Book Review - Why I Love 'Little Women' by Louisa May Alcott

Having watched the 1994 version of ‘Little Women’ recently, I decided to re-read the book for the… I don’t know how many times I’ve read it now.

I’m sure most everyone knows what the book is basically about, but I’ll still say SPOILERS AHEAD.

Set during the American Civil War, the story follows the four daughters of the March family – Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy – as they grow and try to find their place in the world with their mother’s help while their father is away, serving as a chaplain for the Union Army.

The book is in two parts. The first covers the girls as they navigate the trials of growing up while holding fast to their dreams. The second, sometimes published as ‘Good Wives’, finds them negotiating and coping with responsibilities that come with adulthood, including marriage and independence.

Although there are other characters who feature quite a lot, namely Laurie, I’ll be talking mainly about the girls and their beloved Marmee.

The first thing I love about this story is how distinct the characters of the four girls are, each with their own voice.

Meg, the oldest, “was sixteen, and very pretty, being plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair…”
Fifteen-year-old Josephine or “Jo was very tall, thin and brown, and reminded one of a colt… with her long limbs… Her long, thick hair was her one beauty…”
“Elizabeth, or Beth… was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression… Her father called her ‘Little Tranquility’… for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own…”
“Amy, though the youngest, was a most important person, in her own opinion at least. A regular snow maiden, with blue eyes, and yellow hair curling on her shoulders… and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners.”

The family, once wealthy, has fallen on hard times, so the two older girls have to work to help with the family finances, Meg as a governess for a rich family and Jo as companion to their old Aunt March.

As with the writing of the time, there is a fair amount of wordiness, something I confess I do find a tad trying, but Alcott makes up for it with copious amounts of realistic dialogue. And it is mainly through dialogue that we get to know the girls and the other characters.

The character development is well done; as the story progresses, we see how the girls grow and change according to the situations they find themselves in.

In the chapter titled, ‘Castles in the Air’, they talk of their dreams…
Meg says, “I should like a lovely house, full of all sorts of luxurious things… I am to be mistress of it and manage it as I like, with plenty of servants, so I never need work a bit… I wouldn’t be idle, but do good…”
Jo wants “to do something splendid… something heroic or wonderful, that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead. I don’t know what, but… I mean to astonish you all… I think I shall write books and get rich and famous; that would suit me…”
Not surprisingly, Beth’s wish is simple. “Mine is to stay at home safe with father and mother, and help take care of the family… Since I had my little piano I am perfectly satisfied.”
Amy’s pet wish “is to be an artist, and go to Rome, and do fine pictures, and be the best artist in the whole world.”

In the second part of the book, we see how they deal with trying to make those dreams come true and coming to terms with the hand life deals them.

Meg, who yearned for the life of a rich woman in a luxurious house, grows to see where true riches lie, in the love of a good man who works hard to provide for his family, and a happy home.

While striving to make a living as a writer, Jo succumbs to the thrill of earning easy money by writing sensationalist stories. She doesn’t stop to question how it affects her integrity as a writer. Eventually, she comes to the realisation that she’d sacrificed her creative authenticity for money and returns to writing from the heart.

Many seem to view Beth as a boring, goody-two-shoes because she’s quiet and happy to stay close to home. But Alcott describes the girl as having “her troubles as well as the others; and not being an angel, but a very human little girl, she often ‘wept a little weep,’… because she couldn’t take music lessons and have a fine piano…” In her own private way, she rails against her encroaching illness, knowing she doesn’t have long to live, before coming to terms with her short life.

Early on in the book, in Chapter 4, there is the most subtle example of foreshadowing I’ve ever remembered reading…
“There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully, that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind.”

As for Amy, the spoilt little girl matures into an accomplished young lady whose moral compass has been steadied enough that she’s able to set Laurie straight.

First published in 1868, the book very much reflects the values of that time.

There are constant references to God and filial duty; the importance of family; the accepted way to behave; what was expected of women as daughters, wives and mothers as they were very much seen as the anchor and mainstay of a blessed home.

Alcott’s family were transcendentalists – those who believed in self-dependence, spiritual guidance and the development of sound morals while acknowledging and embracing our relationship with nature – and her beliefs permeate the story.

When I first read the book as a young girl, I enjoyed it as a family story about four girls. It was only when I re-read it in my 20s, did I appreciate that each chapter takes the girls – and the reader – on a similar journey as that of Christian in John Bunyan’s ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress’.

Although Bunyan’s book is not outrightly named, there are nods to it throughout the story.

At the beginning of the story, each of the girls receives a copy as a Christmas present from Marmee; they endeavour to read from it every morning on awakening and even refer to themselves as pilgrims.

Alcott has cleverly based some of her chapter names on those in Bunyan’s book – ‘Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful’; ‘Amy’s Valley of Humiliation’; ‘The Valley of the Shadow’.

Some find the constant references to the divine too preachy to stomach and say that drags the book down.

To each their own, but I disagree.

Many of the references tend to be framed in sound advice from Marmee, in particular, to her daughters. She doesn’t ram her advice down their throats but offers it to them in a loving manner, which usually inspires the girls to do their best.

Things like belief in God, belief in duty and honour, were held in high esteem then. These days, not so much. In fact, to some, ‘duty’ and ‘honour’ are almost dirty words.

When Jo is filled with remorse and guilt that Amy almost died after falling through the ice, she tearfully berates herself for her “dreadful temper”, begging her mother to help her control it.

When Marmee tells her, “You think your temper is the worst in the world; but mine used to be just like it.”, Jo, surprised, says, “you are never angry!”
“I’ve been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo; but I have learned not to show it…”
She explains that it’s Mr March who helps her learn to control her temper… “He never loses patience, never doubts or complains, but always hopes, and works and waits so cheerfully, that one is ashamed to do otherwise before him. He helped and comforted me…”

Jo is confused when Marmee confesses she misses Mr March – “you told him to go, mother, and didn’t cry when he went, and never complain now…”
“I gave my best to the country I love, and kept my tears till he was gone. Why should I complain, when we both have merely done our duty, and will be the happier for it in the end?”

The Alcott family’s progressive ideals are seen in Marmee’s “plans” for her girls, which she explains to Meg and Jo:
“I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good; to be admired, loved, and respected, to have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman; and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience… My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes, because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious thing, and, when well used, a noble thing, but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I’d rather see you poor men’s wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace.”

I’m not going to add to the never-ending debate as to whether Alcott wanted Jo, whom Alcott based on herself, to remain single but was forced by her publisher to have the character marry.

I’ve gotten to the point of finding the whole discussion a tad wearying.

This is purely about the story itself. I don’t see Jo getting married as compromising the character in any way simply because Alcott herself never married.

In those days, many women saw marriage as their ‘end’ goal, as it were, and those who remained single were considered odd.

Being a wife and mother was not looked down on, as tends to happen in our modern era.

Nowadays, generally speaking, women who choose to be wives and mothers and not career women are regarded as, somehow, inferior and less intelligent.

But Jo as a person does not change just because she has married. She is no less intelligent because she has become a wife and mother.

And that’s yet another thing I love about this story. Despite not being a wife and mother herself, Alcott presents both roles realistically while showing how valued they are.

Returning to the time in which the novel was set, again, for many, financial reasons were a big factor in their marriage.

Alcott, on the other hand, promoted her ideal of marriage among equals.

And this is what she gave Jo by marrying her to Friedrich Bhaer.

Alcott was right in not marrying Jo to Laurie. Although they’re the greatest of friends, he was too immature for her. I don’t think he actually understood Jo and the workings of her mind.

Instead, Alcott gave her the best of both worlds – having a lifelong, loving companion while still exercising her independent streak – in Friedrich.

He encouraged her to write, to follow her heart and supported her. Their union wasn’t simply a meeting of hearts but of the mind too; he challenged her intellectually.

Seeing as how the character was an amalgam of the two men she greatly admired, was probably even a little in love with – Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson, considered the leaders of transcendentalism – maybe Alcott gave Jo the man she would have chosen for herself.

That she wrote him as a German is, most likely, the icing on the cake as she had a deep love of all things German.

The March family is probably my most favourite family in literature.

They endure difficulties and terrible loss; they argue and fight; they rail against their poverty and hardships, but through it all, they remain together.

There is one scene I find particularly touching, between Jo and her father, as she struggles to come to terms with losing Beth while trying very hard to replace the lost sister…
Feeling “all wrong”, she goes to her father who, likewise, seemed “as if he, too, needed help…”
Jo tells him “her troubles, the resentful sorrow for her loss, the fruitless efforts that discouraged her, the want of faith that made life look so dark, and all the sad bewilderment which we call despair. She gave him entire confidence, and he gave her the help she needed, and both found consolation in the act…”

For me, scenes like this and the way the book ends with the girls gathered around their mother as they celebrate her birthday, underlines the high esteem in which Alcott held families.

Well aware of how much I love the book, I admit to being a little surprised as to how much I actually enjoyed reading it again.

So much so, I think I might make reading ‘Little Women’ a yearly December read.