They both happen on Thursdays, of course,
And they both have themes of family (one a family of writer-friends, one the more traditional view of family),
but also...this week they have a Love-Child Blog Post.
or a wing-nut father (who preached "the sweetness of self-denial") slow her down.
Well, the 19th century New England equivalent anyway - Thoreau, Hawthorne, Emerson.
And cry. And cry. I simply COULD NOT BELIEVE Beth died.
I knew her. I loved her. How could she be dead?
This is a book I will not reread as an adult.
I'm afraid it would be uncomfortable.
There's a pretty good chance I'd find Little Women maudlin, and I might laugh at my fragile child-self for having loved it so much. And then all the magic would be gone.
All those tears, sighs, and whispers make it smell wonderful.
And when one of my CPs said my book made her cry no less than three times-I was thrilled (even if she cries easily).
It's the litmus test for me.