join us on our pilgrims’ progress

Hey, FYAers! It's Monday morning! I know; I know. Mondays blow. And ever since we died last week in Choose Your Own Adventure, we've been adrift. A ship without a stern, a Boy Scout without a compass, a hooker without a John.

But never fear! We here at FYA would never let our readers stay stranded without some Monday Morning fun to latch onto, and so, we present to you: Our New Thing! Hooray!

What's Our New Thing? Well, as a title goes, it merely exists because I didn't know what else to call this. But specifically? We're going to start collectively reading (well, rereading) some of the classics and then deconstructing them the only way we know how: with snark and Stoli.

We're starting with that proverbial favorite amongst most bookish young girls: Little Women. Each week we'll be reviewing another chapter in the book and letting you know exactly what happens. The twist? We'll be writing the summaries as the characters. Haven't you ever wondered what Beth's thoughts were as she lay dying for an interminable five fucking chapters? So have I! We'll find out together, because ha ha, I'm going first which means I got top pick of the characters. Like I'm going to choose to embody lame ol' Beth; fuck no! I chose Amy, because I need a vehicle for my rage, and I LOATHE AMY AND HER STUPID LIMES.

So join us as we open on our tale of the March sisters, as narrated by the littlest March, Amy.

Little Women, Chapter One, as told by Amy March

It isChristmastime and the Baby Jesus has granted me with the worst sisters in the world. They are so awful! Jo likes to pretend that she's a man, Meg is an insufferable sanctimonious prig, and Beth is so infuriatingly good that I want to pull her hair out. Plus we're poor.

Marmie's given us all one dollar to spend for ourselves at Christmastime, and I want to buy a set of art pencils. I so wish we had more money to spend so that I could get some hot new dresses and show up all those bitches at school, but no one feels my pain. Oh, no, we just have to be poor! Because there's a war going on! And Papa's far away in the South, where they probably eat babies, being a chaplain to the army soldiers who aren't actually as ancient as he is.

Stupid Jo is being her usual Sapphic self, pacing back and forth and tucking her hands behind her back like she's a man. I don't know why she's so obsessed with being like a boy; everyone knows that being a girl is much more exciting. You get to wear dresses and brush your hair a lot and pretend that math is hard! Why should anyone want more than that?

Of course, if there's anyone worse than Jo, it's our awful older sister Meg, who just sits around and lectures all the time. Jo oughtn't be so masculine. I oughtn't be so prim and proper. Beth oughtn't . . . well, there's really nothing that Meg can lecture Beth on, since Beth is perfect and self-sacrificing and generally loathesome.

In fact, Beth has just offered up another one of her awful ideas: we should spend our dollars buying Christmas presents for Marmie instead of for ourselves. How am I related to her? Everyone thinks the idea is brilliant, of course, because it wouldn't do to upset Beth- she does become so violent in her fits - and Jo and Meg both quickly suggest gifts to buy Marmie. Jo will buy her some Army shoes, which if you ask me is no kind of gift at all. What proper woman wants Army shoes? They make it look like you have cankles!

Meg's going to buy Marmie a new pair of gloves, which she'll only just borrow from Marmie as soon as Marmie unwraps them. Meg is too vain about her hands. I overheard Papa tell Marmie once that Meg wasn't going to land a husband, being that picky about what her hands touch, but I don't understand what he meant.

Beth is going to buy Marmie some new slippers, and I've decided to buy her a small bottle of cologne. Cologne is cheap, so I still should have enough money left over to purchase my art pencils. After all, Marmie wouldn't want me to do without.

After that's decided, Jo forces us all to go over our scenes in the play that she has written. My role is to faint dead away at the sight of the swarthy Rodrigo; only Jo says I'm too stiff and wooden in my performance. I don't mind her criticisms; I hate acting anyway. It just isn't ladylike. I would much rather scratch my head over my sums tables and then giggle for no reason.

La! Marmie is home! And she has a letter from Papa! Jo and Meg and Beth run around to make things nice for Marmie, while I tuck myself up on her lap. Oh, sure, I could be toasting the bread or fixing the tea, but I think a nicer gift is my presence.

Papa's letter is wonderful, only he tacks on this bit at the end that completely guilts us all into feeling like horrible little brats. Papa's letter is all about how virtuous and mature we are, but really we're mostly awful, except for Beth. Beth, Beth, Beth. No one can ever beat her. Maybe Beth is the Baby Jesus, actually. I see no reason she couldn't be.

Everyone feels quite guilty after Papa's letter is read and make solemn vows to improve their character. Jo promises to be less like a man, Meg promises to stop being quite so vain. Beth, of course, manages to hunt up her one flaw from the mostly spotless corner that is her very personality and proclaims that she'll no longer wish she had a finer piano to play. I, for my part, do not think there is anything at all wrong with my character, but in the spirit of joining, I promise not to be so selfish in the future. And I shan't be, so long as everyone gives me what I want!

Marmie feels that perhaps we need more than solemn promises in order to reach our goals, and so she asks us to make it a sort of game, like Pilgrims' Progress, which we used to play when I was younger. Pilgrims' Progress is the worst game in the history of the world, I think. One just walks around one's house, carrying scrap fabric upon their back and quoting Scripture. But at the end there is tea and cakes, and so it isn't all bad. Marmie promises us that she'll place guidebooks under our pillows on Christmas Eve, and soon we'll be spiritually progressing all over the land. Great. Can't wait.

Then Beth sits down at the old, tuneless piano that she is no longer wishes were better, and we all sing songs before retiring to bed. My family is so weird.

Until next time! Love, Amy

That's it for this week, folks. Join us next Monday, as we find out what transpires in Chapter Two . . . but from another point of view!