Little Women
A revisit to the classic, Little Women, had been an intention for far too long.
I have no memory of reading it the first time, but my paperback set of Little Women, Little Men, and Jo’s Boys does have my first initial and maiden name written on each of the inner covers in pencil. They’ve sat on my shelf since childhood and even though I don’t remember reading them, I’ve never been willing to part with them. They have traveled with me from house to house–one childhood home and five as a married adult.
Rereading this as a mid-thirties-something was an experience. I always thought of myself as a “Jo,” but in careful reading, I see that this story stands the test of time because the March sisters are all of us. I see myself in Meg’s sense of responsibility, Beth’s desire to please, Amy’s fits of vanity, and in Jo’s temper.
I listened to the audiobook regretting I did not also have the print in front of me (I suppose another reread will be in order soon) to mark favorite quotes.
Tears rolled down my face when Jo’s temper got the best of her, as mine so often does. Marmee’s words both destroyed and healed me. As she mothered Jo, I felt her mothering me, telling me that she used to get angry sometimes, too. At the same time I grieved my mom, wishing she could be the one sharing wisdom rather than a book character. While it wasn’t a beloved favorite from my past, Little Women now holds a special place in my heart and I’m certain I’ll pull the other paperbacks in my set off the shelf soon.
