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Little Women Saturday
Mar. 5th, 2022 11:04 amWe’re rushing in Little Women, because I want to finish it before I leave for NYC. Therefore I’ve got a lot of chapters to cover, so today I’ll talk about Meg and Jo and Amy, and tomorrow will post In Memoriam Beth March, Requiscat in Pace.
In Meg’s chapter, Meg has gotten so wrapped up in her twins that she’s started neglecting her husband, and Marmee tells Meg that she needs to get out more - leave the babies with a babysitter and go on date nights with your husband, hon! - but also let John take part in rearing the children. Co-parenting their children will make them stronger as a couple and also knit them together as a family! I would say, “That’s so modern!”, but in fact nineteenth century children’s literature is littered with involved and loving fathers. I think often we call things “modern” when in fact we mean “this is the part of the past that we like.”
Meanwhile, Jo has stumbled into one of literature’s more bizarre love triangles. Last time I read this book I had no strong feelings re: the shipping question; this time, I have joined legions of readers in shrieking “LOUISA, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?” Alcott admitted that she “made a funny match for Jo” on purpose to annoy the readers who inundated her with letters begging for Jo and Laurie to get together, and the juxtaposition of these chapters seems designed to rub in the contrast between middle-aged censorious Bhaer and young passionate Laurie…
Who, yes, certainly has a lot of growing up to do, based on his reaction to Jo’s rejection. But they’re both so young! They could both do with some time and life experience to grow them up before they settle down.
At the beginning of this sequence, Jo, in search of life experience, and also hoping to leave the field free for Beth (whom she believes is in love with Laurie, although in fact Beth is preoccupied with her impending death), goes to New York City. She makes a pile of money from sensation stories, and then given up scribbling after a scolding from Professor Bhaer.
In the book - I had forgotten this - Bhaer never actually reads any of her stories. In movie adaptations she often gives him her work for criticism; here, he’s simply inveighing against sensation stories as a category, because they lead readers astray, presumably by offering a false and misleading view of human character, although neither he nor Alcott spell it out. Anyway, Jo is so abashed that she gives up not only sensation stories but writing altogether.
Then in the very next chapter Laurie confesses his love to her, and proposes, and Jo turns him down, and tells him (among other things), “You’d hate my scribbling.” But we never see Laurie say a word against Jo’s scribbling. It’s Professor Bhaer who is “satisfied” to see that “she had given up writing.” Louisa, are you having a jolly time thumbing your nose at us all?
Anyway, Laurie is SO crushed by Jo’s rejection that he runs away to Europe, where he begins to spend a lot of time hanging out with Amy. There’s an Extremely Symbolic exchange where he tries to pick a red rose and gets scratched on the thorns, and Amy tells him “Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns.”
AMY IS THE LOWER ROSE WITHOUT ANY THORNS. DO YOU GET IT? DO YOU GET IT? Alcott spends the next few paragraphs expanding the analogy just in case you don’t.
I really wonder how Alcott’s real life youngest sister May felt about the portrayal of Amy. Fortunately this love triangle is not drawn from a real-life incident, but May really did have artistic ambitions, and she must have felt some kind of way about Louisa making Amy say, “talent isn’t genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won’t be a common-place dauber, so I don’t intend to try any more.”
(Admittedly, Amy is saying this while in process of sketching Laurie, so what she really means is “I’ve laid aside my professional ambitions,” not “I will never draw again!” But still.)
I suppose the real-life Meg might also have objected to her portrayal in the books, but she didn’t have generations of readers baying for her blood after her character broke up their OTP. I really wonder if May sometimes thought, oh God, Louisa is truly the Bad Art Sister.
In Meg’s chapter, Meg has gotten so wrapped up in her twins that she’s started neglecting her husband, and Marmee tells Meg that she needs to get out more - leave the babies with a babysitter and go on date nights with your husband, hon! - but also let John take part in rearing the children. Co-parenting their children will make them stronger as a couple and also knit them together as a family! I would say, “That’s so modern!”, but in fact nineteenth century children’s literature is littered with involved and loving fathers. I think often we call things “modern” when in fact we mean “this is the part of the past that we like.”
Meanwhile, Jo has stumbled into one of literature’s more bizarre love triangles. Last time I read this book I had no strong feelings re: the shipping question; this time, I have joined legions of readers in shrieking “LOUISA, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?” Alcott admitted that she “made a funny match for Jo” on purpose to annoy the readers who inundated her with letters begging for Jo and Laurie to get together, and the juxtaposition of these chapters seems designed to rub in the contrast between middle-aged censorious Bhaer and young passionate Laurie…
Who, yes, certainly has a lot of growing up to do, based on his reaction to Jo’s rejection. But they’re both so young! They could both do with some time and life experience to grow them up before they settle down.
At the beginning of this sequence, Jo, in search of life experience, and also hoping to leave the field free for Beth (whom she believes is in love with Laurie, although in fact Beth is preoccupied with her impending death), goes to New York City. She makes a pile of money from sensation stories, and then given up scribbling after a scolding from Professor Bhaer.
In the book - I had forgotten this - Bhaer never actually reads any of her stories. In movie adaptations she often gives him her work for criticism; here, he’s simply inveighing against sensation stories as a category, because they lead readers astray, presumably by offering a false and misleading view of human character, although neither he nor Alcott spell it out. Anyway, Jo is so abashed that she gives up not only sensation stories but writing altogether.
Then in the very next chapter Laurie confesses his love to her, and proposes, and Jo turns him down, and tells him (among other things), “You’d hate my scribbling.” But we never see Laurie say a word against Jo’s scribbling. It’s Professor Bhaer who is “satisfied” to see that “she had given up writing.” Louisa, are you having a jolly time thumbing your nose at us all?
Anyway, Laurie is SO crushed by Jo’s rejection that he runs away to Europe, where he begins to spend a lot of time hanging out with Amy. There’s an Extremely Symbolic exchange where he tries to pick a red rose and gets scratched on the thorns, and Amy tells him “Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns.”
AMY IS THE LOWER ROSE WITHOUT ANY THORNS. DO YOU GET IT? DO YOU GET IT? Alcott spends the next few paragraphs expanding the analogy just in case you don’t.
I really wonder how Alcott’s real life youngest sister May felt about the portrayal of Amy. Fortunately this love triangle is not drawn from a real-life incident, but May really did have artistic ambitions, and she must have felt some kind of way about Louisa making Amy say, “talent isn’t genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won’t be a common-place dauber, so I don’t intend to try any more.”
(Admittedly, Amy is saying this while in process of sketching Laurie, so what she really means is “I’ve laid aside my professional ambitions,” not “I will never draw again!” But still.)
I suppose the real-life Meg might also have objected to her portrayal in the books, but she didn’t have generations of readers baying for her blood after her character broke up their OTP. I really wonder if May sometimes thought, oh God, Louisa is truly the Bad Art Sister.
