Thoughts on Louisa May Alcott’s LITTLE WOMEN
If you’re a fan of literature as I am, join me as I briefly look and think through some highlighted books — as I work on reading a book a week — for the next year! The first installment is below:
1) Thoughts on Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women.
One of the most compelling, intimate and human stories I have ever lost myself in is Louisa May Alcott’s classic coming of age pastoral Little Women. Being made into numerous film adaptations, an opera, a musical, several TV series and more, this eloquent and didactic novel is written in a grippingly authentic prose that captivated me from page one. Little Women has been revered and loved by audiences since its conception in 1868 and, after watching Greta Gerwig’s 2019 rendition of the timeless story, I decided to read the book in full (I had only read the children’s version as a kid but never the original). Before I offer my thoughts and interpretation of the novel as a consumer, I thought it worthwhile to briefly outline what is known and relevant about Louisa May Alcott. Though I generally do not think this is a necessary step (as it can induce the autobiographical fallacy) I believe that the authenticity and transparency in this book are enriched by understanding a few key elements of the author in question’s life.
Alcott grew up in Massachusetts in an intellectual, artistic but financially struggling family. She had an older sister who married young (which we know based off of her diary was deeply challenging for her) and two younger sisters, one of whom she often had small quarrels with and the other was sickly and passed away in her early twenties. Due to her family’s financial troubles, her youngest sister was the only one able to go to school. If these situations sound familiar to you, that is a good sign. It is about as clear as it can be when involving fiction that Alcott based her characters (Meg, Beth and Amy) on her three sisters and, as follows, Jo was likely based on herself. Therefore, most literary historians refer to this book as a semi-autobiographical novel. However, Alcott’s life differed from that of her heroine (Jo) in at least two appreciable ways. First, she never married and second, as she once said in an interview “[she] never once had the least bit interest in a man.” Though the later difference is weaker as there were journal entries, which she herself removed before her death, that suggest she may have had some romance with a polish man named Ladislas “Laddie” Wisniewski (on whom her character Laurie is almost certainly based).
Alcott was, and remains, an important historical figure who was both a proponent for feminism and abolition. She often went on runs and openly encouraged her young female readers to run, read, write and challenge other prevailing social norms. Interestingly, her family home was also likely a stop on the underground railway, though that is not of much relevance to the story at hand except perhaps in that it demonstrates her transcendentalist philosophy and genuine care for human beings which are definitely major themes in her authorial masterpiece. Let’s get into it.
Little Women is a very uplifting story that masterfully articulates so many compelling human experiences. It explores both the joys of family, love, purpose and independence as well as the sorrows of loneliness, conflicting feelings and loss. By using the simple, yet fulfilling, lives of the March family as her canvas, I feel Alcott showcases beauty in simplicity and effectively captures many pastoral sentiments. However, in not shying away from the hardships and sadness’s that are present in the sister’s lives, the tale seems to suggest that beauty and goodness are things to be strived for. That they are things that need to be found in one’s situation regardless of how dismal it may seem. The result is that the overarching message comes across very positive and moralistic. Though I find that often the topics of ‘beauty’ and ‘moral goodness’ are often tastelessly or overbearingly pushed into writing in order to appease some particular group or conform to the societal headspace, I found Alcott’s book to approach these topics from a tasteful and individualistic angle. It seemed as if she was really using them to capture the reader, enthral them with a well-told tale, and then redirect the reader’s empathy towards the importance of free-spirited women – a class to which all of the March’s belonged – having opportunity and autonomy.
While some books rely predominantly on dialogue to further the narrative and others primarily use circumstantial descriptions and narrated accounts of the story, Little women fantastically utilizes both with incredible effectiveness. Each line of dialogue not only adds to the story but develops the dynamic and unique characters, their (often changing) relationships with each other, and provides nuances that add flavor to the story. Each paragraph of narration brings us closer to understanding a character’s motives, their core characteristics and how a particular experience was turned into a lesson or period of growth for them as a person. Indeed, almost every chapter brings out a new side in someone, further evidencing the dynamic nature of Little Women (though most coming of age/bildungsroman-styled novels are centered, at least partially, on change).
I can honestly say that there was not a part of the story that was uninteresting or seemed an irrelevant, tangential oration. Every piece of information, whether revealed through gripping dialogue or through poetic narration, acts like water to quench the thirst of a parched traveller. Simply put, the more I learned, the more I desired to learn. This is a beautiful thing when reading. There are many books that tell compelling and interesting stories but either get bogged down in details or are too short to satisfy the reader’s hunger to learn more. There are yet others that are written well but lose appeal when it is revealed that the story is static or boring. In my opinion, considering the style of writing and the nature of the story, Alcott’s classic is a perfect balance.
I find Jo’s character especially interesting. Perhaps it is because so much of the author’s own character is speaking through her or perhaps because she is so human and real in portrayal that she seems almost like a real person. Either way, Jo March, as with other characters such as Scout Finch and Harry Potter, is memorable and timeless. Her boyish inclinations, authorial tendencies and struggles with loneliness, ambition and compromise speak to me profoundly as they have spoken to many others across many generations. For instance, I spoke with my Grandma the other day and learned that the first movie she ever saw was Little Women with her dad. She remembered it fondly and recalled saying (albeit with a limited ability to compare) that it was “the best movie [she’d] ever seen.” This is a particularly potent example of the impact one well-molded character can have on a generation of readers.
As is probably obvious, I am a fan of this book and wholeheartedly recommend reading it for yourself if you haven’t already. There are many other interesting aspects that I would love to dive into but its getting late and I’m tired. Let me just finish by saying that I feel the characters developed in Little Women eclipse most characters developed in even the greatest of stories in depth and transparency. I sometimes think that, in some sense, a well created character is almost more real than a living person as they are not confined to one short lifetime but can live unchanged, uncorrupted, forever. But, of course, that is only a thought.
Let me know if you got anything interesting out this or if you’d like to hear more. If not, hopefully I’ll see you next week for another thought in another book that influenced me.
Best wishes,
Ben
