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Louisa May Alcott, a transcendentalist feminist of ambivalent sexual orientation and the author of sensational novels, is asked by her publisher to write a book for girls; she's like eh, that sounds super lame, but she does it anyway, "in record time for money," and here we are.
What's startling about Little Women given the intro I just gave it, and the reason it worked then and still works now, is its absolute sincerity. There's not a trace of sarcasm in the entire thing; it remains a sweet-natured book full of nice people doing nice things.
Another way to say all that is, of course, "corny," and it is that too. You know how sometimes you re-read a beloved book as an adult and realize there was much more going on under the surface than you caught when you were younger? Well, this is not one of those books. It's utterly straight-forward.
The life lessons given here are basically still sound. Alcott recommends marrying for love; she's not against a woman being the primary breadwinner. In a very gentle, nonthreatening way, she's true to her feminism, and you'll find nothing truly objectionable for your child. A lot of God stuff, so your mileage may vary on that. These were probably the last women on earth to read shitty old Pilgrim's Progress.
Our lead character, Jo, and our semi-autobiographical one, bums me out a little; if you don't mind spoilers, here's why. Alcott never married. While there apparently was a Laurie for her, of sorts, there was not a Bhaer, and it shows: Bhaer is a totally unreal character. He's the husband equivalent of Steve Carrell describing boobs as sandbags in The 40-Year-Old Virgin.
There was a moment when Jo turned Laurie down and it looked like she was going to become a single author, and I really liked that, even before I learned that that was what Alcott actually did. But Alcott sortof copped out on her own life, I think, marrying Jo off to this neutered Casaubon, and it stuck in my throat a bit.
Little Women has neither subtlety nor malice; it succeeds purely because of Louisa May Alcott's sheer charisma. It was, is and probably always will be a very pleasant book.
What's startling about Little Women given the intro I just gave it, and the reason it worked then and still works now, is its absolute sincerity. There's not a trace of sarcasm in the entire thing; it remains a sweet-natured book full of nice people doing nice things.
Another way to say all that is, of course, "corny," and it is that too. You know how sometimes you re-read a beloved book as an adult and realize there was much more going on under the surface than you caught when you were younger? Well, this is not one of those books. It's utterly straight-forward.
The life lessons given here are basically still sound. Alcott recommends marrying for love; she's not against a woman being the primary breadwinner. In a very gentle, nonthreatening way, she's true to her feminism, and you'll find nothing truly objectionable for your child. A lot of God stuff, so your mileage may vary on that. These were probably the last women on earth to read shitty old Pilgrim's Progress.
Our lead character, Jo, and our semi-autobiographical one, bums me out a little; if you don't mind spoilers, here's why. Alcott never married. While there apparently was a Laurie for her, of sorts, there was not a Bhaer, and it shows: Bhaer is a totally unreal character. He's the husband equivalent of Steve Carrell describing boobs as sandbags in The 40-Year-Old Virgin.
There was a moment when Jo turned Laurie down and it looked like she was going to become a single author, and I really liked that, even before I learned that that was what Alcott actually did. But Alcott sortof copped out on her own life, I think, marrying Jo off to this neutered Casaubon, and it stuck in my throat a bit.
Little Women has neither subtlety nor malice; it succeeds purely because of Louisa May Alcott's sheer charisma. It was, is and probably always will be a very pleasant book.