High Tide Book

This went from delightful to tedious in thirty pages. It's amazing to me that Jane Austen, who wrote some one hundred years before Alcott, could feel so incredibly modern and this novel so insufferably outdated.

If you like regular lines such as "Oh, you little dear!" and scenes of the older man holding the chin of the thirteen-year-old girl and tenderly kissing her rose-bud lips and telling her to mind him and all of her dreams shall come true (did I mention it is her uncle--her dear, dear uncle?), then by all means, rip into this "classic," and, while you're at it, read Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, too!

I actually couldn't even make it to the end, but I think she must marry the uncle. I honestly could not suffer through one more scene of the almost 14-year-old cuddling in dear uncle's lap.

If someone misled you and you thought this was a brilliant classic. . . go read Anne of Green Gables or Jane Austen or anything Bronte instead.