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About Louisa May Alcott. Louisa May Alcott. Like her character, Jo March in Little Women, young Louisa was a tomboy: "No boy could be my friend till I had beaten him in a race," she claimed, " and no girl if she refused to climb trees, leap fences She had a rich imagination and often her stories became melodramas that she and her sisters would act out for friends. Louisa preferred to play the "lurid" parts in these plays, "the villains, ghosts, bandits, and disdainful queens.
I will make a battering-ram of my head and make my way through this rough and tumble world. In , when she was 22, her first book Flower Fables was published. A milestone along her literary path was Hospital Sketches based on the letters she had written home from her post as a nurse in Washington, DC as a nurse during the Civil War.
When Louisa was 35 years old, her publisher Thomas Niles in Boston asked her to write "a book for girls. In all, Louisa published over 30 books and collections of stories. She died on March 6, , only two days after her father, and is buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Concord. Books by Louisa May Alcott.
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That seemed like the best way for a television critic to approach a television production, anyway—to take the work at face value. Seen this way, the show was uncomplicatedly enjoyable. She had selected him for the task. The music is too much, manipulative and poncey. But, over all, the show is immersive and astonishingly well cast, fuelled by the joy of gazing into the eyes of the actors who play Elena and Lila—Elisa Del Genio and Ludovica Nasti, as children, and Margherita Mazzucco and Gaia Girace, as teen-agers—inexperienced performers whose spontaneity feels liberating. These pleasures beautiful people, sunlight, historical voyeurism might sound superficial, but they are pleasures anyway.
After I read the book, it was clear how closely the adaptation follows its track. Some critics have called the show dutiful, with the implication that it is not especially interesting as art. And putting events on film does bring out fresh angles. Among other things, the violence feels different. If she only had a servant or two it would be all right, said Amy, coming out of the parlor, where she had been trying to decide whether the bronze Mercury looked best on the whatnot or the mantlepiece.
Mother and I have talked that over, and I have made up my mind to try her way first. There will be so little to do that with Lotty to run my errands and help me here and there, I shall only have enough work to keep me from getting lazy or homesick, answered Meg, tranquilly. Meg and John begin humbly, but I have a feeling that there will be quite as much happiness in the little house as in the big one.
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When I was first married, I used to long for my new clothes to wear out or get torn, so that I might have the pleasure of mending them, for I got heartily sick of doing fancywork and tending my pocket handkerchief. It was play then, but there came a time when I was truly grateful that I not only possessed the will but the power to cook wholesome food for my little girls, and help myself when I could no longer afford to hire help. You begin at the other end, Meg, dear. But the lessons you learn now will be of use to you by and by, when John is a richer man, for the mistress of a house, however splendid, should know how work ought to be done, if she wishes to be well and honestly served.
Do you know I like this room most of all in my baby house, added Meg, a minute after, as they went upstairs, and she looked into her well-stored linen closet.
Beth was there, laying the snowy piles smoothly on the shelves and exulting over the goodly array. All three laughed as Meg spoke, for that linen closet was a joke. She never broke her word, and was much exercised in her mind how to get round it, and at last devised a plan whereby she could satisfy herself. For Aunt March tried to look utterly unconscious, and insisted that she could give nothing but the old-fashioned pearls long promised to the first bride. I had a young friend who set up housekeeping with six sheets, but she had finger bowls for company and that satisfied her, said Mrs. March, patting the damask tablecloths, with a truly feminine appreciation of their fineness.
And Meg looked quite contented, as well she might. Toodles is coming, cried Jo from below. And they all went down to meet Laurie, whose weekly visit was an important event in their quiet lives. A tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with a cropped head, a felt basin of a hat, and a flyaway coat came tramping down the road at a great pace, walked over the low fence without stopping to open the gate, straight up to Mrs. March, with both hands out and a hearty:.
The last words were in answer to the look the elder lady gave him—a kindly, questioning look which the handsome eyes met so frankly that the little ceremony closed, as usual, with a motherly kiss. For Mrs. Bless you, Beth! What a refreshing spectacle you are, Jo. Amy, you are getting altogether too handsome for a single lady. Which side won the last match, Teddy? More cruel than ever. And Laurie gave his broad chest a sounding slap and heaved a melodramatic sigh. Undo the bundle and see, Meg, said Beth, eying the knobby parcel with curiosity. Any time when John is away and you get frightened, Mrs.
Meg, just swing that out of the front window, and it will rouse the neighborhood in a jiffy. And Laurie gave them a sample of its powers that made them cover up their ears. And speaking of gratitude reminds me to mention that you may thank Hannah for saving your wedding cake from destruction.
Mother and I are going to wait for John. There are some last things to settle, said Meg, bustling away.
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Now, Teddy, I want to talk seriously to you about tomorrow, began Jo, as they strolled away together. And I implore you not to look at me during the ceremony. I shall certainly laugh if you do.
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And Laurie stopped short, with an injured air. I only want some money, said Laurie, walking on again, appeased by her hearty tone. We heard about Henshaw and all you did for him. If you always spent money in that way, no one would blame you, said Jo, warmly.
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Oh, he made a mountain out of a molehill. Laurie threw back his head, and laughed so heartily at this attack, that the felt basin fell off, and Jo walked on it, which insult only afforded him an opportunity for expatiating on the advantages of a rough-and-ready costume, as he folded up the maltreated hat, and stuffed it into his pocket.
I have enough all through the week, and like to enjoy myself when I come home. By the way, Jo, I think that little Parker is really getting desperate about Amy. He talks of her constantly, writes poetry, and moons about in a most suspicious manner. Mercy on us, what are the children thinking of?