Little Women (Little Women, #1)

Author: Louisa May Alcott

Rating: ⭐ 4/5

Date Read: 2012/05/04

Pages: 449

It’s my general conviction that every young woman (and most grown-up women) who fancies herself an outcast from the popular set and dreams of someday writing the great American novel identifies with Jo March. Sure, she takes wine “only medicinally,” which is a sentiment I cannot abide. Plus, she considers herself “old” at 30, and she’s surprisingly uncritical of the patriarchal society that she ineffectually rebels against. However, Jo March, temperance aside, remains the best reason to read Little Women.

If the 1994 film is to be believed, the moral of the story is to write from the heart, because writing for money won’t get you anywhere. Given that Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women to make a quick buck, this sentiment feels amusingly ironic. Like Jane Austen, Alcott recognized that financial security frees women from debasing themselves by thinking too much of money. Mrs. March pays lip service to the idea that it is better to be poor and happy than rich and unhappy; however, Alcott’s message is not that mo’ money means mo’ problems. Certainly, the best thing to be is rich and happy, like dear Teddy Laurence.

Reading this as an adult for the first time is an entirely different experience, I assume, from reading it as a child. Expect to be preached to, but in the most heartwarming way possible. Expect many mentions of “that heavenly friend,” especially during the first half of the book. Expect to be bored with vacuous, sanctimonious Beth (seriously, Beth talks about how “dumb” and unambitious she is throughout the entire book, and everyone else talks about how marvelous she is. 21st century mind cannot compute these data). My advice: read it with a glass of (non-medicinal) wine and the happy knowledge that times, undeniably, have changed.