Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
There is a little March woman to match every reader’s personality, and the lives of the sisters are so full, so fun, so good, that it would be difficult to dislike their story. There is nothing but pleasantness and industrious afternoons, which might get tedious in the dozen or so sequels, but reading this classic first book is soothing and comfortable. Somehow even Beth’s death is barely a ripple in the sea of tranquility the pages float upon.
As long as you don’t think too hard about how this story is set during the Civil War and yet there is barely a mention of it, or wonder why such educated precocious girls don’t have any thoughts that extend further than the walls of their house, you too can be transported to the rewards that being busy offers every good girl.
Meg is the eldest and on the brink of love. Then there’s tomboy Jo who longs to be a writer. Sweet-natured Beth always puts others first, and finally there’s Amy, the youngest and most precocious. Together they are the March sisters. Even though money is short, times are tough and their father is away at war, their infectious sense of fun sweeps everyone up in their adventures – including Laurie, the boy next door. And through sisterly squabbles, their happy times and sad ones too, the sisters discover that growing up is sometimes very hard to do.