Although my childhood was full of wonderful books, the famous classic Little Women by Louisa May Alcott was not one of them. It was recently recommended to me, and I had to read it before watching the new movie, so I dove into the past and discovered these four lovable sisters.
Towards the end of the movie “Enchanted”, Amy Adams’s character Giselle feels angry for the first time. She’s angry, then giddy at feeling something new, then angry again. That is precisely how Little Women made me feel.
I spent loads of time with these characters, getting to know their hearts and minds and loving them. Then suddenly there’s a shift, beloved characters behave in uncharacteristic ways, one is torn away, and I’m left bereft and heartbroken in a weird Midsummer Night’s Dream scenario where half the cast is with the wrong person.
Perhaps if I’d read it earlier and it held the pull of nostalgia I’d be less disappointed at the end, but alas my childhood did not include these pages. I’m now unmoored and my vocabulary has taken a decidedly antiquarian turn.
I am glad I read it, and subsequently went down an internet wormhole learning about the author and circumstances that led to this book. Generally speaking, books that elicit strong emotions, all over the place for the duration of reading, are most often worth the read.
Now onto watch the movie adaptations and have my romantic heart ripped out all over again.