Oh, Louisa

I just checked out a book by Louisa May Alcott from the public library. it’s called A Long Fatal Love Chase. And from every page I can bring myself to read, it’s terrible: Melodramatic, stereotypical characters, vague descriptions that sound straight out of by-the-book romance novels. Paragraphs like: “The boy’s only answer was an eloquent look and a closer grasp of the hand that still lay on his shoulder. Tempest smiled a genuine, warm, soft smile which changed and beautified him wonderfully as he said, ‘He’s a pretty plaything, isn’t he? I found him in Greece and took a fancy into my idle head that I could make a fine man of him.'” Baffled by this low-quality Louisa, I turned to the back flap and saw that it was an unpublished early novel, written before she wrote Little Women, which is one of my all-time favorite books.

I can’t get past the first chapter. But I’m grateful to know that not every great author started with golden phrases flying like so many butterflies from her inkwell. Gives me hope.

One thought on “Oh, Louisa

  1. You *must* get past the first chapter, Linds. Because *I* can’t be expected to.

    Let me read vicariously through you.

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