A bad book is the worse that it cannot repent

Hello.

Been inexcusably lazy with this blog lately - I have been reading books (cannot stop mineself!) but have not been taking note of them, because mostly I've been doing re-reads and single-sitting reads.
I downloaded a ton of gutenburg project ebooks (for anyone with a kindle: serious recommendation, right there. Project Gutenberg.) and decided that I'd start with the sequels to a book my mother read us when I and my siblings were wee babsies. The book was called The Five Little Peppers And How They Grew, and the concept is basically that of Little Women with younger children and a combination of boys and girls rather than the 'four sisters' format. The Pepper kids and their 'Mamsie' live in a beloved little brown house and are possibly a little worse off financially than the March family - because, at least in the sequels, they are seen as somewhat low in the social strata of the time. But they are unquenchably cheerful and not a little Mary Sue-ish, on the whole: the first book (insofar as I remember it...) was a nice little children's novel, about a warm little single parent family and their compulsory rich boy friend with wealthy father. So, since most old time sequels weren't too disgustingly bad, I thought I'd plunge into the several books that followed the first installation of 'Five Little Peppers'. I struggled through The Five Little Peppers Midway (surely Margaret Sidney could have diverged a little from the 'five little peppers' title without it harming the books too much?) but gave up halfway through The Five Little Peppers Abroad (it nearly killed me - I have to be very very bored by a book to give up on it.) I went on to The Five Little Peppers Grown Up.

I'm tempted to re-read the original book now, because I have really positive memories of it from my childhood. I don't remember the bizarre emotional manipulation used by all of the characters on each other; particularly the family manages Phronsie, the youngest, this way. Whenever Phronise begins to fuss about something (and little girls do, even Mary Sues) everyone shushes her by saying, "Don't Phronsie, don't, you'll make grandpa unwell." But the injunction to supress emotion suffuses the whole Peppers oeuvre:

"Study doesn't amount to much unless you are glad of the chance," said Mrs. Fisher sharply. "I wouldn't give a fig for it, being driven to it," and her lips curled scornfully.
Joel wilted miserably. "I do care for the chance," he cried; "just try me, and see."

I don't mind 'Mamsie' telling her son he ought to study when he has the chance - but the tone! Good grief!

Mr. King, who sort of adopts the family and takes them into his mansiony home, makes up for this generosity by being a selfish old bigot. Cannot see any likeability in this character. Nil. It's as though Margaret Sidney was trying to create a typical villain - only she went and put him where she should have put the jolly old grandfatherly benefactor.

If you really want to (and I would recommend it, just for 'what the heck?' value) you can here read the most bizarre and excruciating (successful) proposal of marriage in literature (start at the row of asterikses. Asteriksi?). It made me so angry to read. If someone proposed to me over my mother's lap I'd be all 'No! Go away and think up something more romantic and appropriate!'
Seriously, though, I only persevered with the series because I knew this scene would come (I'm a sucker for romantic story arcs) - and then! To be met with such a scene as this! Oh, this series makes me cross! I could go on about its awfulness all night, but I've had a long day. I'm tired. Good night.