Member-only story
Which Little Woman Are you? Please Not Amy. Oh, You Might be an Amy.
On Reading Little Women With My Daughter
Last night my daughter and I read the first chapter of Little Women together. I was moved. I have read this book multiple times throughout my life. I have seen every version of every film or television adaptation of this book. I have read other books about this book. It might be a mild obsession, I suppose.
But, re-reading it again last night aloud to my daughter made me realize it was valid and worthy obsession.
This is one of the few books that literally transports you into it. The description of the rug and hearth, the way the girls gather around Marmie while she reads them the letter from their father — you can feel. It is tangible.
What craftsmanship!
We are still in the first chapter but I cannot wait to talk with my daughter about which one — which little woman! — she is. As a woman, I have to tell you that this is important. This conversation is practically a rite of passage.
My feeling is that she is a Jo, but then again we all like to think we are Jo. Don’t pretend. Don’t try to hide it. We all want to be Jo. I want to think I am a Jo. From the second I read the book to the second I am writing these words.
