Revisiting Little Women

The Oscar buzz around the latest cinematic adaptation of Alcott’s classic made me realize how long it had been since I read it last. I had read an article giving a quick rundown of each of the Best Picture films. The author had made mention of all the feminist changes Gerwig had made to the original text.

I’ll never know what the person had to say in the rest of the article. I clicked out of the article, choosing, instead, to search Libby in hopes of checking the book out. Apparently, the movie didn’t inspire as many folks as I had thought as the time had not a single hold on it. Good news for me.

Louisa May Alcott was many things in her lifetime. A seamstress, a governess, a student of Thoreau and Emerson, a writer, an Underground Railroad stationmaster, and, last but not least, feminist. This meant feminist themes were already present in the text before Greta Gerwig taking a stab at adapting the work to screen. Better critique would be that Gerwig inserted more of Alcott’s experiences into the story and made a few modern twists to make the story relatable to modern audiences.

Mr. and Mrs. March were not quite the fictional carbon copies of the Alcotts. Both Mr. March and Mr. Alcott’s business decisions lead to financial difficulty. The couple living in the fictional Orchard House never minded the poverty into which they had fallen. They took the Pollyanna route and played “The Glad Game.” In the real world, the financial slump was not as easily reconciled. Louisa May Alcott’s view of the world was colored by her mother’s animosity toward her father.

This first-hand knowledge of how unequal the sexes were might account for how flat the male characters seem to be. It’s as if she wrote each one to decorate the scenes but never to dominate them. Mr. March is more significant in his absence than in his being present. Mr. Laurence, for all of his wealth in the novel, has very little power in the orbit of the March girls. Even Laurie does not fully come to life. The March women hold considerable hold over him and are almost responsible for his animation.

Alcott seems to be making a quiet statement here with her men. They have the professions and the concern of making a living. Or, in the case of Laurie, he has his father’s expectations to live up to. But, throughout the work, she makes a point to show that these men are dependant on the March women for everything.

Laurie only excels at his studies to impress Jo and make her believe he is worthy of her. When Jo does not take the job full time, he transfers his affections to Amy as she too can motivate him to improve himself. Mr. Laurence takes immense comfort in Beth’s love and admiration. Mr. March is, well, the father of four daughters. To say he is outnumbered is an understatement. She doesn’t even give him a male pet for an ally. John and Frederick fair a bit better, I suppose, but not much.

Going back to Gerwig’s take on the text, she does improve upon Professor Bhaer a bit. The scolding he gives Jo over her writing was, to me, anyway, was far better on screen than on the page. On the page, Jo took the admonishment like a child being scolded. Frankly, I was confused as to why she’d be attracted to Bhaer when he treats her like a kid.

On-screen, this scene, not just Frederick, gets a makeover. Jo lashes out against his harsh criticism as anyone, I don’t care what century, would. We get to see Jo proud of her work, ready to defend it like a Mama Bear. ( Pun intended.) This is implied in the book. But, the character’s emotion feels censored, which is most likely due to the time in which it was written.

Even with the cinematic improvements, the men don’t stand a chance here. And that’s probably part of the whole assumption that Gerwig was responsible for infusing a novel published in 1868 and 1869 with “modern” ideas. When in reality, women had been lobbying these very same ideas long before the publication of The Feminist Mystique. Alcott’s Little Women is set in the domestic sphere but very much takes aim at the self-importance of men.

But, this isn’t Little Men. (That came later.) Alcott’s main point is to paint a sharp picture with her women. In Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy, some say Alcott gave us the first portraits of an American Girl. Maybe that was an unintentional bonus. I don’t think that’s what she was getting at. Her long aside about being kind to spinsters changed my mind about that. Through her four sisters, she was illustrating the total sum choices available to women.

The sisters were early in the book divided into two sets, Meg with Amy and Jo with Beth. Meg and Amy are the perfect debutants. Genteel ladies of breeding and accomplishment. Mr. March made a remark about Meg being diligent about keeping her hands beautiful and white. Amy always focused on the shape of her nose being the wrong shape. Both girls were constantly nagging Jo about keeping her things tidy so as not to embarrass them.

Jo and Beth, in their own ways, were uninterested in the social wheelings and dealings. Beth lacks vanity, pride, guile, and all the rest of the undesirable traits. She is the idyllic child and woman. Jo is a tomboy through and through. She romps around, shakes hands, adds boyish flourishes to her dresses, and is never put together. Society doesn’t come easy to her because she has no desire and no understanding of how to please people.

For all of the similarities in the two sets of sisters, there are several significant differences, almost requiring a swap.

Amy and Meg differ in ambition. Meg’s outcome in life was a product of passion rather than calculation. Pointed out regularly in the book, Meg was the prettiest March sister. She could have made a much better match than the tutor Mr. Brooke. But, the heart wants what the heart wants. Meg was not the kind of person to argue against something so natural as that. In her choice, she sets herself on a path similar to her own mother in a life of simple domesticity.

Amy sees the world differently. She understands, better than any of her sisters, that compromise. While in the movie, Amy stands amidst an art studio about the injustices the marriage state puts on hetero relationships, this doesn’t happen in the book. Her character, though, probably understood that all the same. Again, I doubt we’d be sitting here talking about Little Women if Alcott had a scene like that. No one would have greenlit that.

Jo and Beth’s partnership also differs in this regard. Beth is content in the domestic sphere and rejects any other. She is made of such ethereal stuff, she can not survive the mortal world long. Jo, on the other hand, was made of much sterner stuff, despite her bouts of loneliness. Her determination would rival any woman today.

In the March sisters, Alcott has given an early commentary on the Madonna and whore complex. Obviously, Amy and Jo aren’t the traditional pictures of whores. But they do sell themselves in a way. And not because they want to, but because that is the options available to them.

A fan favorite without question, Jo is the black sheep in the family, as well as in society. Jo can be pleasing; however, she fails to win a following in greater Concord thanks to her awkwardness and need for independence. She sells her writing for profit rather than keeping the product as personal expression. Yet, Jo refused to sell herself in a marriage that would end in discord.

Amy gets the most shade for existing outside the normal sphere for women. She is willing to marry a man she likes but does not love. The youngest March is also ready to play, what seems like, sloppy seconds to her sister Jo in the man she married. On-screen in 1993 that is. Less so this time around, but her romance is cut abysmally short and shallow even in the latest adaptation. In some ways, as much as I am Team Jo, I feel that Amy is the ultimate success story in the March family.

That was not my original take on the epic the first time around. Amy was a snake. Jo, a martyr. And the other two women not really interesting. Revisiting this book as an adult has given me a new perspective. Well, Jo is still my hero. I don’t think that is going to change any time soon. But, Alcott aimed this take at children, but I think this has more to offer for adults.

I don’t recall getting as emotional the first time around, which was occasionally problematic, seeing as I listen to books while in the gym. Getting Misty on a treadmill is a bit embarrassing just so you know. Tears and all, I recommend taking a trip back to 1860s New England to spend time with the March sisters, or as I like to say, the original Sex in the City brunch crew.