I'm tearing myself away from Jo's Boys to write these comments on Little Women, one of the books I've read for the Classics Challenge. You will know how much I enjoyed it when I tell you I didn't pause for a moment when I read the last page to move right along to Little Men. And when I finished that yesterday I started Jo's Boys at once. What's more I requested Eight Cousins from the library and will pick it up tomorrow.
This love of mine for Louisa May Alcott is interesting because there's no getting away from the fact that her children's books are sentimental, didactic, unrealistically peopled with saintly adults and easily molded good-at-heart children, and are ridiculously over pious.
None of that matters. I repeatedly gulp down these stories with gusto, crying and laughing at the appropriate places, and wish there were more. I think I'm like those goslings who upon hatching fix on the first creature they see, whether it's their mother or an adult male biologist. I fixed on Alcott at an early age and I shall follow wherever she leads.
It's definitely time for me to read a biography of LMA and probably past time to read some of her non-children's writing. I have a hankering to see what those sensational thrillers of hers are like. Excuse me while I nip over to Amazon.com and see what's on offer.