"I want to do something splendid...Something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead...I think I shall write books."
Happy 184th, Ms. Alcott. I'm glad you wrote books. Especially this one. It's the book that made me a life-long reader, writer, and feminist—at the ripe old age of 10. I still have the hardbound edition that my mom read to me and then I read again on my own over a long, lazy summer. It's the very one I read aloud to my girls 30 years later. Lovely new editions like the one above have made it onto my shelves. but that old one with its dog-eared and tear-stained pages, separating spine, and frayed cover will always be my favorite. If I listen close, I can still hear my mom's voice, and then my own. reading aloud to my girls on the night they cried themselves to sleep over Beth, like I had years before them.
As my family gathered last week for Thanksgiving, our conversation naturally turned to books we love. One sister-in-law asked if I have a favorite book. We laughed as another sister-in-law joked that was like asking me to name my favorite child. I finally decided that if pressed, I could maybe narrow it down to a top ten, although it would be an excruciating task. But tonight, if asked again, I'd be tempted to say Little Women.