It’s a fact that I love Louisa May Alcott’s stories. They’re always sweet tales about brave, compassionate people who are true to reality. I especially like how these people are not perfect, they get into scrapes all the time. I simply don’t know how I would bear these stories if the characters were all epitomes of perfect angels. But thank goodness, Alcott’s stories don’t have these horrible characteristics. So I am back again to present another book you might find at the back of your bookshelf: Eight Cousins, by Louisa May Alcott.
Eight Cousins is a book about a thirteen-year-old girl called Rose who has just become an orphan. She goes to live with her merry aunts (well, most of them are), but she looks pathetically miserable. Her Uncle Alec decides to conduct an “experiment,” and he exposes her to her seven busy, messy, reckless but charming cousins. She becomes a nurse, makes several sacrifices, undergoes embarrassments, runs around wildly, and in short, becomes a more vivid, happy child. So pick that dusty, worn book up, because I might just convince you to read it!
Rose is one of the typical Louisa May Alcott girls, those that you never tire of. She’s brave, charming, and loving. However, Rose feels confused at the beginning of the book, and she had reason to!
Rose lives in what is nick-named “the Aunt-hill.” It is swarming with all her Aunts, and all of them have very different points of view. Unfortunately, they all want her to do different things. Aunt Myra is convinced that Rose has no constitution, and is dosing her with liters of medicine. Aunt Clara is convinced that she should buy more fashionable clothing, because she was a beauty in her day and believes that that is the key to life. Poor Rose bears this as heroically as she can, though she ends up moaning it to Uncle Alec. However I found this enormously funny!
This book was a beautiful accomplishment. Oh, how I wish Louisa May Alcott was still alive! Oh, and this book isn’t very hard to read, more like medium-easy. So any ten-year-old could speed through this like lightning. A nine-year-old would go a little slower, and a three-year-old at a snail’s pace. No, don’t laugh, I’m dead serious. So good luck with this paper-y bouquet of roses!
You can buy the book here.