Hello readers! Sometimes I think so hard about a book that I simply must write about it and share here. Today’s newsletter is about one of those novels taking up lots of mental real estate right now. Thanks for being here with me.
My childhood, while always safe and always housed, was a tumultuous one. I lived in five towns and eight homes while growing up, endured my parents’ rocky marriage and divorce, a parent who refused to pay child support, mandatory weekend visits with that parent, a remarriage, and all the confusing emotions those situations naturally elicit. We always had enough money to live, but money was always a *thing*, the way it wasn’t for some of my friends.
As did many children of my era with this type of childhood, I lost myself in books. It was pre-internet and I grew up without a TV. I was an early and precocious and obsessive reader, using books as an escape and coping mechanism and a shield against the trauma. Spending the weekend in an efficiency apartment in a strange town with a parent who would treat us to Snickers ice cream bars, but refuse to buy us toothbrushes and toothpaste because, “that’s what child support is for”, regardless of the fact that said support was rarely paid? Well, that’s nothing that a massive historical novel can’t erase!
It really only hit me recently, when re-reading Little Women, that there had to be a REASON I attached myself to this book and its sequel Jo’s Boys the way that I did. And all of the other giant books (reading Gone With the Wind in 5th grade is highly unusual) that accompanied my Baby-Sitters’ Club and Sweet Valley binges ~ those favorite candy pop reads would last me like, 1/48 of a never-ending visitation weekend. I needed heft and a time investment.
I recently listened to
and discuss Little Women on an old episode of their Novel Pairings podcast, and I completely understand why neither of them, encountering the text for the first time as adults, particularly loved it. When I re-read it this month, for the first time in years, it definitely did strike me as preachy and flowery and yes, I did skim over some parts.You know what, though? I don’t really care. It’s not so much the text itself that I hold so dear in my heart. It’s the comfort of this family with a missing father (but a loving one!) without much money enduring some tough times with an upbeat attitude. There are hijinks and romances and older characters all perfectly appropriate for younger readers, and the story is set during the Civil War, but that’s all so far away. No war trauma really touches the pages, and my childhood certainly didn’t need any additional anxiety. Yes, Father is injured, but he was fine! And I mean, sure, Beth dies, but it’s while Amy is in France in a blossoming relationship with my beloved Laurie. Alcott was my hero for skimming over that death so delightfully.
Last week I delighted in dissecting and skewering The Great Gatsby as required high school reading, and I loved doing that. I adored the analysis and the follow up reading I did and the discussion with my friend. My thoughts on Little Women as a required reading choice are distinctly opposed to my personal feelings on it. That more analytical look at the book will come in a later newsletter ~ stay tuned for Part II.
My enduring personal attitude about Little Women is just comforting vibes. The last chapter, Harvest Time, is the hug I needed so often as a child and wanted to climb inside and never return from. They’re all together and happy and partnered and have kids and have grown up just fine despite those Hard Times™. Except for dead Beth, but three out of four ain’t bad? I am very curious if I’ll get that same vibe from what I remember Jo’s Boys being, or if surprises await me?
When I revisit Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy again, I don’t know if I’ll even bother with the middle of the book; I may just choose to just bathe in the vibes of the parts I love ~ I’ll relish in the beginning and ending and the comfort and knowing that all that bad stuff in the world is out “there”, but here I’m safe and it will all be okay.
NOTE: I fully admit that my current reading habits aren’t wildly different than my habits as a child, but the world we live in is as tumultuous on a global scale as my personal life was then. Or maybe as a full grown adult I just am aware of the global scale while back then my own traumas and little life simply consumed me, as is the way of children. Now, my personal life is solid and safe and the world is on fire and I literally can’t read the news without anxiety and fear of November flooding my body. Reading as a trauma shield is working quite well for me now, just as it did for me as a child.
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Thanks for reading,
I love to hear from readers, so please do reach out to me with questions or feedback at mindfullibrarian@substack.com . If we aren’t already connected on Goodreads, I would love to see you there as well!
Oh, Kate, I love this post! I had no idea your childhood was so tumultuous. I definitely took comfort in books as a child to escape family drama, as well. Books never ever let me down or stressed me out. To this day I can find comfort in books better than any other distraction. I'm so grateful for books!!!
Books can rescue us from turmoil. Books can change our life. 🩷