Imagine admiring an author while you are growing up and then ending up in the same stratosphere of success as them. That is what happened to Louisa May Alcott, who was described by contemporaries as an ardent and enthusiastic admirer of Charles Dickens—a writer two decades her senior. Both Dickens and Alcott wrote novels, short stories, and essays; both loved the stage and pursued amateur acting; both integrated social issues into their writings; both went from using pen names to real names; and both became household names. By 1893, only Dickens’ novels were more circulated than Alcott’s in United States public libraries.

At the library’s public unveiling of the collections on March 28, 2026, renowned Alcott scholar Daniel Shealy observed that the new holdings encompass “numerous unpublished letters, hundreds of books, complete manuscripts, important presentation copies of books—most of them first editions—ephemera, photographs, first appearances of tales in periodicals, obscure and rare printings of books, and even unpublished journals.” According to Professor Shealy, the collections as a whole are “almost breathtaking in [their] scope and importance.”

Two white horses pulled the hearse into Concord’s Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, a top-hatted driver at the reins. A band of mourners followed on foot as they made their way toward Authors’ Ridge.

Except for the bright sunshine, this scene wouldn’t seem out of place in a story by Nathaniel Hawthorne. But it happened a mere twenty years ago, on June 26, 2006. That was the day Hawthorne and his wife and daughter were reunited after his death separated them 142 years earlier.