And I just read *that* chapter. You know the one. The one most of us read again and again when we were eight or twelve, the one that always made us cry, which was why we read it.
And I'm crying. And it's not the maudlin "beautiful death" or the loss of the character.
It's Jo. I can feel every bit of her pain.
I know LMA didn't like writing "girl's books", and she got heartily tired of the March family, but there are *things* in that make it timeless in ways that, say, Under the Lilacs , never could be. Like not going with the obvious, "right" romance.
And it can still make me cry and be eight again.