 4) A Newbery Honor book!Troubling a Star (Volume 5)The Polly O'Keefe booksThe Arm of the StarfishDragons in the WatersA House Like a LotusAnd Both Were YoungCamillaThe Joys of Love

Genres: Young Adult, Fiction, Fantasy, Childrens, Romance, Science Fiction, Teen

336 pages, Kindle Edition

First published November 1, 1984

About the author

Madeleine L'Engle was an American writer of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and young adult fiction, including A Wrinkle in Time and its sequels: A Wind in the Door, A Swiftly Tilting Planet, Many Waters, and An Acceptable Time. Her works reflect both her Christian faith and her strong interest in modern science.

Reviews

[Kirsten · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is one of the L'Engle books I struggle with the most - the blatant homophobia in particular. I've never understood the big climactic crisis between Max and Polly - my impression is always that Max got drunk and weird (which might be a little upsetting), but I just can't see any signs of seduction - I think that's just people transferring their own homophobic fears there...... The supposedly sympathetic characters (starting with Meg and Calvin) talk in hushed tones about Max being a lesbian like it's akin to pedophilia or being a serial killer. Not okay.

Also, I DO. NOT. GET. the character of Zachary Gray - I know he's supposed to be slick and attractive and all, but he just repels me, and I can't imagine why Polly O'Keefe (or Vicky Austin) ever gives him the time of day, much less spending all that time with him. L'Engle obviously saw some value in him as a character (or plot device) - maybe just because of the words she could put in his mouth - but I think he's awkward and out of place and completely unbelievable and utterly icky.

As an adult, I have to say that the relationship between Polly and Renny squicked me out too. She's 16 and he's an intern at the hospital (therefore, in his mid-to-late-20s at LEAST), and no one has a problem with them dating? Yeah right. I just can't handle that.

[Sonia · Rating 1 out of 5]

Maybe it's because I've done so much work with people who have a history of sexual abuse, but this book struck me as mostly being about would-be predators and actual predators. I don't care if it's 1984 or 1954 or 1864, it's still creepy for a dude in his mid- to late 20s to be dating a 16-year-old, and to seduce her when she's at her most emotionally vulnerable. The book's structure is also kind of nonsensical, and it is never wise to have the story you're telling in flashback be more interesting than the story of the present. The love interest in the present - Zachary Grey - is a creeper and also insufferable, and Polly herself (excuse me, Polyhymnia) has virtually no personality of her own. It's hard to root for her, or feel sympathy for her as she gallivants around the world or lives at home with her accepting parents on an island off the coast of South Carolina. And then there are the maybe-predatory lesbians with their deadly tropical diseases - I actually don't think this even is an AIDS metaphor, but if it is, it doesn't make any sense as one. Considering this is a later book for L'Engle, it almost seems like she took for granted the fact that people would read it. As an advertisement for travel to Greece or Cyprus - it's so great when you get to randomly leave school to take a gofer job at a conference of wordly writers! - it's A++. As a novel, it's a bit of a mess.

[Yakety Yaks · Rating 4 out of 5]

In case you haven’t figured this out yet, here’s a hint about my personality: If I’m reviewing a Madeleine L’Engle book, it means I had a rough week and needed to be with an old friend.

Madeleine L’Engle is that friend to me. No, I never met her personally; but I go to her books time and time again, whenever I’m feeling melancholy, or in a rut, or listless, or reverent, or particularly annoyed, or even just bored. She is dependable in her brilliance, her wisdom, and her ability to surprise me (more than once I’ve exclaimed, “Oh my gosh! Madeleine L’Engle just used the F-word!” or something equally surprising).

We all need friends like Madeleine. If you don’t have one yet, I recommend finding one. You’ll be thankful for years to come.

Anyway, like I said, last week was a bad week. No need to bog you down with details, but let’s just say that I’m in a grieving season, work has been super stressful, and I’m struggling not to punch people in the face on a daily basis.

So, Madeleine to the rescue.


This is the original, 1984 cover, and the version I read.

A synopsis:

16 year old Polly O’Keefe lands in Athens, Greece, with a whole slew of hurts, grief and secrets. When she discovers she is unexpectedly alone in Athens (her aunt and uncle are delayed for a few days), she ends up spending her time with a young man she just met. Zachary is tall, dark, and handsome; and while his attentions charm Polly, she is very aware that he carries his own stormy burdens. Despite his unpredictability, Polly trusts him–a surprising feat, considering she has had her trust in others damaged lately.

In alternating chapters of past and present, we journey with Polly through a friendship that provided great support and growth, only to suffer a devastating blow. As Polly deals with the hurt of her past, her present relationships–with Zachary, and coworkers at a retreat center–begin to showcase the anger, pain and inability to forgive she’s carrying. When Polly’s fate takes a dangerous turn on an outing with Zachary, her capacity for forgiveness is challenged more than ever.

Surprisingly, I had never read this one before. When a friend recently reminisced about this as one of her favorites, I had to pick it up. I was not disappointed.

As always, L’Engle’s sense of narrative is strong and compelling. Though there is no time travel or supernatural mystery here, as there so often is in her work, the pacing of the character development keeps you turning pages. What is the wound that Polly so stubbornly clings to? Why would she turn from idolizing her friend at home, to fearing and avoiding her?

I love how human Polly is. She is aware of her own humanity–which is refreshing–and is constantly questioning her decisions and emotions. Being from a scientific family (she is the daughter of Meg Murray O’Keefe and Calvin O’Keefe from A Wrinkle in Time), Polly is very self-aware, and logical in her thought process. But her emotions still manage to get the best of her, and drive her to make decisions that hurt her even more. I love this because I understand it. I’m very much a “Thinker” vs. “Feeler,” but I’ve made my fair share of irrational, emotionally-based decisions that have hurt me and those I love.

I love, also, that Polly really does know herself. She makes mistakes for sure, but she is not easily persuaded to act in a way that she is not comfortable with. Zachary, for example, guesses at one of Polly’s secrets, and attempts to persuade her into a more intimate physical relationship. While Polly is tempted, she does not buckle under Zachary’s advances, simply because she knows what she is and is not ready for. This dedication to her morals is exactly what makes Polly such a strong and dynamic character. She is not a watered-down, overly sexualized teen. She’s dignified, she’s flawed, and she knows herself.

Humanity in all of its flawed glory is a powerful theme in A House Like a Lotus. Each character, like a lotus flower, is layered and beautiful. From Polly and her emotional baggage, to the complicated and beautiful relationship between Max and her lover, Ursula, to the rash but adoring Zachary–everyone in this book is human. (And that isn’t always the case for many writers. I think writing compelling, real characters at every level in a book is one of the most difficult tasks a writer faces.)

While I do think this book is YA, I am very thankful I read it for the first time as an adult. I’m not sure I would have connected with Polly as well when I was a teenager. L’Engle’s writing is, as always, beautiful and elegant–but the setting and themes would have been a little more abstract for me when I was a teen. But that’s just me. I think older teen readers, or readers who just love good characters, will discover traces of themselves in Polly and her friends. What more could you want from a book, anyway?

[LOVE YA BOOKS? FIND MORE OF OUR REVIEWS ON YAKETYYAKS.COM...PLUS OTHER AWESOME STUFF! :)]

[Michael Fitzgerald · Rating 1 out of 5]

Embarrassingly bad. Like L'Engle does Judy Blume or something. Maybe an after-school special. Back and forth between stories, neither of which is particularly compelling. I had thought we had seen the last of that idiot Zachary Gray, but he's back, as if nothing had happened. This book is eminently skippable, alas.

[Teresa · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a straight-up coming-of-age story, and one I had some issues with; but I don’t generally argue content when the writing and structure are good. The latter is especially so (meaning I kept reading to get to the flashbacks) and made for compelling reading; though after the end of the first part, when the secret of Polly’s hurting is revealed, I found it less so.

The subject matter, touching on homosexuality and teen sex, is for the oldest, or most mature, of teens. Polly is sixteen, a junior in high school, and she’s hanging out with twenty-something-year-old men; one with the encouragement of the adults in her life. (I especially had issues with some of the advice, not related to the young men, her ‘woke’ Uncle Sandy gives her.) The adults tell her she still has growing up to do (she tells herself that as well), yet she is given a lot of freedom, though most of what happens to her is (realistically) unknown to her parents.

I read this novel (along with its respective endnotes) in this edition: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...

[Manybooks · Rating 3 out of 5]

Honestly and truly, to say that I am rather majorly conflicted with regard to Madeleine L'Engle's 1984 A House Like a Lotus is certainly and definitely a bit of a massive understatement. For while from the three (of the four in total) Polly O'Keefe novels I have read to date, I have indeed enjoyed A House Like a Lotus the most thus far (and that for me novels one and two of the Polly O'Keefe books, that both The Arm of the Starfish and Dragons in the Water do indeed and absolutely rank far far behind A House Like a Lotus with regard to personal reading pleasure) there are also in my humble opinion a number of potential issues with Madeleine L'Engle's featured text, with the way A House Like a Lotus unfolds, and that some of the thematics and contents of A House Like a Lotus do make me kind of shake my head and growl with frustration and annoyance (and actually more than just a trifle).

And first and foremost (and kind of rather textually tainting everything for me to an extent with regard to A House Like a Lotus if I am to be brutally and fully honest), considering that I totally do not at all like the character of Zachary Gray, that I indeed tend to find it majorly cringeworthy how often and in multiple series Madeleine L'Engle has him, has Zachary appear, and yes, that his presence in both The Moon by Night and A Ring of Endless Light has not only rather ruined both novels a bit for me but has also made me totally annoyed and frustrated with Vicky Austin (and her constantly linking up with Zachary Gary, making excuses for him and obviously also seriously enjoying Zachary Gray's company), to have Zachary appear in A House like a Lotus and to have him act pretty well in the same manner towards Polly O'Keefe (and with her, with Polly being similarly taken with and fascinated by Zachary Gray as Vicky Austin had been), yes, this almost does make me want to scream and it has also totally and hugely lessened reading joy and pleasure (and not to mention that Zachary Gary also seemingly ends up as a main protagonist in the last of the Polly O'Keefe novels, in An Acceptable Time, and yes, that this most definitely makes me not look all that much forward to reading An Acceptable Time).

Furthermore, with regard to the "betrayal" of Polly O'Keefe by Max in A House Like a Lotus, sorry, but after having read A House Like a Lotus (and even though Max and Ursula are clearly meant to be represented as Lesbians by Madeleine L'Engle) I really DO NOT consider what is being textually described as a case of Max trying to sexually seduce Polly. And while I can certainly understand and commiserate with Polly O'Keefe being rather frightened by Max's drunken strangeness, the fact that there is not (in my opinion) any textual hint of sexual impropriety shown in A House Like a Lotus (by Max towards Polly), this certainly makes both Polly feeling "betrayed" by Max and everyone rather considering Max's Lesbianism as almost some kind of a disease uncomfortably homophobic (and yes, even for 1984).

And while in A House Like a Lotus, Polly O'Keefe finally as protagonist and first person narrator begins to feel (to my reading self) like she is a real person, like a real teenager and not cardboard thin and on the surface (and like Polly ALWAYS appears in both The Arm of the Starfish and in Dragons in the Waters), this pretty much all encompassing personality change and that Madeleine L'Engle has Polly O'Keefe in A House like a Lotus bear very strong resemblances and similarities to in particular Vicky Austin, while this has definitely been very much personally appreciated and has made A House Like a Lotus readable, realistic and a lovely coming of age story in many ways, sorry, but the character, the personality differences between the Polly O'Keefe of The Arm of the Starfish and Dragons in the Water to what Polly is like and how she thinks, feels and acts in A House Like a Lotus, they are so profoundly changed and altered that for me it also and rather frustratingly feels as though Madeleine L'Engle has textually created an entirely new, a totally different Polly O'Keefe for A House Like a Lotus (and that there is thus also no real continuance from the first two O'Keefe Family novels to A House Like a Lotus and in particular with regard to Polly O'Keefe).

Finally, and perhaps I am being just a bit overly critical here, I do find it a bit strange and problematic that in A House Like a Lotus, Madeleine L'Engle seems to consider it textually acceptable for Polly O'Keefe, for a teenager, to travel alone to Greece and then to have to explore Athens on her own as well because her aunt and her uncle have somehow been delayed and are in the USA and not able to pick her up at the Athens airport. For honestly, I was expecting at the very least a bit of criticism by l'Engle within the pages of A House Like a Lotus, as I personally do not think that Polly O'Keefe is old enough and mature enough to be traipsing around Athens on her own, and I guess that her meeting up with and being courted by Zachary Gary kind of shows this (but well, that Uncle Sandy and Aunt Rhea are not at the Athens airport to meet Polly, this does seem to be rather universally accepted by Madeleine L'Engle in A House Like a Lotus, and emotionally speaking, this really manages to bother me quite a bit).

[Lauren · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of my all-time favorite L'Engle books.

As protagonists go, I love Poly/Polly O'Keefe more than any of the other L'Engle main characters except Meg. Even if Polly keeps going out with Zachary Gray (duh!).

I love the settings of this book: one of the islands of the Carolinas, a beautiful place, and Greece, one of the places I long to go.

And I love Max. Maxamiliana Horne. Who is special and real and fascinating and loving and helped me start, when I was a mildly angry young person, to accept a close family member who is a Lesbian.

From the perspective of now, when the Gay and Lesbian community is prominent and things like Prop 8 raise a hue and cry of dismay, it seems weird that anyone might ever have had such feelings, but I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, when we did not talk of these things, and having someone in my family who was gay--but not openly so, because we did not talk of these things--was very difficult.

And then Madeleine, whom I trusted and loved through her books, said to me through the character of Max that it's okay to love someone who loves differently... and I began slowly to accept. This book brought healing to me in a way that no human being did as I was struggling to understand.

[Shannon · Rating 2 out of 5]

I had a strong emotional reaction to this book. I felt like I could connect personally with Polly on many levels and in many situations, but Polly had the wrong reaction to almost every situation she was in. Like Polly, I was the oldest child who acted as a third parent to her siblings, I also had a younger family member who was more attractive / popular / social, and my mother was concerned that I didn’t go to dances or have a boyfriend. Like Polly, many people in high school (and my Dad) thought I was a lesbian because my friends were. This did not bother me like it did Polly, though. Similar to Polly, I have gone to Europe to forget a traumatic relationship with an older (married) person, and I have had a selfish, manipulative, and inappropriate married man tell me that it was my fault I fell in love with him as a teenager. There are EVEN more similarities, if you can believe it, but I need to get into all of my issues with this book before I explode.


1. Max. Max awakens Polly’s self-confidence, intellectually and physically. She is a mother-figure in many ways, and puts a heavy relationship on Polly – of her fulfilling the role of Max’s baby who died in infancy. Polly handles that with maturity, and even accepts that Max is dying of a made-up AIDS metaphor (OoOoooo a gay person gets a deadly tropical disease!!) with grace. She has difficulty accepting that Max is a lesbian, however, and pretty much says “why don’t you keep it all in the closet.” Loads of homophobia in the book – brace yourself. One night, Max’s partner is out of town and asks Polly to keep an eye on Max. Max, in her chronic pain and fear of death, drinks too much bourbon and becomes sloppy drunk in her fear and confusion. She cries and laughs and falls over and asks Polly if she is afraid, which she is. According to everyone else’s review of this book, Max “makes a pass” at Polly in this scene. I have read and re-read this bit probably 10 times now, and I don’t see it. It is so deeply buried that it is like it didn’t happen. I spent the majority of my time reading this book wondering why Polly was so traumatized by Max getting wasted and wondering why in the world Polly didn’t help Max get some water and get into bed. I guess I can see a thinly veiled reference when Max says something about being just like her father, but this is all very vague and very confusing. I reject this homosexuality = pedophilia plotline, if it is true. Again, if it is true that Max was making a pass at Polly, I do not think that the great climax of the novel should be Polly forgiving Max & calling her to tell her she loves her. If Max is preying on a 16-year-old, Polly should keep her distance. Overall, Max was the only character I liked in the book and I don’t see why L’Engle would take pains to get her readers to accept and love a gay couple only to have them turn out to be pedophiles.

2. Renny. Max introduces Renny and Polly, which is the only fault I can see with Max in the book in my current understanding of it. Renny is at least 25, but likely in his late 20s. No one seems to think it is a problem that he is dating 16- or 17-year-old Polly and making out with her regularly. Then, when Polly is in an emotional state of shock and at her most physically and emotionally vulnerable, he seduces and sleeps with her. This is not only statutory rape, it is manipulative, selfish, and coercive. The sex is unprotected, and I am pretty sure Polly was still crying when he started kissing her. Renny realizes that what he did was wrong and that he could go to jail for this, but Polly has zero problem with this situation and fixates on Max’s betrayal instead of this actual betrayal. I shocked at how this relationship was handled in the book – Renny comes out as a comforting hero, rather than the creep he is.

3. Zachary. Zachary is a sexist, chauvinistic asshat and pretty much every review I’ve seen agrees with me on this, so I won’t spend too much time on him. I will say, however, that I understand being so emotionally vulnerable and unsure of myself that I entertained a complete douche-bag.

4. Omio. Omio is written as a healing character who helps Polly forgive and move on. In reality he is a married man who seeks out Polly to develop emotional and physical intimacy with her – he holds her hand as they walk to the beach together, he kisses her eyelids as she is crying, and he asks for something of hers so he can always have a piece of her. When she understandably falls for him, he claims he told her that he is married with a kid, and all he ever wanted was friendship. We are supposed to read this as a cultural difference, by the way. Polly does all of this internal work to blame herself for “demanding” too much of her friendship with Omio, as if his un-boundaried, flirtatious, and intimate actions were not at fault. It is this confusing and unhelpful relationship that “helps” her forgive Max, which makes no sense to me.

I like the idea of a book that teaches a young, sheltered girl that humans are complex & complicated, but L’Engle did a poor job of that. I feel like this book should be title “A House Full of Sexual Predators.”

[Catherine King · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a beautiful book with so much to offer, but my God, I want to revise it over and over until it rests comfortably in the 21st century. There are some instances where texts that are trying to be progressive age all the worse for their forward-thinking statements, and sadly A House Like a Lotus is one of them.

This book was a formative influence on me growing up. I read it when I was twelve and was, well, deeply freaked out by the sex n' violence in it -- nothing on a level of what I expect from a L'Engle. I was not quite as sheltered as Polly, but it was pretty close. I reacted to Max's lesbianism with the same progression that Polly did. Max's breakdown freaked me out, as did the sex scene with Renny. I put the book down after finishing it with a skeevy feeling, and refused to count it, or An Acceptable Time, with the Time Quartet.

I read the book again when I was eighteen. Now I was closing the chapter on high school, and with a more mature perspective I could put Max and Renny and the rest into perspective, and the ending of forgiveness and grace rang true with me. I realized just how much this book had influenced my personal morality, without my even realizing it -- when the shock had faded, I was still left with a profound respect for the complicated, contradictory nature of other people, and driven to attempt understanding, love, and forgiveness. A++ to Madeleine L'Engle in that regard. When her mysticism and true sense of agape shines through (as in Osia Theola's vision in the last few pages), this book is nearly transcendent.

Now, six more years have passed. At twenty-four, I reread the book, in preparation for giving An Acceptable Time another go.

I should add, a twenty-four year old who has lived abroad, whose hobbies include reading up on discourses of race, feminism, and queerness on tumblr.


Where before I was nodding along with Polly and empathizing with her struggles to accept Max's queer identity, now I was very nearly yelling at her to get over herself and not be so terrified that she might be queer herself. (Although wanting to avoid giving fuel to the bullies, that is a motive I can get.)
I know that this novel was groundbreaking and daring and brave for its time, but that has not really helped it to read any easier in the year 2014.
I cannot express how frustrating it is that the Murry-O'Keefe family* spend half of the novel assuring themselves and each other that it's OKAY for Polly to hang out with a lesbian, that of course they trust Max with Polly, then Max assures Polly that she loves her "like a daughter," that Polly is in no danger from Max whatsoever -- until the climax, where Max clearly** makes a sexual assault on Polly, which sends Polly into a tailspin of pain, risky behavior, coldness, and angst. The only redemption for this at all is that L'Engle sets up that Max is (bitterly) repeating the cycle of mistakes that her own father made, which cost Max's sister her life. That takes it out of implying "Queer women are disgusting and secretly lust for teenagers!" into "People repeat their parents' mistakes; ah, Greek Tragedy," which is comparatively more palatable.

* And I still do not see the angry and wilfull Meg Murry I so love in this contented, un-academic, peaceful mother of seven. Only occasionally do I glimpse the Meg of Wrinkle et alia.

** Actually, it's not very clear at all. Polly's reaction (though consistent and well written) is not on a level with what the prose describes.

Queron Renier may actually take the cake for having aged badly as characters go. As L'Engle writes him, he is this painfully bland, goody-goody all-American good Boy Next Door, a boy that Polly's parents approve of and trust, and they are right to do so -- right up until he has sex with Polly, a patient in his care, who is deep in shock, trying desperately to prove to herself that she's not a lesbian***, did I mention DEEP IN SHOCK and CLEARLY UNABLE TO GIVE INFORMED CONSENT. After which, he's all properly remorseful, slips in that he's been "lusting after Polly all summer" -- he, a twenty-something medical intern, she, a sixteen-year-old girl. I found myself yelling some very unpleasant names at Renny as the novel went on. Yikes, gross, get him away from this novel, Ew.

And as Mari Ness pointed out in her reread, the question of forgiving Renny is never brought up. Polly never explicitly realizes that Renny did anything wrong. You'd think the great healer Aesculapius would have some choice words for a guy who took such liberties with his patient.

*** I repeat, Polly, get a grip on yourself and embrace your inner bisexual goddess. Ffs.

While I'm on the subject, I don't much care for Omio, either. I'm suspicious of the idea that marrying someone of a nation that has done you wrong can mean you've completely forgiven that nation; and that a married man with a child takes such liberties with Polly's personal space, with such overt romantic gestures -- ew, ew, ew, no, I've lived in France, and married men hitting on single and solitary young women isn't cool even when a Frenchman does it.



And then we have Zachary. Oh, Zachary. I'm really fond of that guy, actually. His constant nihilism and angst and utter, absolute self-absorption is pretty hilarious. If Polly is Celia from As You Like It, Zachary is like Jacques -- convinced he's the melancholy and brooding hero when everyone else is rolling their eyes SO HARD. He also does a hell of a better job of respecting Polly's boundaries than Renny or Omio does (this is not saying much; Zachary still spouts BS like "If you're not a virgin, why won't you have sex with me waaah"), Zachary is a big bundle of issues and terrible decisions, but I can't help but like him.

The convention organizers for the Cyprus convention -- I really wish the novel spent more time with them, and not with Renny (blech) or Omio (-_-). This convention sadly betrays another instance of L'Engle's progressiveness failing to age well -- that the various cultures, especially Baki, are alluded to with a mystical, exotic air, like the Noble Savage that after describing two black women, a black man, and a Greek man in a room, Polly-the-narrator then hails a white guy entering the room by saying that he looks "normal" -- ouch. Somehow the Africans at a literature conference haven't heard of Shakespeare, even though they are proficient in English. Huh. Polly's conversations with Max don't fare much better, with Max at one point saying "My god, they are always shooting each other in that part of the world" -- a truly ridiculous statement in a country with gun laws as lax as the United States, also, way to reduce an entire region to violence and instability, thanks.

L'Engle's preachiness grates occasionally. Children talking about the partying antics of their peers with such refined detachment, a conversation about tourists destroying everything, which then slides cleanly into casual talk about genocide, en route to a moonlit swim -- what. I can see why this book would turn off a first-time reader, or a skeptic, or someone who holds all media up to a very high standard of inclusivity and representation.

But if the book could be revised of these problematic elements (if Max's tragic flaw was alcoholism and, say, art fraud, rather than sexual assault), or if they could be clarified or addressed properly (Renny brought to justice, Zachary being not-quite-as-much-of-a-jerk), if L'Engle could rewrite the novel seeing the world as it is now, it could be hailed as what it is at its best -- a moving, graceful, and beautiful bildungsroman about forgiveness, connection, and the ability to let people be complicated, and love them despite all that.

Yes, this book needed a review this long. For a book with this complicated a legacy on my own soul, if nowhere else, I needed to keep all of the facets -- the complex and contradictory facets -- in hand, like Osia Theola's astonishing vision.

[Sarah · Rating 1 out of 5]

Note: I originally gave this about 2 stars (and said so in my Q1 wrap up on booktube), but after writing out this review, I couldn't give it anymore than 1. Just...no.

Alright, so y'all know I love Madeleine L'Engle. She wrote my all-time favorite book (A Wrinkle in Time) and I love pretty much the entire rest of the series as well (pretty indifferent about book 5), but this? This did not at all feel like a Madeleine L'Engle book, to the point that if I didn't know it was written by her, I never would've guessed that it was.

This is the third and final book in the O'Keefe Family series and, once again, we spend most of our time hanging out with Polly. Considering I've now read eight of Madeleine L'Engle's books and I super love the four that have to do with other characters and feel pretty 'meh' about or dislike the ones with Polly as our heroine, maybe I just don't like Polly as a character? IDK.

In comparison to the main characters in the Time Quintet, Polly feels quite underdeveloped. I felt this way last year when I read An Acceptable Time. In hindsight, one should probably read this trilogy before reading An Acceptable Time, but since all the novels are technically standalone stories, the development of the characters should be self-contained as well in the sense that you get more growth if you read all the books, but no one feels underdeveloped if you only read one.

This is the only book in the series (and the only of L'Engle's fiction books I've read so far) that is written in first person, which is just odd. It really doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me to write the first two books in third and the last in first, particularly because it then feels like a totally different writing style, which I was really not a big fan of. But beyond my issues with Polly's development and writing and such, my biggest issues were related to the events of the story itself.

The story starts with Polly going on a trip to Greece and then to Cyprus. You learn pretty quickly that this trip was arranged by her friend Max and also that Max betrayed her in some way and she hasn't found it in her heart to forgive her yet. As you progress through the story, you flip back and forth between what Polly is doing in the present and the development of her friendship with Max. As a result, it takes a pretty long time to finally figure out what the big betrayal was and when we finally got there? I couldn't help but wonder why it was such a big deal. Something specific would've had to be part of the big betrayal for Polly's anger and frustration to make sense, and it's in no way implied or explicitly stated that that thing happened. So it just felt off.

On top of that, in the development of her friendship with Max and during her present day time on Greece and Cyprus, we learn that Polly, who is 16-years-old, has relationships of some kind with multiple guys who are in their early or mid-20s. One of them is technically approved by her parents, but it still made me feel alllll kinds of squicky and uncomfortable. Particularly with Zachary, the guy in Greece, there's a lot of emotional manipulation that takes place which is never okay, but is especially uncomfortable to read about when there's already the displaced power dynamic of an adult male and a teenage female. The more I read about what happens between Polly and Zachary and Polly and the guy back home (blanking on his name right now), the more I kept thinking, "Did Madeleine L'Engle really write this?"

So basically, I'd skip this book. It really doesn't add anything to other L'Engle stories other than introduce the relationship between Polly and Zachary, which resurfaces in An Acceptable Time, but I also feel like you could just treat the Time Quintet as a quartet and skip book five, so yea...skip this one. Skip An Acceptable Time and you won't miss anything except poor character development and squicky relationships that make you question how a beloved author could write something like this.

[Han · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book was fraught with problems - in a way that might negatively influence a naive reader. My conservative parent is an ardent fan of L’engle’s and has this book on her bookshelf. When I picked it up, I was repelled and saddened by the blatant homophobia and L’engle’s non-existent attempt to understand and empathize with Max (the lesbian character) while making her one of the main protagonists. In the end, Max becomes a drunken, aggressive, and predatory mess (the predatory part is indeed framed that way by the author) - basically, affirming that Polly should have listened to her “betters” who had raised cautionary tones about Max and her lesbianism. Since I loved the O’Keefe family when I was little, their views on Max really cut me to bits and left me disappointed. I am sure this book and The Small Rain shaped my parent’s view of the LGBTQ community, as she views them in pretty much the same manner that L’engle does.

The other big issue I take with this book is the weird rape-ish scene with however-old-he-is Renny and under-18 Polly. I think L’engle was trying to pass it off as a heated romantic encounter, but I felt incredibly uncomfortable reading it - and I am no prude by any measure. It really felt like Renny was taking advantage of Polly after she had her traumatic encounter with the drunken, raving Max (sigh) and there was no word of consent on Polly’s part - she instead talks about how her body begins to feel strange as Remy just basically sticks it in. Umm. It brought me similar feelings as the big rape scene in Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead - is the (female) author saying that the female protagonist sort of wants it despite the aggression and lack of consent? And how is this impacting impressionable minds reading this drivel? Also, statutory rape?

By this time I was feeling awful for L’engle’s protagonist, who was at the mercy of an author who doesn’t seem to know how to treat her better and gives her a pretty shitty lens to the world around her. Incidentally, I did also have issues with the way Polly was treated in An Acceptable Time as well, as well as Polly herself overall - she comes across to me as a pretty vacant character with hardly any agency of her own. Which, of course, opens discourse on L’engle’s female protagonists overall, starting with Meg O’Keefe, but I digress.

Oh, and I agree with everyone here saying that they are tired of Zachary Grey or Gray, however you spell that. That pointless piece of not-even-plot-device (who basically is around to be self-obsessed and beautiful?) can fuck right off.

[Emily Clifford · Rating 1 out of 5]

I love what Madeleine L'Engle can bring to the table: scientific and faith-based exploration by awkward characters in the midst of a chaotic world. I've been reading deeper and deeper into her catalogue and unfortunately, it hasn't really paid off in this book.

Pros: Polly is a character who has generally different experiences and relationships than most mainstream American kids, so that's kind of food for thought. With Zachary, she is able to be in romantic situations without following them to sexland--cool. Her parents/uncles are approachable and even-keeled about pretty much every issue that most parents go into hysterics over--it's not that they endorse those issues but they'd rather talk through it. The title holds a great concept--how arrangements of people can unfold and create intensely significant environments for growth and development.

Cons: Zachary Gray. Everything he does or says falls flat and is predictable about 1,000,000 miles away. I didn't appreciate the ominous overtones about the terrible betrayal--it was poorly integrated and brought back awful memories of THE LOVE LETTERS. I felt that in A WRINKLE IN TIME series, you encountered weird characters that were actually pretty relate-able. Here, there's all these seemingly normal characters who ends up totally not connecting to the audience. By the time the big forgiveness theme is unrolled, I was disgusted and conflicted about it.

[Sandra · Rating 3 out of 5]

My second-least-favorite of L'Engle's children's or young adults' books, although it wasn't torture to finish (as, if my memory serves, The Moon by Night was). In fact, I thought it was one of L'Engle's adult novels, because I remember reading it (or trying to) many years ago and finding it completely uninteresting; my memory of it was that it was an adult novel, and a boring one at that; so imagine my surprise when I found that it's part of the O'Keefe chronicles.

A House Like a Lotus is a book of ideas, of conversations, of relationships . . . but it's lacking in the compelling plots of her other books for young people (I can't speak to her novels for adults). I completely agree with much of what L'Engle offers as good ethical standards for young people, but at times this book felt really didactic; the "this-is-a-good-family and here's-how-good-people-act" aspects are in all of her books, to some degree, but here it can be heavy-handed. Still, I definitely enjoyed it enough to finish it, although I was anxious to finish it so I could move on to the last book in the O'Keefe family books.

Polly O'Keefe, who is 16 (but soon to be 17, we hear numerous times) is going to Cyprus to be a sort of intern at a conference. She was referred to this "job" by a good friend, Max (female), who also paid her airfare since the family of 7 children and 2 parents doesn't have lots of extra cash. So this is her journey, with lots of flashes back to the year prior to her leaving. Unfortunately, the plot just isn't exciting enough. We learn early on that Polly feels betrayed by someone, but it turns out that the "betrayal" is sort of silly and way overblown. It's not easy when the defining event in a book seems so insubstantial.

It doesn't help that some of the characters just aren't that appealing. Polly has a questionable relationship with Renny, a doctor, for goodness' sakes. This was 1984 and she is 16. [Raised eyebrows.] And then there's Zachary Grey, a glamorous, good-looking boy, but he's just not likeable enough that we can feel from the inside why Polly likes him so much.

I do admire that L'Engle grapples with the topic of gender identity in A House Like a Lotus, and she does fairly well, although there's a telling moment when Mr. O'Keefe seems to want to make sure that Polly is, using a phrase unknown at the time, cisgender, which takes a little of the positive impact away.

Some things just didn't seem believable to me. Polly knows way more than, I would argue, any 16-year-old would know about art, philosophy, science, human relationships, etc., etc. In one scene, when she first arrives in Athens, Polly remembers "the ugly Americans Max had talked about," and then takes note of the "junky gift shops, phony icons, sleazy clothes and pictures of American credit cards on the glass fronts of the doors." OK, she's travelled a lot. That's not completely out of the realm of possibility. But then: "One souvenir shop had a sign reading, "Welcome, Hadassah," and was recommended by some Jewish Association. I wouldn't have been surprised to find a shop window with a commendation by the Pope, or another by the World Council of Churches. I didn't like it. But that was judgmental of me. I still didn't like it" (22).

In addition to everything else, Polly knows of the World Council of Churches, which seems unlikely to me; this sounds like an older adult jaded by travel, not like a teen girl.

And then sometimes L'Engle wants to have her cake and eat it too:

Max was, theologically, heterodox. Religion, Max said, is divisive, and went on to cite the [religious] horrors going on between [everybody of every religious group]. If we could forget religion, Max said, and remember God, we might have a more reasonable world.
[But then:] Max liked reading aloud, and had read to me from books written in the very early days of Christianity, works by Gregory of Nyssa and Basil the Great and Clement of Alexandria, because their world was like ours, changing rapidly, with the Roman Empire falling apart around them." (23)

Am I the only person who (1) sees a contradiction (or, at least, I just don't see a seriously "spiritual but not religious" person reading Gregory of Nyssa and Clement of Alexandra out loud, to a 16-year-old, no less. Again, we have L'Engle inserting the kind of conversation she'd love to have with someone, but she was definitely not young when she wrote this.

OK, let's move on: Polly is in Athens, and can see the Parthenon from her room:

I looked at the ancient stones and wondered what all those centuries did to our own troubled time--put it in more cosmic perspective perhaps? But even if the Acropolis speaks of he pettiness and brevity of our mortal lives, while our lives are going on they matter. (48)

Good point, except coming out of Polly, not credible. Later, she asks "Did healed scars ever break open again? Get adhesions? Could one get adhesions on the soul?" (175) Her father is a scientist, not a doctor, so she knows lots of science; that's good. But I can't think of even a handful of 16-year-olds who would know what adhesions were, since, for the most part, even their grandparents probably wouldn't have dealt with post-surgical adhesions, and if they did, they wouldn't burden their dear grandchildren with it.

When Polly is reading a book and then makes observations informed by those books, it's more believable, but still feels a bit didactic. When her uncle Sandy uses the word "pusillanimous," same thing. Believable, possibly, but way too obviously a tidbit to educate her readers. Which all good literature does, I believe, but you just don't notice it.

All that said, I liked much of the "speechifying." "Dreams are messages," Max said. "But don't get faddy about them. Take them seriously, but not earnestly. It can be a form of self-indulgence if you overdo it." 174. I like that. Or when Polly defines the soul to Max (again, rather hard to swallow, even if it is a good definition that I might steal some time).

"'Do you believe in the soul, Polly?' Max never hesitated to ask cosmic questions out of the blue.
'Yes.' I thought maybe she'd turn her scorn on me, but she didn't.
[Max]'So, what is it, this thing called soul?' [Don't forget, this is Max asking a 16-year-old.]
[Polly] This scarred thing, full of adhesions. 'It's--it's your you and my me.'
[Max] 'What do you mean by that?'
[Polly] 'It's what makes us us, different from anybody else in the world.'
[Max] 'Like snowflakes? . . .'
[Pplly] 'More than snowflakes. The soul isn't--ephemeral.' [blah blah etc. etc.]
. . . 'So it's us, at our highest and least self-conscious.'"182-183

Great material; really, it's an interesting definition of the soul, which I have a hard time defining. I wish Max had asked Polly what the Trinity is; I could use it next Sunday in my sermon, I'm sure, since Polly is wise and has read Wikipedia, from start to finish. Once you've read the church fathers and all the other theology ever written, you've got to find something else, right?

For die-hard L'Engle fans, I'd definitely recommend A House Like a Lotus. You kind of have to read it. It's part of the O'Keefe books! But be warned: this book does a great job of filling out some details about the O'Keefe family, of Polly in particular, which is good since she is central in the O'Keefe books. And it's got some great philosophy, theology, ethics, history . . . but you aren't going to race through it like some of M.L.'s books.

[Natalia · Rating 1 out of 5]

I have absolutely zero idea what happened to this book (and/or the author) while it was being written. If you told me that L’Engle hadn’t actually written “A House Like A Lotus” I wouldn’t be surprised.
The entire tone of the book is different from all the others, the characters are utterly shallow, and the flashbacks are somewhat more interesting than the present!
So, what happens in “A House Like a Lotus”, the crashing sequel to “Dragons in the Waters” and “The Arm of the Starfish”? I’ll give it to you as I gave it to my younger sister of considerable good sense.

A girl named Polly goes to Greece and is picked up by this guy named Zachary. (And this is supposed to be okay?) Zachary is a terrible jerk, but is portrayed in a somewhat positive light. Meanwhile, before she went to Greece, she discovered that her aunt figure/family friend was lesbian. Did I mention that a tropical disease that couldn’t be cured was killing her?

Put that on top of the fact, she’s seeing a guy at least ten years older and that goes completely off the rails. Polly has very little sense and excepting some great quotes about homeschooling, this book can be summed up exactly how my sister summed it up—

“So, a tropical disease that can’t be cured is killing her lesbian aunt?”

[Faith · Rating 1 out of 5]

Gah. This was seriously the probable worst book I've ever read. I picked it up praying it would be as wonderful and the Time quartet; it wasn't. Everything I loved about the quartet- the family themes, the love story without it being a romance, the purity, the amazing plot, how different it was- was lost in this book. There was none of the family love in this book, she fell for an arrogant jerk, was extremely unfaithful, there was no element of purity whatsoever throughout the book, and quite honestly there was no plot. There were hundreds of times I wanted to yell "You have no right whatsoever to be in the amazing family you were born into!" She sure didn't act like she cared about her family, and that was my favorite part of the Quartet. It was uninteresting and seemed very ordinary, and even the writing wasn't good. What happened to the writing I read in A Swiftly Tilting Planet? Beautiful, lyrical, poetic, able to make me laugh or cry. What happened to the loveable characters, what happened to the people I cared about? Instead we get Poly- one of the most irritating characters I have ever encountered.

[Jennifer · Rating 1 out of 5]

Bent Book (presents good as bad and bad as good). I was terribly dissapointed and even angry when I finished this. I felt betrayed by the author. Near the end, the author introduces homosexuality and pre-marital sex and presents them as good.

[Hezekiah · Rating 2 out of 5]

There's a lot to unpack here, especially with respect to sexual assault, grooming and CSA.

I want to preface my review by emphasizing that I do think it's possible to write a book where multiple grown adults make sexual advances toward a 16-year-old, the 16-year-old doesn't think the adults did anything wrong, and the narrative still makes it very clear that the adults were in the wrong even if the 16yo doesn't think so, because of power dynamics and grooming. This is not a book that successfully communicates "All of these people were in the wrong, not just the obviously creepy ones."

It's really seriously concerning to me that the narration seemingly makes excuses for these 20something aged men openly expressing to a 16 year old girl that they want to fuck her because she's "so mature" that they "forget" she's 16. If you're in your 20s and you "forget" someone's 16, that's a huge red flag for grooming.

What was L'Engle thinking when she wrote a scene where Polly, having run away from an attempted sexual assault and having been groped by a classmate hours later, tells Remy (sp) what happened and Remy wordlessly undresses her and thinks "now is the time to ~make love~ to Polly"... And the narrative presents this as a healing experience for Polly. Where she seems to dissociate.

(I'm not denying that sexual activity can be a healing experience after sexual assault, but at the bare minimum the person who had the trauma needs to independently communicate "I want to do this", the other person needs to constantly and explicitly check in and be ready to abruptly stop without judgment if the person with trauma dissociates or wants to stop for any reason, and they need to have some kind of aftercare and debriefing. And both people need to be near enough in age that there isn't a power dynamic where grooming is possible, like between a doctor doing his residency and a 16-year-old, or between a college junior and a high school junior.)

Even though Remy the next day says it was wrong of him to pursue Polly sexually, he blames Polly in a way and repeats that she's so Mature™ that he "forgot" she was a minor. The authorial commentary on this seems to be that it's a potentially valid excuse for sexual advances toward minors, and the narrative appears to want us to sympathize with Polly, who in that particular moment doesn't think Remy did anything wrong. I'm seriously questioning what L'Engle was thinking in this book ostensibly written for an intended audience of teens near Polly's age.

Zachary is much more forward with his intentions toward Polly but I worry that his function in the narrative was partly to make Remy look better. Zachary makes Polly feel uncomfortable and he repeatedly crosses boundaries in ways the narrative does hint are inappropriate, but the narrative doesn't seem to present Zachary's "I won't do anything you don't want me to" as a problem. It's a big problem when the responsibility is put fully on the recipient of sexual advances to stop unwanted ones, because it feeds into the idea that men are just unable to control themselves and if a man crosses a woman's boundary it's her fault for not stopping him. It's unclear if the authorial commentary actually disagrees with this, because it's made clear that Polly's classmate in the truck scene was being inappropriate, that it wasn't Polly's fault when Max attacked her, and that Zachary should stop hassling Polly about sex.

In the time L'Engle grew up, it was an established social script that in order to say yes to premarital sex, a woman would need to be coy and flirtily say no, but Zachary is interpreting Polly's discomfort (from her very recent trauma of three people making inappropriate or unwanted sexual advances toward her within the same 24 hour period, which she understandably doesn't want to describe to a guy who repeatedly expresses his annoyance at her saying she's not ready for sex with him) as her just being coy.

Zachary's sexual intentions toward Polly are also not presented as inappropriate even though he's implied to be like, 20? They're closer in age than Remy and Polly but there's still a power dynamic involved and their age difference is enough that Zachary knows he'd be breaking the law. No one but a groomer will compliment someone they're pursuing with "you're so mature for your age that I forget you're only 16."

I also found it very difficult to understand L'Engle's decision process for why everyone insists that Polly should forgive Max just because Max is a dying old woman who only tried to attack her when drunk, and Polly does just that in the end. The authorial commentary on this seems to be "drunk people aren't themselves" and "it's wrong to suddenly cut ties with a dying elderly person no matter what." I found it troubling that Ursula seemed to know that Max was a predator when drunk, and nothing in the narrative indicates that a reader should find it disturbing that everyone views Max as not responsible for her actions when drunk.

I also found it troubling that in the flashback Polly has to a time when a classmate exposed himself and assaulted her in the lunch line in elementary/middle school, Meg's response is to tell Polly the same thing happened to her and that there's nothing anyone could have done (uh, the boy could have NOT assaulted her). I know that at the time of publication, schools wouldn't have done anything , but it's so bleak and horrible that the authorial commentary here is that you have to accept it and move on, while the aggressor faces no consequences and isn't even told they need to respect boundaries. I can't imagine how a reader with CSA trauma before my time would have responded to this incredibly bleak outlook on how girls should expect their boundaries to be treated by boys, and by adults in their lives going forward, and that they just have to suffer through it and move on.

This whole book can be summed up as "At least four people fail to respect Polly's boundaries and bodily autonomy, at least three adults groom her, and the narrative commentary is that legality and potential pregnancy are the only problems when an adult makes sexual advances toward a minor they've groomed to want it. Also if a sick dying person attempts to assault you, you're obligated to forgive them and continue having an interpersonal relationship with them because they're dying." What on earth was L'Engle thinking??

It's difficult to tease out which parts of this book would have been radically progressive, because the ultimate conclusion of Polly forgiving Max muddles any possibility of suggesting that Polly deserved to have her boundaries unquestionably accepted by all the adults in her life. Perhaps it was radical to have a complex and sensitive portrayal of lesbians, where even though one was dying, the relationship was portrayed as the same kind of bond shared by a married man and woman? I didn't get the impression that L'Engle wanted readers to come away thinking that gay people are inherently predatory, because Polly's parents' opinions about lesbians would have been considered radical acceptance and the narrative presents Max's actions as due to her trauma of witnessing her father sexually abusing her sister.

I'm not sure if the narrative is suggesting that Max's not forgiving her father, or her frequently expending energy on a grudge, made her become like him. That would explain the ultimate message of it being important for Polly to forgive Max, but the narrative's message there could also be explained by the kind of radical forgiveness expected in many types of Christianity. But the meaning of forgiveness in the narrative seems to be saying "You did nothing wrong" or "You didn't cause me harm," instead of "You hurt me but I'm not holding a grudge." Or the narrative seems to be expressing that cutting someone out of your life counts as a grudge, even if it's to preserve your own safety and well-being.

Tldr: What was L'Engle thinking??

[RuthAnn · Rating 4 out of 5]

I first read this book in high school, and I remember it distinctly as the first I'd read that tackled homosexuality. I was startled at first and then moved forward. When I was a younger reader, L'Engle helped me encounter and work through new things in a safe environment. Now, re-reading as an adult, I can appreciate that the story is not about homosexuality, not really. It's about broken trust and where we put our dependence. As I read, I wondered, "Is this a young adult book?" I had always mentally categorized it there because Polly (extra L now!) is the main character, but it actually felt more like an adult, literary fiction novel to me this time. Maybe I would say it's best for mature YA readers, but maybe what I'm really saying is: this book is good for adults, too. There's depth here that reminds me A Live Coal in the Sea, which is certainly for adults.

[Katie Fitzgerald · Rating 5 out of 5]

This review also appears on my blog, Read-at-Home Mom.

Polyhymnia “Polly” O’Keefe has been given an unexpected opportunity. Maximiliana “Max” Horne, an older woman who lives near Polly’s home on Benne Seed Island, has taken a special interest in mentoring her. As part of this mentorship, Max has arranged for Polly to visit Greece, and to work as a go-fer at an international literary conference on Cyprus. While in Athens, Polly becomes acquainted with Zachary Grey, who is as charming and as undesirable as ever, and she does her best to work through her feelings about the terrible way Max betrayed her before she left home.

Throughout the time I have been reading each of L’Engle’s Austin/Murry/O’Keefe books, I have favored Vicky over Polly. Though both girls are portrayed as somehow special, Vicky has always seemed more believable and relatable, while Polly has always struck me as too perfect and too unrealistically good. This story is the first one where Polly has actually seemed like a human being. I was pleased by this for the sake of this particular story, because I enjoyed spending time with a main character who had some layers and some emotional depth. When considering the continuity of the overall series, however, the Polly of A House Like a Lotus is not the same Polly of the earlier books. Polly actually reminds me a lot of Vicky in this book - which is fine with me, because I like Vicky, but somewhat odd when one views the entire series as a unit. I read one interesting blog post where Mari Ness of Tor.com speculates that L’Engle may have actually set out to tell this story about Vicky, not Polly, and then changed her mind when she realized it would be difficult to cause pain to a character she identifies with so closely. That argument makes a ton of sense to me, and as Ness points out, it would explain why we’re forced to put up with Zachary Grey again.

Ness’s post and many others that I read also share another common interpretation of this book that I have to admit I totally missed. We are told in the book that Max is a lesbian, a fact which causes varied reactions from Polly, her parents, her siblings and the kids at Polly’s school. At the critical moment where Polly feels so horribly betrayed by Max, it seems that everyone - Wikipedia, Goodreads reviewers, and authors of scholarly articles - believes Max has made a sexual pass at Polly. I did sort of expect something like that to happen, based on how upset Polly was and how long it took her in the narration to get around to describing the night of her betrayal, but I have read the passage where it happens at least ten times, and I still don’t see definite textual evidence that Max did anything to Polly other than drink too much and scare her. It makes sense to assume that more happened, but had I not read anything about this book before posting this review, I never would have realized that Max made any sort of overture toward Polly.

Despite its weirdness, though, I really loved this book. I enjoyed catching up with the O’Keefes, and learning of the latest additions to their family. I thought Polly’s relationship with Renny was sweet, though a bit strange given their age difference. The flashbacks to the growth of Polly’s friendship with Max were very effective, and I enjoyed moving back and forth in time as Polly reflects on what has happened and does her best to forgive. I also appreciated the obviously Christian message about forgiveness. Polly desperately wants to forgive Max, but she must first work very realistically through her layers of grief. I appreciated that there is never any doubt as to whether Max should be forgiven, but that it is still difficult for Polly to get in touch with her again. I also thought the second part of the book, where Polly attends the conference was a bit touchy-feely, but also moving in its own way. Most of the characters didn’t seem realistic, but there was still something interesting about the way these people from so many different places became like a family to Polly and to each other.

A House Like a Lotus has its problems and its critics, but I would place it in my top five of the L’Engle books I have read so far, and I would say it is my favorite of the O’Keefe series. I am actually looking forward to seeing Polly again in An Acceptable Time, and I’m eager to finish this reading exercise, hopefully by the end of this summer. Only three titles left - Many Waters, An Acceptable Time, and Troubling a Star.

[Patricia Burroughs · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is so tough for me to put a number on. It reveals the warts and failures of Madeleine L'Engle's views on subjects that are very much in the forefront today, and if you judge her by current standards--or even 21st Century standards--this book has major flaws.

The way a lesbian's relationship is described to his daughter when she is distressed to hear about it is loving and for many if not most people at that time, progressive and accepting. But not to 21st Century readers.

The mixed messages about what are appropriate and inappropriate sexual behaviour with a 16-year-old female are unenlightened and in the midst of today's earthshaking and long overdue #metoo movement, alarming.

I can read this as a 21st Century woman and mark it down for this, way down. In fact, trying to figure how far down to mark it confused me even more.

I believe that were Madeleine l'Engle alive today she'd be as progressive as she was for her time. The fact that the feminist and gay rights movements were already vocal and she could have/should have been exposed enough to them to have more enlightened views may be enough to make this book a big no for many readers.

The fact that when this book that was published in 1984 she was exposing the broad youth population to a warm and loving acceptance of lesbians as friends, mentors, protectors who were written in practical, human nonsteretypical fashion [until one horrifying exception] goes far with me, but certainly may not with others.

I have googled various reviews of this book including some recent ones. It's definitely a book that still gets attention. I've seen it loved, reviled, and met with a range of reactions between. It's a book I'd love to have as book club discussion book if I were in a book club. Since I'm not [nor do I want to be] I'd love to see how friends view it.

Note: I read about this book, along with Judy Blume's, in an article about the time when YA dealt with sex as a natural act that teenagers might explore as part of their maturing process without dire consequences. So I came into it with that specific thought in mind and having read it, wonder if the author of said article was reflecting the memories of what these books meant to her in her youth without a recent reread.

Finally, I read the theory that this book was never meant to be about Meg and Calvin's daughter Polly, but was originally meant to be about Vicky Austin. It's presumptuous to make such an assumption, but it's interesting for sure.

"This is not the brash, confident, more than occasionally tactless Polly O’Keefe of her two earlier appearances. Rather, this is a somber, doubtful Polly O’Keefe, unsure of her place in the world, unsure of what she wants to be when she grows up, enthralled with poetry. In fact, this is, in all respects, Vicky Austin, right down to the more beautiful, more popular younger sister—here transformed into a cousin Kate—and the brother she feels closer to. So close is the resemblance that I am more than half convinced that this book was originally meant to be the next book in the Austin series (which may help to explain why the always annoying Zachary Grey showed up to irritate readers in this book) until L’Engle realized that she just could not do certain things to Vicky, a character she very closely identified with."

https://www.tor.com/2012/02/23/the-ne...

Finally, editing to add that many have commented on the structure of the book as she goes back and forth between her time in Greece and the events that brought her there. I loved that aspect of it. We know something traumatic happened to her at home in South Carolina that she is hoping to assimilate and deal with in Greece. As each scene from the past is revealed, we are led or misled into what that betrayal might have been. As a suspense structure I thought it worked particularly well, and enhanced the telling of the story.

[Robyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Warning: Here be spoilers!

I read this when I was a teenager. I remember being enthralled and a little disturbed and confused. I was looking for something to read in the doctor's waiting room and decided to download this and read it.

As an adult reader I notice that all the major characters in the novel are all amazing overachievers, brilliant, all charming, all at the tops of their careers, all who give our main character their full and thoughtful attention, all with seemingly good intentions. If only we could all grow up in that world.

Polly O'Keefe is the daughter of Meg and Calvin (of A Wrinkle in Time). She flies to Athens as a gift from Max, whose calls she is dodging. Flashbacks of the past year fill us in on Renny, the internist who buys pizza for Polly and kisses her, and an implied trauama, while she explores Athens with a handsome young Zachary, whose father is implied to be evil and incredibly wealthy. When she leaves Athens to go to the conference she's been hired for as a gofer, she meets another handsome man who also flirts with her but to her horror eventually reveals that he is married.

Both messy and neat. I'm puzzled that Polly's parents aren't more cautious of their 16-year old daughter spending time with a man in his mid-20s, even though he's a perfectly lovely man who generally exhibits restraint.

Eventually we learn that Polly was the subject of what seems to be drunken pass by a much older friend of the family, someone she trusted deeply and who had treated her like a daughter. The traumatic event, when finally described, is still confusing - Max is drunk, says she needs "an affirmation of being," stands up, collapses, reaches for Polly and Polly flees. It's as if L'Engle can't bring herself to give this the detail it needs to explain Polly's response to it. Polly's response and context make it clear that this was an attempted sexual assault, but on paper Max just seems quite drunk and as far as we can tell is too incapacitated and weak to pose a true threat.

That said, it's understandable that Polly is traumatized. It's less understandable that the few adults in her life simply urge her to forgive and try to understand. In the end she does forgive, and calls the dying Max to say that she loves her, and it's a beautiful thing and I cried over it, but it's truly puzzling.

Despite my beefs with the book I still love it and already want to re-read it.

Big ideas/quotes:
"Love means you don't dominate or manipulate or control."
"In this body, in this town of Spirit, there is a little house shaped like a lotus, and in that house there is a little space. There is as much in that little space within the heart as there is in the whole world outside."

[David · Rating 2 out of 5]

Spoilers ahead!

As I read this book, I came to think of it as "the pedophile book." 16 year old Polly is involved in several relationships that ultimately seem inappropriate. We'll start with the easy one:

1. Renny is a 20-something medical resident who dates Polly. He limits his intimacy with her to kissing, until she experiences a traumatic event. While she's still basically in shock, he seduces and sleeps with her.

2. Zachary is a 20-something rich, college kid bumming around Europe. He sees Polly at a cafe, and follows her back to her hotel. They explore Athens together, and it's clear that he wants much more than kissing. She rejects a sexual relationship with him, but he continues to "stalk" her, following her to a conference where she'll be working.

3. Ah, then there's Max: an older (40's?) lesbian who cultivates a relationship with Polly. She claims Polly is like a daughter, but there is something creepy about her. She gets drunk, and makes a pass at Polly, who runs and is traumatized.

All three of these relationships made me flinch. They were very uncomfortable, and all came across as predatory.

At the end of all of these cringe-worthy relationships, Polly calls Max and forgives her. After all, she's dying and was drunk. So it was ok for her to make a move on Polly.

This book is in the O'Keefe series, which is sort of a sequel series to the Wrinkle in Time books (Meg, from those books, is Polly's mother). What's depressing about that is that the original characters have been reduced to uninteresting, undeveloped, cameos. After the great things Meg and Calvin did, their final contribution to the world is to spit out a bunch of kids. Sandy and Dennys? The brothers who were supposed to be "Teachers?" Yeah. They're lawyers. But they're working to save the planet, so it's ok.

I'm not even sure of what the final message was supposed to be (if there was one). Forgiveness? OK, I can see that. But you'd want to also remove all of these people from your life. Polly just goes on accepting, and ultimately playing the victim.

L'Engle can still write: the book is compelling to read, and moves along easily (even when almost nothing is happening), but it's a sad, sad postscript to her Wrinkle in Time days.

[Joan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This came very close to getting a one star rating. I found myself as annoyed as I was the last time I read it by how drawn out and agonizing the revelation of why Polly felt so wounded and victimized. When the big reveal came, I was annoyed by how minor the incident was in reality. Then I remembered the way someone, a respected person, had tried to kiss me when I was in my mid to later teens, and another man of a similar age to the first had saved me and quietly reprimanded the overly tipsy guy. However I certainly wasn’t as agitated as the heroine was.
Finally it dawned on me what the story was about: forgiveness! It is a detailed look at how hard it can be to move through the feeling of victimization and hurt until one is able to forgive. That changed my entire view of the story. While L’Engle did make the climatic scene of the injury to the girl from someone she greatly admired way too drawn out and that the injury was so much less than it could have been, the theme of forgiveness is a rare one outside of religious preaching. That torturous revelation is largely responsible for this being more like 3.5 stars. The theme of forgiveness raises it to 4 stars. As usual, L’Engle rather abruptly ends this story. Recommended for anyone who needs a reminder of the need for forgiveness. Otherwise recommended for Polly O’Keefe fans. This series should probably be read in order even though it can stand on its own. Postscript: I am surprised people apparently consider this book homophobic. The parents quite strongly tell the kids to knock off the malicious gossip about the couple. Certainly there is no explicit statement saying we disapprove of homophobia. This wasn’t the place for such a statement. The parents firmly and repeatedly state that the couple in question are their friends and are to be treated with respect. By refusing to confirm or deny the kids’ statements and questions about whether the couple had a relationship or not, the parents were showing their children that they refuse to engage in gossip, something they considered much more pernicious than sexuality.

[Courtney · Rating 2 out of 5]

I enjoy L'Engle's work, and this novel certainly had a cast of well-developed characters and many interesting descriptions. However, for me this work took a turn from the preceding two novels in this series (Poly O'Keefe). *Spoiler alert* It is essentially the story of a teenager coming to terms with a sexual assault (or rather, one very narrowly avoided). There book was written in 1984, and as such comes across as woefully out of step with current (deserved) emphasis on respect for victims. I appreciate the exploration of themes such as forgiveness, love, and vitality in the face of wrongdoing. There is also excellent portrayal of how complicated people and relationships can be. However, I would never want this book to be read as any sort of example or ideal for victims, because there is far too much emphasis on restoration with the perpetrator to the exclusion of any sense of new boundaries it emotional distance for the victim. I hope that individuals with similar experiences can all come to peace within themselves and a restored wholeness. Sadly, though, I fear this novel would hinder such progress by placing higher value on the sympathetic reasons behind aggressive actions. There is a time and place for understanding people's backstory and motivations, but it is NOT during the immediate aftermath and not a burden others should impose on the victim. I would not recommend this book.

[Catherine Gillespie · Rating 1 out of 5]

Having read so much of her non-fiction, I decided to re-read some of L’Engle’s novels.

Really, I would not recommend this book for children or even teenagers, unless you’re ready to read it with them and discuss it. While it handles some issues very well I was frankly appalled by how casually a relationship between an older man (mid to late 20s) and a 16 year old girl was handled. For one thing that the character’s parents allowed her to go out with an adult man, for another that the “love” scene was portrayed as no big deal when it was actually predatory and exploitative, to say nothing of illegal. If my child was reading about it, I would want to be sure he or she understood that a situation like that would NOT be normal, healthy, legal, or moral. It seems out of character for L’Engle to have written it, and the book itself is not as well written as her other books. I really think you could, and probably should, just skip it entirely.

{Read my full review of some L'Engle non-fiction and two of her fiction series here}

[Anne Hawn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Madeline L'Engle writes books for teens and adults. One of the best characteristics of her books is that the characters are often complex and contradictory. I feel that this book is one of the most complex of the YA genre. It deals with heroes who have feet of clay and that is something young people (and some old) need to come to terms with. This makes it a great choice for kids from about 7th grade and up. Some of the things introduced in this book allow young people to gain skills in recognizing inappropriate actions of beloved adults and explore their own reactions to the situation vicariously.

This said, it is a great book and one that should be interesting and helpful to a wide variety of kids.

[Kest Schwartzman · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book is a novel length version of someone shouting the phrase "I can't be homophobic, i have one gay friend!!!!" But also with the bonus inclusion of thinking that (hetero) pedophilia is normal and healthy.


Like. Seriously. There's just so much wrong with this book.

[Mirandi Herrenbruck · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is not for the young adult audience. Description of homosexual relations as well loss of sexual innocence is contained within this story. I was saddened by their inclusion.

[Elizabeth · Rating 2 out of 5]

I never got through this one as a kid and I barely got through it as an adult. I will not be revisiting this book.

It was disjointed. There were no elements in this book to match the rest of the Poly books (suspense) or even the greater series (the O'Keefe/ Murry series) such as time travel or fantasy or science fiction. This was just a plain old novel that dragged on. Also, I felt tricked into believing that the "Max" who hurt Polly was a boyfriend during the first few chapters... come to find out "she" is a middle aged woman!

Oh well, even my beloved Madeleine L'Engle deserves to have an off book :-)

Polly (who now spells her name with two l's) had an emotional reaction to an incident that seemed disproportionate to the incident itself- especially given that it was the driving force behind the plot line of the mysterious hurt Polly felt- her un-forgiveness etc.

Also I was very disappointed in the loss of Polly's virginity and the way it happened. I was not expecting that and I have read the book after this one a few times and there is not a reference to the incident.

I was glad to meet Zachery Grey from the Austin books and the next (and last) O'Keefe/ Murry book.

The title of this book comes from The Upanishads: "In this body, in this town of Spirit, there is a little house shaped like a lotus, and in that house there is a little space. There is as much in that little space within the heart as there is in the whole world outside."

[Rebekah Hajj · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book contains so many problematic elements in its message and structure that I could go on for pages, but for the sake of brevity here are the two biggest issue I have with this story:

Problem #1: Polly O'Keefe's incredibly unhealthy relationships. A sixteen year old should not be going out with a hospital intern in his late 20s. Him having sex with her when she was in a vulnerable place was statutory rape (and he knew it which is why he was so freaked out later and said it could never happen again). A sixteen year old should not be encouraged by her parents to spend all her time with a middle aged lesbian couple that gives her champagne and sends her home tipsy. A sixteen year old should not go off with a random stranger that she meets while she is alone in a foreign country and who makes suggestive remarks to her the entire time they are together. A sixteen year old should not have to deal with the boundary breaking behavior of a married man who justifies his actions with the sentiment of "there are many ways to love someone". Yet, in one book, Madeleine L'Engle includes all of these scenarios and makes it seem as if each one is fairly normal and healthy by having Polly continue to engage in a warm friendship with adults who should know better. Just typing this all out makes me feel disgusting all over again.

Problem #2: L'Engle's distorted message of true love. Over and over again in her books, L'Engle comes back to the highly problematic message of all you need is love. She elevates love over truth and the consequences are plain to see. Truth would compel Polly's parents to protect their child from situations that are beyond her maturity to handle. Truth would proclaim the rightness of distancing oneself from people who engage in predatory behavior. Truth would actually give Polly the confidence to stand up for herself and what she believes in. But L'Engle throws that away in favor of forcing Polly to love people that are harming her physically, emotionally, and spiritually. That's not love, that's abuse.

This book ultimately puts on full display the cracks at the center of Madeleine L'Engle's worldview. In reading her work, I have found that she is very much a universalist (Christianity is good but there's more than one way to salvation) and very weak on truth and scientific facts. She does give us some beautiful writing and a few endearing characters, but I cannot recommend any of the books that follow the initial Wrinkle in Time trilogy.