A brilliantly imagined novel,

tells the story of the largely absent father from Little Women.

It spectacularly evokes the civil war period and tackles big issues of morality, principle, love and duty.

The novel takes readers on a journey back in time to a tumultuous era. The absent father's presence is felt throughout the story, as his absence shapes the lives and characters of the family. We see how the sisters navigate the challenges of growing up without a father figure, while also dealing with the larger issues of war and society.

The author's vivid descriptions bring the civil war period to life, allowing us to experience the hardships and sacrifices of that time. We witness the characters' struggles with morality and principle, as they are forced to make difficult choices in the face of war and its consequences. Love and duty also play important roles in the story, as the sisters must balance their personal desires with their responsibilities to their family and country.

Overall, this is a captivating and thought-provoking novel that offers a unique perspective on the civil war period and the human experience.

\\n  Not at all what I expected...\\n

This book was far from what I had anticipated. In fact, I'm extremely relieved to have finished it. Before starting, I briefly glanced at a few other reviews but didn't pay them much attention. I prefer to form my own opinion without being influenced. However, for this book, I truly wish I had read those reviews more carefully. I was not just disappointed; I was downright annoyed and couldn't wait to be done with it.

Maybe it's because I recall reading something in a review about this book earlier. But I feel compelled to state that I detest books that, when discussing racial matters, give the impression that all people of color are sad, pathetic, uncouth, and damnable savage heathens. It's as if they are helpless against their own self-destruction unless saved by the goodness of kind-hearted white Christians.

The premise of this book, which is supposed to be related to Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women" and explore the absent Mr. March, is an interesting one. However, in this book, the exploration goes horribly wrong. We learn that Marmee and Mr. March were Abolitionists who assisted with the Underground Railroad. But the way the author writes about people of color is deeply offensive. Mr. March is described as loving the "fuzzy dark" heads of the Negro, as if they are inferior and in need of his salvation. Marmee, too, seems to be a fine Abolitionist in word but treats blacks differently when they are near her.

I blame the author for this. While there may have been research for historical accuracy regarding the war and other aspects, the disrespectful language used to describe people of color is unacceptable. I have read other books about slavery and the Civil War that told the story without resorting to such derogatory language. This book's language has completely turned me off and made me feel abused and disrespected.

I gave this book 2 stars. One star for potential and another for the author's writing ability. But the rest of the stars are missing due to the "great white hype" feel that I did not like. I do not recommend this book.

\\n  Disclaimer: This is one opinion, mine. Yours may not be the same. I respect that. Respect my right to my own thoughts. Any disrespect or backlash from my opinion will be deleted & reported.
Thank you.\\n

March by Geraldine Brooks won the Pulitzer Prize for multiple reasons.

Primarily, it significantly expands the scope and reach of the beloved classic Little Women. It delves deeper into the life of Mr. March, a character who was somewhat in the background in the original.

Moreover, the book brings an earthy and vivid realism to its Civil War scenes. The immediacy with which these scenes are presented makes them relatable even in today's context.

While many recent books have addressed the brutality of the Civil War using surreal or fantastical methods, March faces it head-on without any gloss. It presents the harsh reality of the conflict in a raw and unfiltered way, allowing readers to truly understand the magnitude of the events and the impact they had on the people involved.

This unflinching portrayal, combined with the expansion of the Little Women universe, makes March a worthy recipient of the Pulitzer Prize.

A small slice of the Civil War, as seen through the eyes of an older, idealistic abolitionist from the North. This was a relatively quick read, yet it was heavy and, in certain parts, quite difficult to get through. It was emotionally draining, leaving one feeling rather depleted.

Now, I'm going to embark on something a bit lighter. The story was filled with vivid descriptions that brought the era to life. The rutilant glow of the battlefield fires seemed to leap off the page, and the coruscating flashes of gunfire added to the intensity.

The use of words like "jalap," a type of purgative root made into tea, added an interesting historical detail. And the description of the piceous earth, related to or resembling pitch, painted a picture of a desolate and war-torn landscape.

Overall, while it was a challenging read, it provided a valuable perspective on a dark and tumultuous time in American history.

Brooks presents idealism in all its manifestations here.

You can observe how it can be both inspiring and exasperating, and even dangerous. The protagonist is an extraordinary idealist who simply doesn't know when to give up and has little sense of detachment and objectivity. His mission to improve things distorts his perception of the world around him, including his wife and her thoughts about him. At times, I found myself disliking him, while at other times, I just tolerated his naivete and stubborn refusal to even attempt to face the limitations of what one person can accomplish.

Also, Brooks establishes a connection between idealism and guilt. The first time I heard this connection pointed out was by Slavoj Zizeck, and immediately I realized that this relationship exists within myself. It is a kind of survivor's guilt without the actual disaster: Why was I fortunate enough to be born healthy and privileged in a wealthy country? It seems unfair when others are oppressed and suffering. So I should strive to save the world. Brooks contends that it's not his (or my) fault. She also reveals to us the things that can undermine idealism: greed, fear, the need for self-preservation, human weaknesses, and of course, plain old reality. Many more pitfalls for idealism are depicted in the book.

Brooks' recreation of the 19th Century is truly a remarkable achievement. Developing a convincingly antiquated feel in the prose for 280 pages is no small feat. It was enjoyable to see Emerson and Thoreau appear as characters. At times, the narrative comes perilously close to melodrama. This put me off a little, but it somehow suits the era she is exploring and the protagonist's character.

I didn't realize this was a prequel to Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, and I'm glad of it. This book can stand on its own completely, but it draws on Alcott's work towards the end.

Full disclosure: I've never read Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. Given that I've never touched the source material, it may seem like an odd choice to read Geraldine Brooks' March, but it turned out to be a welcome and entirely enjoyable read. In fact, of the three books I've read so far for my 2020 Pulitzer challenge, March is far and away the best.

I was given to understand that Mr. March, the titular lead, is almost entirely absent from the proceedings of Little Women aside from the occasional battlefront correspondence. For me, this worked entirely since I was able to understand and appreciate this novel entirely without knowledge of the classic on which it is based. March's character is perfectly suited to carry the novel on his back with his idealistic aspirations and the way in which those ideals clash with the realities of the American Civil War. Indeed, I was at first taken by March's moral high ground and sunny outlook, but the novel's strength lies in the fragmentary erosion of the lead's ability to make any difference in the world he desires.

The book takes its most interesting turn when Mr. March finds his way to a recently liberated plantation that demonstrates how little he understands of the practicalities of the war. The former slaves and their newfound employer were compelling characters in their own right and act as foils to March. Reader be warned: this is also where the novel treads into its most horrific and depraved scenes. Though the novel can be challenging from a content perspective, I was taken by the complexity with which all characters are able to articulate their viewpoints and how they contrast with the perceived through-line of history.

For my personal taste, when the novel changes near the end to Marmee's perspective all momentum is lost. Though March's climax occurs just before that, the denouement of the story dips too heavily into the themes of marriage and truth, veering from the themes that had anchored the book in my mind. My edition of the book comes with an interview from Brooks who claims this change was in part dictated by the structure of Little Women and in part to explore the March's marriage. Though I can see the logistics of it, it fell a little flat for me and kept it from snagging a five-star review.

Despite that, March is a marvellous novel. I'd find myself thinking about a particular scene, character, or Brooks' excellent writing even when I wasn't reading the book. March challenges simple virtue, or at the very least zooms in on a seemingly straightforward moral dilemma to show all its complexities. I'll be thinking about this one for quite some time.

This is the third book of my 2020 Pultizer Challenge!

What I can say for this novel is that Brooks is undoubtedly a remarkable writer.

However, I have a certain aversion to the March patriarch. That's just the way it is.

It took me half of the book to begin piecing everything together. At first, March appears optimistic, intelligent, noble, and human. But around the halfway point, for me, he starts to display idealism, arrogance, self-righteousness, and even stupidity.

How could this be? you might ask. Not Papa March! Listen, his intentions are indeed good. He preaches, he teaches, he loves his wife, and he adores his daughters. He is anti-slavery. On the surface, he seems almost perfect.

But he is oblivious to the attitudes of the time and the sentiments around him. Everything comes as a shock to him! Brooks did an outstanding job of depicting the racism of the south and how it was rationalized as being religiously, morally, or evolutionarily correct. Their unwavering belief that slaves needed to be enslaved for their salvation and survival was truly chilling.

Equally, the realistic practicality and subtle racism of the north were unfathomable to March. This distinction was written extremely well. In fact, it's so well-written that I can't seem to find a specific passage that captures it perfectly.

But that's beside the point! I've already lauded the writing. I'm now trying to assess the character of March. He was blind to a great deal of reality, and when he went off to war, we had to learn along with him, and many of the things he learned were rather obvious.

I'm even more incensed about the things he didn't learn. He never checked his sense of superiority towards those he considered less intelligent or less upright than himself. I don't think he was ever humbled or even aware of his savior complex. He always thought he knew what was best to tell his wife and how she should act.

The fact that the latter third of the book contradicted and undid a lot of the harm caused by March in the first section was highly revealing. I had this nagging feeling that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and Marmie provided such sweet relief! He fetishized Grace, the Virginia housekeeper, he chastised his neighbors for inaction and then excused his own inaction as grace and bravery. He definitely didn't appreciate Marmie enough, and his pride at the end, when he thought he had to go back because he hadn't done enough, saved enough, or taught enough, was infuriating! And his wife's passionate plea for him to forgive himself and come home didn't even move him! It took Grace to finally say, "I don't want you here!" to get him to return to his family, who clearly deserved better.

I think I'm more worked up about this than I initially realized. My early reader updates were all about how wonderful the writing is and how refreshing March is. So noble! Look at him preaching to the Union soldiers and teaching freed slaves to read and write! What a man! So much so that I overlooked his initial comments about regulating his wife's personality. The writing was so good that I initially forgave his tender feelings towards Grace, as he was far from home and lonely. Surely these comments about her hair, her headdress, and his credit-to-her-race sentimentality weren't deal breakers, right? It took me a while to truly see him, but now that I have, I can't unsee.

"Little Women" is about the resilience, strength, and grace of the March women. It's endlessly fascinating that the March patriarch never learns from them.

I think this will stay with me for a long time. I mean, they didn't award it the Pulitzer for nothing! But it will be a while before I can pick up another Brooks book.

There have been an abundance of reviews for this Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, and I truly believe there's not much more I can contribute to the ongoing discussion. However, what I do want to emphasize is that I have an absolute adoration for this book. I firmly believe it is a thoroughly deserving recipient of such a prestigious award, thanks to its remarkable qualities and the literary acumen of its author.

This is my take on March:

The writing style is nothing short of exquisite. The sentences are beautifully constructed, and the expression is lively and engaging. Brooks employs a slightly antique and formal style, which effectively evokes the atmosphere of the 19th century. Her skill is such that the words seem to dance off the page, captivating me from start to finish.

The narrative structure is excellent. March's letters offer a unique perspective into one aspect of his thinking, while his first-person narrative reveals other facets, which are more honest and detailed than what he shares with his family back home. The potentially disruptive switch in perspective from his narrative to that of Marmee, his wife, is handled with great aplomb. It is invaluable to gain her interpretation of events, and the author utilizes the crisis resulting from her misunderstandings to explore the profound nature of the relationship between a husband and wife.

The literary allusion to the junior fiction novel Little Women by Louisa May Alcott is cleverly done. It doesn't overwhelm the reader who is familiar with that charming volume. Instead, Brooks has crafted an insightful work of adult fiction that delves into mature themes such as love, loyalty, fidelity, family, ego, and pride, much to my satisfaction as a reader.

The historical events presented in the book fascinated me. Brooks, being married to a Civil War historian, has masterfully utilized historical records to paint an honest and vivid picture of the inexactitudes, inanities, and inequalities that emerged during such an emotionally charged conflict. Both Union and Confederate troops were involved in atrocities, and their commanders made poor decisions that cost countless lives. Additionally, not all slaves desired freedom if they had a vested interest to safeguard. For me, the most enlightening part of the book was the chapters related to March's time at Oak Landing, the so-called liberated plantation. It serves as a microcosm of all the human frailties, nobility, evil, and senseless violence that occur during war.

In conclusion, I highly recommend this book to anyone who appreciates fine literature, historical fiction, and a deep exploration of the human condition.

Wow, what an amazing book! The souls of all the main characters are exposed and found wanting in the most human of ways.

Mr March, the mainly absent father from the Louisa May Alcott classic Little Women, is center-most in this story. Did you ever wonder what he was up to during that story or indeed wonder how the March family arrived at the point at which that story began? I, the typical child-oriented child, did not. Well, it seems that Mr and Mrs March had their own story.

It was a story of dreamers, idealists, slavery, war, hot-tempers and hot love. This novel is heartbreaking and very, very well written. It delves deep into the lives and emotions of the characters, painting a vivid picture of their struggles and joys. The author's use of language is masterful, bringing the story to life in a way that makes it impossible to put down. Whether you are a fan of Little Women or simply enjoy a well-written historical novel, this book is sure to captivate you.

I do know and very much also realise that technically speaking, Geraldine Brooks' March is not really and actually either a sequel or a prequel to Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. It is rather an adult-oriented historical fiction novel specifically focusing on the US Civil War.

However, because Ms. Brooks has indeed and deliberately used Louisa May Alcott's Little Women characters, and the fictional March family of Little Women as the main protagonists in March, many of us who have read and loved Little Women over the years (often since childhood) will of course try and desire to make the connections. We will expect Geraldine Brooks' March family to correspond to Louisa May Alcott's March family.

And thus, as soon as I started reading March and realised that in particular Mrs. March and Mr. March are very much differently presented (and totally negatively so) by Geraldine Brooks compared to how both Papa March and Marmee are shown by Louisa May Alcott in Little Women, I quickly lost interest and became annoyed. I decided to abandon March and consider it another book I could not finish. I was so annoyed and furiously disappointed that I even toyed with casting it into the garbage.

For me, even though in Little Women Marmee does mention having a temper, the often raging, bitter, and foul-spoken Mrs. March presented by Geraldine Brooks is in no way close to Marmee. I could only despise and feel animosity towards her. Geraldine Brooks' Mr. March is also too negative for my tastes and not really like how Louisa May Alcott presents the father in Little Women. While the depiction of the father in March might be closer to Bronson Alcott in real life, if Geraldine Brooks is using the characters of Little Women, they should mostly be similar to how Louisa May Alcott has shown the March family.

In March, Geraldine Brooks展现出了非凡的想象力，为《小妇人》创作了一个背景故事，将这部备受喜爱的儿童小说转变为一部成人的杰作。

她探讨了19世纪美国人面临的许多关键社会问题，并将它们融入到虚构的马奇家庭的生活中。

《小妇人》中几乎缺席的父亲成为了主角，他直面了当时盛行的道德危机——奴隶制以及废奴主义者的回应。书中引入了真实的历史人物，事实与虚构的相互作用造就了一次难忘的阅读体验。这是一部杰出的历史小说。

I just recently discovered Geraldine Brooks through her novel Horse. Once again, I’m astounded at her ability to turn research into visceral reality and deliver nuances and complexities.

March is the story of the father, Mr. March, in Little Women, which I have not read. I recall my nursery school teacher reading it to our class during naptime (ca. 1955). Every time she began, I either fell asleep or spaced out, so I never heard a word of it. Similarly, over the years, I’ve tried to watch several movies of the book but failed to stay with them. However, I had no problem staying riveted to Brooks’s book.

She makes you live the pain and dichotomies during the Civil War. Nothing is simple. Everything feels true. In her Afterword, Brooks explains her research and more. She says, "It was in researching the role of New England clergy that I became intrigued with the story of the contraband [enslaved people who are “liberated”] and the North’s mixed record of high idealism, negligence, and outright cruelty."

In a further back-of-book section, A Conversation with Geraldine Brooks, she recounts that while living in a small town in Virginia steeped in Civil War artifacts, she found herself pondering "the moral challenges the war presented for [the people], [and] that kindled my interest in imagining an idealist adrift in that war."

When asked to discuss March’s return to his family after the war, Brooks says, "I don’t think he can go back. Nor do I think it is necessarily desirable. Moral certainty can deafen people to any truth other than their own. By the end of the book, March is damaged, but he is still an idealist; it’s just that he sees more clearly the cost of his ideals, and understands that he is not the only who must pay for them."

I’m an idealist and have no idea how I’d deal with being in the fire of war, so this interests me. Once again, Geraldine Brooks’s unflinching fiction has enhanced my understanding of myself and true, complex history where nobody is all good or all bad. It’s a hard place to stay for us humans, but Brooks makes it inevitable.