A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens was Carrie‘s December Book Club choice. I don’t know if I have ever actually read the book before: I think I may have long ago. But I have seen it almost every year for the last several (my favorite is the George C. Scott version). So it was nice to actually go through the book this year. I started out reading it but then switched over to the audiobook when LearnOutLoud.com offered it for free this month. It was well done: the narrator was very expressive, but her voice got just a bit irritating at the height of some scenes. But overall it was enjoyable.

It’s hard to review it per se because the story is so well known, but if you are not familiar with it, it’s the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge, a tight-fisted, cold-hearted, miserly, miserable person. Though he is well-off, he doesn’t live extravagantly: he doesn’t even live comfortably, keeping his office cold to avoid using coal. He has no warm or charitable thoughts for anyone, begrudges his employee a paid holiday, returns his nephew’s “Merry Christmas” with a “Bah, humbug,” flatly turns down those seeking aid for the poor, saying the work houses and such are taking care of them.

As Scrooge heads for bed on Christmas Eve, the ghost of his dead business partner, Jacob Marley, visits in him chains forged during his lifetime, and warns Scrooge that a similar fate awaits him if he doesn’t change. To encourage his reclamation, three ghosts will visit him that night. The Ghost of Christmas Past takes him back to scenes of his youth, before his heart was hardened. The Ghost of Christmas Present shows him the true state of his long-suffering clerk, Bob Cratchit and his family, including crippled Tiny Tim, happy though poor. In both the Cratchit family and his nephew’s family, Scrooge hears some not-so-flattering sentiments about himself. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come shows him Cratchit’s family without Tiny Tim and calloused reactions to his own death. All of these scenes work together to open his eyes, soften his heart, and cause him to change. Not only do his actions change in that he is now more generous and concerned for others, but he is now filled with joy.

This tale was published in 1843 and has been a favorite ever since. Perhaps we can all rejoice in a selfish miser getting his comeuppance, but more than that, the story can speak to our own hearts about our own self-focus and lack of concern for and generosity towards others.

I’ve spent some time pondering whether Scrooge’s change was more of a reformation, a turning over a new leaf, or a true conversion. I’m not sure what Dickens’ religious beliefs were, though he does have Christian elements in many of his books: of course, he wrote this just as a morality tale rather than a religious story, so this is just my own ruminations. There does not seem to be much mention of God, though there is reference to being like a child at Christmas because its great Founder became one, and a joyous “Heaven and Christmas Time be praised” when Scrooge realizes the visions are over and he is safe at home in bed. But at the end of his time with the last Ghost, Scrooge says, “I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse.” His change of heart comes on gradually as his eyes are opened: it’s not just a fear of death in the last scenes, though that’s a part of it. That’s what I hope people see: he didn’t just decide to start being generous financially, but he is a totally changed man.

I enjoyed revisiting this story and finding out that the films I have seen of it have been remarkably close to the original.

I almost didn’t review Little Women by Louisa May Alcott since it is already so familiar to many people. But I couldn’t resist. It’s one of my all-time favorite books and one of the first classics I remember reading. I don’t know how many times I’ve reread it.

If you’re not familiar with the story, it’s basically about four sisters growing up in a poor family in the 1800s, based loosely on Alcott’s own family:

Meg (short for Margaret) is 16 when the story opens. Pretty, proper, lady-like, domestic, works as a governess, good except for a tendency to covet other girls’ nice things.

Jo (short for Josephine) is 15, tomboyish, spirited, clumsy, creative, dramatic, short-tempered, likes to write.

Beth, 13, is quiet, painfully shy, musical, and doesn’t venture far from home and family.

Amy, 12, is artistic, ladylike, vain, and a little pompous.

Some years ago when this story came up in a conversation, a friend said, “They were so perfect, weren’t they?” No! They were realistically flawed, but each knew their faults and tried to work on them (and did make progress during the course of the book). One scene where everyone is being fractious for various reasons while the mom (Marmee) is trying to get some mail ready that has to go out that day was very true to life in the way family life sometimes goes, even though the specifics from that time to this are different.

The family had been prosperous but suffered some financial reversals. As the story opens the father is away as a Union chaplain in the Civil War and the girls are lamenting that there is no money for Christmas presents. They each have a small amount and decide to buy something special for themselves, but later decide to use their resources to get something nice for Marmee. Those kind of struggles come up repeatedly in the book — facing some temptation (often the tendency to be dissatisfied) and the opportunity to overcome it or succumb. Sometimes they do one, sometimes the other, but always they learn from it.

When I read this as a child, I was enthralled with the activities the girls amused themselves with (their own newspaper, plays, etc.) and the striving to be good. When I read it as a young woman, I identified with Meg just after she married — the hilarious scene when the jelly wouldn’t gel after working with it all day, and tired, frustrated, and at the end of herself, that’s the day her husband brings a guest home to dinner unexpectedly. She had told him to feel free to do so and wanted to be a good little wife, but the desire clashed with reality that day. Then another day she overspent and dreaded having to tell her hard-working husband (I had a similar experience as a newlywed). At this reading I still identified with Meg a lot (in personality I’m a combination of Meg and Beth), but I found more in common with Marmee, trying to raise these spirited young people. But I also identified with Jo — not so much in her boyish tendencies but in her bumbling growth and her writing. The scenes where she is so lonely (for a couple of reasons which I don’t want to give away, if you’ve not read the book) and looking for what to do with her life are full of pathos.

In my earlier reading I had thought this book had a Christian underpinning. Later I learned that Alcott’s family were Transcendentalists. I’m still not entirely sure what that is: Wikipedia wasn’t much help. I would disagree about the inherent goodness of people (since the Bible says we are all inherently sinful and need a Savior). My friend Ann teaches high school English and discusses this — I’d love to hear that lesson! (In lieu of that maybe you could send me your notes, Ann. 🙂 ) There are spiritual principles mentioned and reference to asking God for help.

Other themes include hard work, individuality, the pleasures of home, the benefits of poverty, ministering to those even poorer than themselves. Some say there are early feminist tendrils in this book — I need to read more about Alcott some time to know what her views were. The Wikipedia article on her says she was involved with women’s suffrage, and that kind of thinking is clear in the book,  but I don’t think she was into the extreme feminism of eschewing marriage and homemaking, especially since she does magnify home life and domesticity. She does show that every woman’s life and personality may not look exactly the same, and I’d agree with her there. Meg and Jo clash over this more than once.

I enjoyed re-experiencing many scenes, but I was surprised at some I had forgotten. One was a time when the girls were longing not to have to work, and Marmee gave them their way for a week or so. At first they reveled in their freedom, but soon grew restless. Then Marmee further reinforced the lesson by taking a short vacation herself to let the girls experience what happens when all those little humdrum duties aren’t taken care of. In this and other ways the book is a little more didactic than modern readers tend to like, yet this book has been beloved for over a hundred years.

I also rewatched the Winona Ryder version of the film Little Women during the course of this book. It did differ from the book much more than I had remembered — some lines show up in different situations than in the book, some scenes are out of order, Jo doesn’t write that kind of book at the end (in that I think they followed one of the older films, either with Katherine Hepburn or June Allyson as Jo — I think the former). There is one scene with Jo and Professor Bhaer discussing transcendentalism and German philosophers which was not in the book (I think designed to show the author’s background a bit) that was not in the book, but otherwise they didn’t add in unnecessary and irrelevant scenes and people, and I think they kept close to the spirit of the book. I still enjoy it despite the differences, and some scenes are very close to the book (Jo attending a dance with a burn mark on the back of her dress, which she tries to keep hidden, and meeting Laurie in the process, Amy’s near-drowning).

I listened to the book this time via audiobook. This type of book — a classic that I love to reread but can’t always work into my regular reading — is one of the best uses of audiobooks for me. I wasn’t thrilled with this particular narrator: she was okay but didn’t do much with different voices. But overall I thoroughly enjoyed learning and growing again with Little Women.

Booking Through Thursday is a weekly meme which poses a question or a thought for participants to discuss centering on the subject of books or reading.

I haven’t done one of these for ages, but I thought the question for this week was interesting:

Do you keep a list of the books you’ve read? How? In a journal? Through one of the online services? If so, WHY? To keep good records for future reference? To make sure you don’t accidentally reread? If not, why not? Too eager to move on to the next book? Too lazy? Never thought to bother?

I’ve only kept a list since starting my blog and I really enjoy it. Why keep a list? Well, I do get satisfaction from lists of things I’ve completed. It provides a sense of accomplishment. And it’s fun to look over and remember. At the end of the year I enjoy compiling a list of books I’ve read that year. It’s like catching up with old friends or looking through a photo album. I’ve been keeping a list for each year on my sidebar but after the first of the year I think I’ll try to compile those into one master list.

I don’t worry too much about accidentally rereading a book. I figure if I don’t remember having read it, it will probably do me good to go through it again.

I do wish I had lists from books I read from childhood. It would be interesting to see what my tastes were then, plus there are some stories that I can’t remember whether I’ve read or just seen the film of.

My most thorough lists are kept here on the blog. I do have an account at Goodreads but I’ve only recently begun to keep up with it regularly, so it only has a fraction of the books I’ve read.

Sometimes I enjoy looking through other people’s lists of books read as well, to compare notes and see if we liked the same books, to get an idea of their personality and preferences, to get ideas for my own ever-growing TBR list, etc.

Sherry at Semicolon had some questions relating to reading the other day, and I thought I’d borrow them for a post.

1. What classic book do you hate? I can think of several I was disappointed in — The Man in the Iron Mask, The Three Musketeers, and even Pride and Prejudice, but I can’t think of any I hated. Of course, one will probably come to mind about 3 seconds after I post this.

2. To what extent do you judge people by what they read? It depends on how you mean “judge.” If someone reads, say, trashy romances by preference, that does say something about them. In fact, one favorite book blogger I used to read went from having a vibrant testimony to reading those kinds of books to posting almost exclusively from those kinds of books to then getting divorced to now never saying anything about the Lord.

On the other hand, I think reading various book bloggers has opened my eyes to the fact that good people can have widely varying tastes, and some can be interested in things I am not interested in, and that’s okay. And some can have good reasons for reading things that I wouldn’t. And just because the Christian community raises an outcry against a book doesn’t mean it’s worthless, though there are a handful whose opinions I would greatly trust.

3. What television series would you recommend as the literariest? If you mean what series referenced the most books, “LOST” referred to many and often had people scrambling to read books shown or mentioned on the series for clues about it. If you mean what series  stayed closest to its book origins…I think I’d agree with Sherry‘s answer of the “Pride and Prejudice” with Colin Firth, which was originally a TV mini-series, or the first “Anne of Green Gables” film (also originally a PBS series), or the very early days of “Little House on the Prairie.” Both of the latter two strayed wildly from their origins as they went on (which doesn’t make sense. A series is a success because it’s based on beloved books and characters, and then producers want to go a completely different direction with them…no, it just doesn’t make sense.)

4. Describe your ideal home library.

Oh, I dunno, maybe this one? 🙂

Incidentally, while looking for that link, I came across a post showing different libraries in films that was pretty neat, though I’d not recommend all the films listed. The site Beautiful Libraries is a feast for book-loving eyes.

Though I prefer light, airy colors for decorating most of the time, I do like some warmth in a library. I’d like a plethora of real wooden bookshelves, with a desk or table to spread things out on, some cozy seating with rich upholstery, a window seat, good lighting, big windows and a fireplace. A ceiling like the one in the Biltmore Library would be a plus. 🙂 I fact, I like everything about that library except the red upholstery.

5. How do you decide what to read next?

I usually have a few books at a time stacked up to read and choose from there. If I’m participating in a challenge like Katrina’s Fall Into Reading, I might check the library or choose from what’s on the list. I also keep a running “To Be Read” list compiled from books I see others recommending. From one of those stacks or lists I usually just go by whatever strikes me as interesting at the moment, but there are some books I have to “make” myself get into. Sometimes I end up enjoying that kind, others I have to make myself keep going (not because it is not worthwhile or uninteresting — I’ll dump that after a fair try — but just because there are some books I don’t gravitate to. Though I benefit from nonfiction, I do usually have to make myself start and keep with it.)

6. How much do you talk about books in real life (outside of the blogging community)?

Not much but probably more than most people I know. I don’t know many people “in real life” who like to read much. I do often find myself mentioning something I read or recommending a book.

I do try to be careful about not just recommending a book when someone is talking about a problem. It’s natural for my mind to go that way, but some years back I read of someone exasperated at people “throwing books” at whatever problem she was talking about. While the recommended books would probably be helpful, there are times someone needs an answer, an expression of sympathy, etc, in the moment.

Feel free to borrow these as well, and let me know if you do!