Work by Louisa May Alcott -Susan’s Newsletter Jan. 2009



January 22, 2009 Susan’s Newsletter
Work by Louisa May Alcott
   Desiring meaningful life
   Love of books
   Loneliness and Despair
   Aging as a Woman

Good morning & we can say – Good WARM (all is relative, right?!??!) morning this time!!!  Should we all just pretend spring is next week and deal with the reality later!??!?!?  After writing to you the phrase from Louisa May Alcott last week, “She is too fond of books & it has turned her brain,”  I decided to read another book by Alcott, Work.  I wasn’t familiar with this title, mainly aware of her famous book, Little Women.  This book is on a young woman, Christie, who lives with her aunt and uncle since she is an orphan.  This book is on her dissatisfaction, her dreams as a young woman, her hard life (not turning out as she dreamed) and her becoming a woman of character at the end of the book as she looks back, with grief upon a husband’s death in war, and the renewal of life with a new infant daughter’s birth.

On being stifled by an environment – desire for a meaningful life:  “You and I are very different, ma’am. (in speaking to her aunt)…There was more yeast put into my composition, I guess; and, after standing quiet in a warm corner so long, I begin to ferment, and ought to be kneaded up in time, so that I may turn out a wholesome loaf.  You can’t do this; so let me go where it can be done, else I shall turn sour and good for nothing.  Does that make the matter any clearer?  Her aunt asked, “What do you want, child?”  Christie answered…”Do you see those two logs?  Well that one smoldering dismally away in the corner is what my life is now; the other blazing and singing is what I want my life to be.”  “Bless, me, what an idee!  They are both a-burning’ where they are put, and both will be ashes to-morrow; so what difference does it make?”  “I know the end is the same; but it does make a difference how they turn to ashes, and how I spend my life.  That log, with its one dull spot of fire, gives neither light nor warmth, but lies sizzling despondently among the cinders.  But the other glows from end to end with cheerful little flames that go singing up the chimney with a pleasant sound.  Its light fills the room and shines out into the dark; its warmth draws us nearer, making the hearth the coziest place in the house, and we shall all miss the friendly blaze when it dies.  Yes, I hope my life may be like that, so that, whether it be long or short, it will be useful and cheerful while it lasts, will be missed when it ends, and leave something behind besides ashes.”

On leaving home…what she takes: Twenty-one tomorrow, and her inheritance a head, a heart, a pair of hands; inttent-Disposition: form-data; name=”product_shipping_class”