Now that I am married, I have found myself more drawn to books about marriage – or, I should say, good books about marriage. I don’t know how I heard about Madeleine L’Engle‘s marriage memoir, Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage, but I checked it out from my local library and am reading a bit in the morning and at night.
Ms. L’Engle was married to actor Hugh Franklin, and she writes beautifully about their courtship and marriage in the memoir. (For those of us who have lived in New York City, it is even more precious. And for those of us who were actors in New York City, its yet more special. Their romance began in the theatre.) Mr. Franklin was best known for his roles in soaps: As the World Turns and All My Children. (I was on As the World Turns in a few different walk-on parts, one which lasted for six episodes, so that trivia about him makes the book all the more meaningful to me.)
Here is a paragraph I read this morning, the importance of which I, as a newlywed of less than two months, am only starting to appreciate:
I learned fairly early in my marriage that I did not have to confide everything on my mind to my husband; this would be putting on him burdens which I was supposed to carry myself. When a bride insists on telling her lover everything, I suspect she is looking for a father, not a husband. Some of my life was mine to be known by me alone. Bur our marriage was ours, belonged to the two of us, and was full of wonderful things, terrible things, joyous things, grievous things, but ours.
(Madeleine L’Engle, Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage, page 73)