I’m playing the role of housewifey this evening, and in between cooking dinner and doing laundry, I sat down and searched for movies on Netflix. There, in front of my eyes, was my favorite childhood book made into movie, A Wrinkle in Time.

I am now about an hour into the movie, and couldn’t be more disappointed. I feel like whenever someone takes a childhood book of mine and makes it into a movie, it completely strips it of its character and throws it into cheap graphics and mediocre acting.

Maybe I’m just being harsh and overprotective of my childhood memories, but let me tell you, when I read the book, I had a better scenes in my head than the ones that are playing before me. Gulliver’s Travels, James and the Giant Peach, the Chronicles of Narnia….all these give me amazing memories. Then comes the blockbuster for the summer, and it’s just not what imagined that it should be.

I guess there’s no pleasing me. The book is always going to be better than the movie.