Sister Lit World Headquarters: the Jane Austen Centre, Bath, UK

Last month I read The Weird Sisters, a debut novel by Eleanor Brown.  In many ways, it followed a formula.  Sisters butt heads but love each other at the same time.  (Well, to be honest, the Andreas sisters of The Weird Sisters did more head-butting… metaphorical, of course… than loving.  But there was some loving.)  As I was reading The Weird Sisters, I started to think a lot about that literary sub-genre that I fondly call “sister lit.”

Sister lit – the primary example of which, in my mind, is Little Women – seems to be everywhere.  Anyone with an appetite for family sagas likes to read about the heart-warming and often heart-wrenching relationship between sisters.  I expect that there are plenty of women out there who say to themselves, “Oh, I’m definitely Jo.  And my sister is Amy.”  Or amend that as you will.

I can’t relate to this.  You see, I don’t have a sister.  Despite repeated requests – ahem, Mom – all I got was a brother.  Now, don’t get me wrong – I love my brother.  He’s a smart, funny guy and we have a lot in common (although he does some things – like shark diving – that you couldn’t pay me enough to try).  He loves to read, travel, ski and make sarcastic comments, all hobbies that we share.  And, as an added bonus, he never stole my clothes.  I may have borrowed his flannel shirts on occasion, though.  (So soft!  Sorry, bro.)

But I’ll admit I’ve always been a little bit jealous of people who have sisters – especially when they are also best friends.  I’ve come close to that relationship; I joined a sorority full of smart, funny women; made some extremely close female friends at every stage of my life; and married a guy with two lovely sisters that I adore.  As much as I cherish my sisters-in-law, sorority sisters, and girlfriends, I know I am never going to get to experience what it’s like to have a biological sister.  (Good and bad stuff alike.)  That doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy and appreciate books like Little Women or The Weird Sisters, or the opportunity to live vicariously through them.

In fact, sometimes I think that maybe I enjoy those books more as a result of not having a sister – because diving into the relationships between Jane and Lizzy Bennet of Pride and Prejudice… or Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy of Little Women… or Rose, Bean and Cordy of The Weird Sisters… gives me the opportunity to see what life is like inside the head of a woman who has been given the gift of a sister.  But I sometimes do wonder if sister lit books would resonate differently with me if I had a sister and could draw on that relationship to inform my reading.  Alas, I’ll never know.

If only I could find a good grown-up book (and no, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe doesn’t count) about siblings of the opposite sex.  Maybe I’ll write one.  Dan, you have been warned.

Do you have a sister?  Do you enjoy “sister lit” more because you have that real-life relationship to draw upon?