Let me just preface this by saying I absolutely loved the book. Gave it 4 stars on Goodreads. Would have given it 4.5 if they had half-star ratings on the site. This book is so beautiful, and the reader can definitely feel how much love and care was put into every page. The emphasis on feminine relationships and familial bonds are so authentic and unlike anything I've read in any other novel. Reading about the love and camaraderie the Marches have for each other, the conflicts they share, and the way those conflicts resolve and strengthen their bonds, all remind me how much I love my own sister. I should call her and let her know.
And while I love all of these things, the relationships are somewhat disappointing.
Does Alcott know this? Did she intend for her characters to be married off to men I personally do not think deserve these girls, and I am willing to march down to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, summon her with a seance, and ask her ghost, "Why?"
Okay, so I want to say that Mr. Brooke is probably the man I have the least of an issue with, especially near the beginning of his and Meg's budding relationship. When Laurie first approaches Jo and tells her that Meg has an admirer, I felt placed in Jo's shoes. Who is coming for dear Meg? Is he worthy? Will he treat her right? I mean, it's like 1860 or something, so I can't really expect an egalitarian relationship, but that doesn't mean I can't hold this suitor to high standards. And when we first meet Mr. Brooke, he seems alright. I mean, he's not rich, but I applaud Meg for choosing love over wealth. And their courtship is very cute. Oh, to have a man hold my lost glove tenderly against his heart. Their wedding ceremony was really refreshing to read about, especially given the time. It's so casual, and to see Meg and Mr. Brooke work together to set up the wedding and give absolutely no care to cultural practices (Meg pretty much tells her family, "So what if my future husband sees me in my wedding gown before the ceremony?") that it gave me high hopes for their future.
Their marriage is standard. And Reader, know that I am extremely biased as a 21st century woman with her preconceived notions of how modern relationships should work and absolutely applying them to this marriage from, like, 150 years ago. Should I be doing that? No, but I did.
Their house is small and extremely modest, but they make it work. Meg, for some reason, does not have a lot of cooking skills. Hannah should have taught her. But I do sympathize with Meg struggling to cook, as I have also nearly set my house on fire from putting olive oil into a too-hot skillet while trying to follow a recipe for fillet mignon. Mr. Brooke does start off sympathetic as well toward his new wife, but their conflict arises when she spends the day making jelly, and he brings over his friend for dinner. Oh, my sweet summer children, please communicate better. The fact that he gets mad at her for not having dinner prepared when she's clearly struggling makes my heart ache for poor Meg. Did he not think to say to Meg, "Hey after work I'm bringing my friend over so please don't experiment with jelly or anything too difficult k thanks bye."
Then, of course, when they have children, and he gets butthurt that Meg is trying her best to take care of her children when he wants attention, too. Like, Mr. Brooke, don't get jealous of your own babies. I sort of understand why Marmee told Meg that she should be patient with her husband and try to balance her time with both children and husband, but like, shouldn't Mr. Brooke have seen Meg struggle with raising their children and go, "Oh, hey, maybe I should help my wife who is trying so hard to raise our teething children." I mean, eventually they do find a balance, so everything becomes okay.
Their relationship is okay, and it works out, but dang are they pretty clueless on how things should work.
And then Laurie. Sweet, sweet Laurie.
The fact that Laurie and Jo were so close as friends growing up that the reader automatically assumes that the two will eventually marry probably comes down to the the idea that men and women can't just be friends, they obviously will fall in love with each other. Pop culture icon of our time Avril Lavigne says it best: "He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious?" Heteronormativity is engrained in probably most of us, so I stand with the crowd of people that have read Little Women, mouth agape, when Jo realizes Laurie has feelings for her, and literally runs away to New York to avoid it.
In the beginning, I was so hoping Laurie and Jo would be endgame. In Part First, they were so cute. Inseparable. One and the same. I thought they absolutely were written in the stars. As I came to Part Second, my heart broke when I realized the incompatibility of the two. Jo just wanted to be friends, and as much as I wanted them to be together, I was refreshed to see that Alcott was trying to take a nuanced approach to their relationship. In many novels I've read, both old and new, the close friends of opposite sex are pretty much destined. That Alcott decided to keep them as friends and only friends is really refreshing. Laurie's declaration of love, I can assume, gained many readers' sympathies, but to me, after spending so much time in Jo's point of view, learning how much she dreaded rejecting him, I thought the young man was pitiful. He played the "I love you so by default, you should love me back" mentality that I just can't get behind. It's entitled. I get rejection sucks so hard, but he shouldn't see the friendzone as a bad thing. Come on, Laurie, you're better than that.
I don't have much to say about Amy. I was shocked to see she did not end up becoming a mercenary, as she put it, falling in love with Fred, but I admire her for it. Fred and Amy seemed like they had some potential, but if I could respect Jo's decision to decline Laurie, then I can respect Amy's decision as well. However, there is absolutely no way Amy isn't just Laurie's rebound. We all know it. It's like when I dated my ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend simply because they were extremely similar people and I was not over her yet, and so I could basically have the male version of my ex-girlfriend. He couldn't have Jo, so he went after her sister. I mean, it worked out, I guess, but when I read spoilers about how Amy and Laurie were endgame, I did not see how it could possibly work. As I read it, they do have some sort of chemistry, but it was so rushed that I can't get behind it. Laurie spent years pining for Jo and only a few months with Amy. I can see them balancing each other out perfectly fine, but I wish Alcott let the two court longer. Their elopement brought on so quickly so they could travel back to America doesn't feel appropriate for the two. Maybe I just wanted to see the Marches and Laurences at the wedding, and then have Jo and Laurie's closure happen at said wedding. That would be more satisfying to me.
And of course, my biggest bone to pick, Jo and Mr. Bhaer.
When Mr. Bhaer and Jo first met, I had the assumption that the professor was simply a fatherly figure. Or, at least, a mentor to help her achieve her goals of becoming an accomplished writer. I mean, he is nearly twice her age. That's like if I would end up with Dr. Amyot. It's just something that's not supposed to happen. If I was her parents, I would not have agreed with it.
I took Jo's interest in him in Chapter 34 as merely someone she looked up to. Jo is the sister who is so focused on literature and gaining knowledge that it makes perfect sense for her to see the professor as a mentor. When she writes for the Volcano, it is Mr. Bhaer that scolds her for writing immoral stories. This came off to me as fatherly chastisement.
Then, when Laurie is quick to show jealousy toward the professor, fearing the older man will become her lover, I found that to be utterly ridiculous. In that moment, it felt more like Laurie being possessive of Jo in a I'm-threatened-by-every-man-you-have-a-positive-relationship-with level of immaturity rather than foreshadowing. In a perfect world, Jo wouldn't have fallen for Mr. Bhaer, and Laurie would have come to terms with the fact that women and men can be just friends.
The farther along I got into the book, the more disappointed with Jo's relationship I had become. Where was the young woman who was so determined to live an independent life? Why couldn't she have run the school Mr. Bhaer as just a colleague? (Also, why did Aunt March will her estate to Jo instead of Meg who was the oldest, or Amy who was her favorite?) Jo finishing the novel has a schoolteacher seems fitting for her, though it would be cool to see her as a novelist, but as a homemaker as well? It just doesn't sit right with me. As I was scrolling through the internet one night, trying to reconcile with Jo's ending, I had come across an article by USA Today that mentioned Alcott had originally intended for Jo to remain unmarried. It was under the advice of the publisher that she paired Jo off, since a single Jo would not have sold as much as a married Jo. It breaks my heart to see Alcott pressured to change her intentions in order to please readers.
When learning about the change in endings, Jo's relationship made much more sense. Mr. Bhaer was supposed to be Jo's mentor and friend and nothing else. It isn't Alcott's fault for letting me down; it's everyone else's. And while I was able to reconcile my feelings toward Meg's and Amy's marriages, I will probably never agree with Jo's. And that's okay. Because now Louisa May Alcott can rest in Sleepy Hollow knowing that she at least has one reader who took her side.
And while I love all of these things, the relationships are somewhat disappointing.
Does Alcott know this? Did she intend for her characters to be married off to men I personally do not think deserve these girls, and I am willing to march down to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, summon her with a seance, and ask her ghost, "Why?"
Okay, so I want to say that Mr. Brooke is probably the man I have the least of an issue with, especially near the beginning of his and Meg's budding relationship. When Laurie first approaches Jo and tells her that Meg has an admirer, I felt placed in Jo's shoes. Who is coming for dear Meg? Is he worthy? Will he treat her right? I mean, it's like 1860 or something, so I can't really expect an egalitarian relationship, but that doesn't mean I can't hold this suitor to high standards. And when we first meet Mr. Brooke, he seems alright. I mean, he's not rich, but I applaud Meg for choosing love over wealth. And their courtship is very cute. Oh, to have a man hold my lost glove tenderly against his heart. Their wedding ceremony was really refreshing to read about, especially given the time. It's so casual, and to see Meg and Mr. Brooke work together to set up the wedding and give absolutely no care to cultural practices (Meg pretty much tells her family, "So what if my future husband sees me in my wedding gown before the ceremony?") that it gave me high hopes for their future.
Their marriage is standard. And Reader, know that I am extremely biased as a 21st century woman with her preconceived notions of how modern relationships should work and absolutely applying them to this marriage from, like, 150 years ago. Should I be doing that? No, but I did.
Their house is small and extremely modest, but they make it work. Meg, for some reason, does not have a lot of cooking skills. Hannah should have taught her. But I do sympathize with Meg struggling to cook, as I have also nearly set my house on fire from putting olive oil into a too-hot skillet while trying to follow a recipe for fillet mignon. Mr. Brooke does start off sympathetic as well toward his new wife, but their conflict arises when she spends the day making jelly, and he brings over his friend for dinner. Oh, my sweet summer children, please communicate better. The fact that he gets mad at her for not having dinner prepared when she's clearly struggling makes my heart ache for poor Meg. Did he not think to say to Meg, "Hey after work I'm bringing my friend over so please don't experiment with jelly or anything too difficult k thanks bye."
Then, of course, when they have children, and he gets butthurt that Meg is trying her best to take care of her children when he wants attention, too. Like, Mr. Brooke, don't get jealous of your own babies. I sort of understand why Marmee told Meg that she should be patient with her husband and try to balance her time with both children and husband, but like, shouldn't Mr. Brooke have seen Meg struggle with raising their children and go, "Oh, hey, maybe I should help my wife who is trying so hard to raise our teething children." I mean, eventually they do find a balance, so everything becomes okay.
Their relationship is okay, and it works out, but dang are they pretty clueless on how things should work.
And then Laurie. Sweet, sweet Laurie.
The fact that Laurie and Jo were so close as friends growing up that the reader automatically assumes that the two will eventually marry probably comes down to the the idea that men and women can't just be friends, they obviously will fall in love with each other. Pop culture icon of our time Avril Lavigne says it best: "He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious?" Heteronormativity is engrained in probably most of us, so I stand with the crowd of people that have read Little Women, mouth agape, when Jo realizes Laurie has feelings for her, and literally runs away to New York to avoid it.
In the beginning, I was so hoping Laurie and Jo would be endgame. In Part First, they were so cute. Inseparable. One and the same. I thought they absolutely were written in the stars. As I came to Part Second, my heart broke when I realized the incompatibility of the two. Jo just wanted to be friends, and as much as I wanted them to be together, I was refreshed to see that Alcott was trying to take a nuanced approach to their relationship. In many novels I've read, both old and new, the close friends of opposite sex are pretty much destined. That Alcott decided to keep them as friends and only friends is really refreshing. Laurie's declaration of love, I can assume, gained many readers' sympathies, but to me, after spending so much time in Jo's point of view, learning how much she dreaded rejecting him, I thought the young man was pitiful. He played the "I love you so by default, you should love me back" mentality that I just can't get behind. It's entitled. I get rejection sucks so hard, but he shouldn't see the friendzone as a bad thing. Come on, Laurie, you're better than that.
I don't have much to say about Amy. I was shocked to see she did not end up becoming a mercenary, as she put it, falling in love with Fred, but I admire her for it. Fred and Amy seemed like they had some potential, but if I could respect Jo's decision to decline Laurie, then I can respect Amy's decision as well. However, there is absolutely no way Amy isn't just Laurie's rebound. We all know it. It's like when I dated my ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend simply because they were extremely similar people and I was not over her yet, and so I could basically have the male version of my ex-girlfriend. He couldn't have Jo, so he went after her sister. I mean, it worked out, I guess, but when I read spoilers about how Amy and Laurie were endgame, I did not see how it could possibly work. As I read it, they do have some sort of chemistry, but it was so rushed that I can't get behind it. Laurie spent years pining for Jo and only a few months with Amy. I can see them balancing each other out perfectly fine, but I wish Alcott let the two court longer. Their elopement brought on so quickly so they could travel back to America doesn't feel appropriate for the two. Maybe I just wanted to see the Marches and Laurences at the wedding, and then have Jo and Laurie's closure happen at said wedding. That would be more satisfying to me.
And of course, my biggest bone to pick, Jo and Mr. Bhaer.
When Mr. Bhaer and Jo first met, I had the assumption that the professor was simply a fatherly figure. Or, at least, a mentor to help her achieve her goals of becoming an accomplished writer. I mean, he is nearly twice her age. That's like if I would end up with Dr. Amyot. It's just something that's not supposed to happen. If I was her parents, I would not have agreed with it.
I took Jo's interest in him in Chapter 34 as merely someone she looked up to. Jo is the sister who is so focused on literature and gaining knowledge that it makes perfect sense for her to see the professor as a mentor. When she writes for the Volcano, it is Mr. Bhaer that scolds her for writing immoral stories. This came off to me as fatherly chastisement.
Then, when Laurie is quick to show jealousy toward the professor, fearing the older man will become her lover, I found that to be utterly ridiculous. In that moment, it felt more like Laurie being possessive of Jo in a I'm-threatened-by-every-man-you-have-a-positive-relationship-with level of immaturity rather than foreshadowing. In a perfect world, Jo wouldn't have fallen for Mr. Bhaer, and Laurie would have come to terms with the fact that women and men can be just friends.
The farther along I got into the book, the more disappointed with Jo's relationship I had become. Where was the young woman who was so determined to live an independent life? Why couldn't she have run the school Mr. Bhaer as just a colleague? (Also, why did Aunt March will her estate to Jo instead of Meg who was the oldest, or Amy who was her favorite?) Jo finishing the novel has a schoolteacher seems fitting for her, though it would be cool to see her as a novelist, but as a homemaker as well? It just doesn't sit right with me. As I was scrolling through the internet one night, trying to reconcile with Jo's ending, I had come across an article by USA Today that mentioned Alcott had originally intended for Jo to remain unmarried. It was under the advice of the publisher that she paired Jo off, since a single Jo would not have sold as much as a married Jo. It breaks my heart to see Alcott pressured to change her intentions in order to please readers.
When learning about the change in endings, Jo's relationship made much more sense. Mr. Bhaer was supposed to be Jo's mentor and friend and nothing else. It isn't Alcott's fault for letting me down; it's everyone else's. And while I was able to reconcile my feelings toward Meg's and Amy's marriages, I will probably never agree with Jo's. And that's okay. Because now Louisa May Alcott can rest in Sleepy Hollow knowing that she at least has one reader who took her side.