I just reread this book about five times because I couldn't get enough of the quiet, beautiful heartbreak. I don't remember when I first read it, perhaps in elementary school, but I know I got it from the library many years in a row. I rediscovered it in college and it broke my heart (again), but even then, I was still too mired in childhood and self to notice the richness of the characters' relationships.
Reading it now was such a revelation. Here are some things I never picked up on as a young teenager, perhaps the age of Meg in the book, perhaps also growing up with an older sister who shone a little brighter than everyone around her: Molly isn't mean and snobby! Meg isn't a gawky sad sack! The tenor of their relationship is not rivalry at all -- they really, really love each other in a very sweet and straightforward way. And Meg's parents don't just love Molly, they love Meg, too! Seriously, who knew YA books were such a Rorschach test.
The palpable love relationships are what made the book more devastating to read as an adult. You see that Meg has always loved Molly and looked up to her, but she loses her at a time when she's starting to accept herself, too. Meg gains in strength but then has to see herself surpass Molly, whom Meg has always regarded as the stronger one. Meg is conscious of how much more beautiful Molly is, but as she grows in the book, she starts to love those things about Molly without any cost to herself. There is plenty of comparison between Meg's mousy brown hair and Molly's blond curls, but Meg doesn't agonize about it, even as she accepts she will never be as beautiful. It's clear that the quality Meg most wishes she had is Molly's warmth and openness. It's also clear that Meg has these qualities too, though she hasn't learned to recognize them.
Some weaknesses are that while Molly seems just right as an always-been-pretty fifteen, Meg is a little too good for her age. Meg chuckles indulgently at her father when he, true to form, dreams up building her a magnificent darkroom and forgets he can't afford it until after he's made the shopping list -- Meg is "pretty good at not agonizing." She finds her elderly neighbor, Will Banks, interesting enough to shoot a whole roll of film of him. Then in the shots where he was speaking about his wife, she sees how his love has beautified his face. Even though you get the sense she might like to be more popular in school, Meg values her very unconventional friendships with her much older neighbors. I don't know that young people are so quick to accept themselves, or that they would seek friendship with elderly people (or the hippies next door for that matter -- nice characters with a less satisfying story arc). I could be wrong, of course, and it's nice to think that an ugly-duckling type of young girl could be affirmed for who she is sufficiently to overcome her self-doubts at an early age. Shouldn't this be what we hope for our kids? Better at 13 than at 31.
Ultimately, I think Meg's strength makes it even more poignant when she confronts her sister's cancer armed only with the resources of a child. She thinks (though precociously, she acknowledges she's being unreasonable) it's her fault when Molly lands back in the hospital (for what ends up being the last time) because they had a fight and Meg didn't back down. She runs next door and blurts this out to Will Banks and the loving young hippie couple, then bursts into tears like the young person she is. Meg is so relatable and human, but seeing her act just as she should is devastating.