There are times, when you
pick up a new book, that it’s helpful to have something of an idea of literary
history in general, in the scheme of actually knowing roughly what has appeared
in the centuries prior to this book being written. Most of the time this comes
in the form of simply being able to spot if a writer (or a film even) uses
ideas from, or makes allusions to, older more established works. In the case of
the modest and dreary old novel Little
Women, it should be noted that at least this piece wears its colours in
full view. The Pilgrim’s Progress by
the 17th century English preacher John Bunyan, one of the most
widely read books in history (apparently, though I don’t think I’ve ever met
anyone who’s actually bothered themselves with it), serves as the inspiration,
McGuffin, and framework for this supposed classic. From what I
understand the story of Bunyan’s work, though his prose is heavy in the way
that early-modern English can be, is simple enough to follow; a protagonist
called Christian wanders around a land of thinly-disguised metaphor, overcoming
the vices of the world by being pious, and eventually receives his divine reward.
Such metaphorical ideas include the Slough of Despond, Vanity Fair, the Palace
Beautiful, and the demon Apollyon, and each have their echo in everything that
appears in Little Women, which the
writer is loath to let us forget.
It is
the American Civil War, and the March family is distraught that their father
has gone off to serve the winning side as a chaplain, leaving them to face
their lower middle-class existence alone. There are four teenage sisters: Meg,
the pretty one; Jo, the tom-boy; Beth, the shy one; and Amy, the youngster. The
mother seems to think that their father’s absence, as well as their shortness
of money, presents an opportunity to get these girls straightened out, and so
she tells them to follow the example of The
Pilgrim’s Progress in combating their childish vices and thereby become, as
their father thinks of them, little women. In the course of the following year
they get to befriend Laurie, the lad next door with a kindly and wealthy
grandfather, and he is gradually drawn into their lives and problems,
occasionally bringing in his own.
I
cannot admit to liking this book very much. Although rather inoffensive, it
feels dull and paper-thin, the writing simple yet not interesting. One never gets lost while
reading this book, though at the same time there is not much to keep the reader
interested. I suppose it’s a book mostly about character dynamics, with the
interactions between the March sisters and the other peoples in their world
taking up most of the story, but there’s nothing really that extraordinary
about its telling. L. M. Alcott just has no real character as a writer, and
besides telling a story she has nothing more to add than a vaguely patronising
tone and an out-and-out morality tale. Speaking of this patronising quality, the
narrating voice behind the story tends to get above its station, often cutting
uninvited into the narrative and offering their opinion on how things are
going, and whether such-and-such was right in how they acted. Even more
irritating though, the narrator sometimes bursts right in and calls a halt to
the story just to explain something; while this does not happen very often, it
is an unpleasant and jarring experience for a reader used to a little more tact
or skill in their novels. The most notable examples of this occur in the first
chapter, which after introducing a rather confused mess of characters goes on
to say: ‘ As young readers like to know “how people look”, we will take this
moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting away
in the twilight... ’ [Little
Women, Scholastic, pg. 12], before promptly giving us such descriptions. If
this were not bad enough, Alcott later on takes advantage of the reader’s
abilities of imagination by making them do all the work, when upon the March
sisters’ emotional reunion with their mother after a brief parting, we are
greeted with the words:
‘ I
don’t think I have any words in which to tell the meeting of mother and
daughters; such hours are beautiful to live, but very hard to describe, so I
will leave it to the imagination of my readers, merely saying that the house
was full of genuine happiness... ’
[pg. 229]
No
writer worth their salt will lay on us such a tender little fart of
disappointment as this, lazily backing out of telling part of their own story
with the excuse that it is ‘too difficult’ to do so. The book, already
tottering as it is, suffers a major demotion thanks to this bare-faced
uselessness. Maybe such a scene was not important enough to the overall story
to be included, but if so then why did Alcott actually bother to write the
whole book? There is no real overarching story here, just the otherwise
incidental little character interactions that fill up all two hundred and
seventy pages; and if the wondrous reunion of mother and daughters isn’t
significant character interaction, then what is? The final straw is right at
the end, after giving us an anticlimax as irrelevant to the story as it is to
the reader’s interest, we have dumped on us this final paragraph:
‘ So
grouped, the curtain falls upon Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Whether it ever rises
again, depends upon the reception given to the first act of the domestic drama
called LITTLE WOMEN ’
[pg.
271]
‘If this one sells well, I’ll write the sequels’ says
Alcott. I dislike the “To Be Continued...” mentality enough; that of refusing
to actually complete the story begun here with the vague hint that you’ll have
to wait for the next one to find out how it goes, as it seems nothing but cheap
and commercial, a wicked attempt to emotionally blackmail the audience into
coming back, but to stick such a final paragraph in a book as this is just
ridiculous.
I
will however add a bone of concession to what has been a fairly negative review
so far. There is a vaguely interesting character arc running throughout the novel;
that of Jo the tom-boy, by far the most interesting person in the story, and
her burgeoning friendship with Laurie the-boy-next-door. Most of the more
interesting stuff happens when both of them are present, and Jo’s temperament
makes her stand out from her rather interchangeable sisters even when Laurie is
absent. I could not work out whether Laurie was going to end up as love
interest for her or not, as their relationship, though very close, remains
cordial for entire duration. If anything were to tempt me to pick up the second
act of the domestic drama called: LITTLE WOMEN, it would be to see how this
item progresses. Do they remain friends for life, or will they eventually fall
in love and marry? Either way it seems a little less clichéd than I would expect.
All
in all though, Little Women is not a
good book. While not impenetrable to an average reader, the writing style is
dull and the story unchallenging. I liked some of the characters, and though the morals were not unpalatable, it ultimately failed to win me over
thanks to the ineptitude of its presentation. As such, I will not be returning
for the blatantly advertised second act of this domestic drama, and can only say that there’s not much to be gained from sitting through the first.
Bibliophine
Alcott, L. M. Little
Women. Scholastic Publications: Reading. (1989 [First Published 1868])
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