One of the nifty things about being friend with Lady Pole, among myriads, is her excellent taste in literature, and her openness about discussing books. So a little while ago, we came up with the idea of a book discussion here at the Free For All where we could air our real views about some of those “classic” books that everyone is “supposed to read”…and supposed to value/treasure/enjoy.
The truth of the matter is that even when two people read the same book…no two people read the same book. They bring their lives with them into the text, and that totally influences how they perceive, digest, and remember the book. And this was something Lady Pole and I discovered as we chatted about some of those classics that we had encountered in our lives. So here is a much more mature, adultish version of that discussion for you to enjoy. While we are very pleased with our own opinions, what we really hope you, dear readers, take away from these discussions is the realization that: 1) Reading “classics” can be really fun and meaningful and significant (that’s part of what makes them “classics” after all!), 2) That you are under no obligation whatsoever to enjoy the classics that you read, as you’ll soon see, and 3) That your own story is critically important to how you read any book. So here is our chat–we sincerely hope it encourages you to have a conversation of your own!
Our first book in this series is Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, published in 1868.
First Encounter
Lady Pole: I was a senior in college when I finally read Little Women as part of an American Literature course. Alcott was in good company here; this was the class where I learned to utterly adore Moby Dick, finally read (and enjoyed) Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage, got to revisit Edgar Allan Poe’s Narrative of A. Gordon Pym (in which I had an eerie experience of remembering memories and images I created when I first read the book) and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, among other books that are less memorable. What this brief history of my college experience is meant to elucidate is that Little Women wasn’t surrounded by books I didn’t like or I was somehow predisposed to dislike it because it was assigned reading. But I did dislike it. Perhaps not a burningly intense dislike that other books have instilled in me, scarring me for life (I’m looking at you Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance & Catcher in the Rye), but this was definitely not a favorite from that course.
Arabella: I actually spent a great deal of my childhood in Concord, where Louisa wrote Little Women. It was my grandmother’s favorite book, and when she and my Grandfather found a plot of land right behind Orchard House (where the book was written), she negotiated the price of the land down by telling the seller (who was, incidentally, Margaret Lothrop, whose mother wrote The Five Little Peppers series) how much she wanted to live near Louisa May Alcott. I never got to meet my Grandmother, so when my Grandfather told me about her love of the book, and Concord, I decided to read the book as a way to be closer to her (I have her copy of the book, published in 1947, too!)
First Impressions
Lady Pole: For me, Little Women was sappy and a bit drawn out. Perhaps it was because I was nearing full-adulthood when I read it and didn’t have the fond childhood memories of this book that so many others have experienced. Maybe Alcott’s work is better appreciated by those in a younger mindset, or at least not an academic mindset, but I definitely didn’t appreciate it the way many others do. I didn’t like many of the characters, but the fact that I didn’t identify more with the heroine, Jo I think is what surprised me the most. Jo is a contrarian, determined to follow her own path, which bears a strong resemblance to my personality, particularly when I was in college. I should have loved her. I wanted to love her. I didn’t love her. Maybe I found her to be overshadowed by her fairly annoying sisters or maybe I spent so much of the book waiting for the scenes that I already knew about (more on that in a bit), but I didn’t have the pleasurable experience reading this book that I often get when reading classics, or books with strong women.
Arabella: In the interest of full disclosure, I grew up as an (introverted) only child, who attended Catholic grammar school, which really emphasized being quite and doing what you’re told, which are two things I am not highly skilled at doing. So to have a book that deals heavily in strong, functional sibling relationships fascinated me from the beginning. What I took away from this book, though, that has meant an incredible amount to me growing up, was it was ok to want to be different from those around you (indeed, there could be virtue in it), and that it was ok to be angry. When Marmee tells Jo that she is angry nearly every day of her life, and that Jo could be, too, as long as she learned how to deal with it properly, meant more than I can say growing up. That she said it to Jo, who was the tall, awkward, literary figure in the book, was huge for me, a tall, awkward, bookish kid. The validation that all the girls in this book get for their choices in life really did give me a lot of courage and confidence growing up. I think a lot of this also had to do with knowing how much my grandmother (whose middle name was Josephine) loved this book, and reading it felt like talking to her.
Also, Theodore Lawrence was my first love. And the man against whom I still measure most men in my life. And I am not ashamed to admit that.
Outside Influences:
Lady Pole: I have to say I think outside influences had a fair amount to do with my enjoyment (or lack thereof) with this book. This being a 150-year-old classic (give or take), I knew at least a few things about this book so spoilers abounded. I’m not opposed to spoilers as a general rule, and when it comes to classics, they’re pretty hard to avoid, so this didn’t bother me. However, this was one of the few situations where I think a spoiler altered my potential enjoyment of the book. I knew that Beth the “sickly” sister dies, but I was under the impression that she dies fairly early on, or at least somewhere in the middle of the book. So in addition to the fact that I found her self-righteous prattling incredibly annoying, I spent much of the book asking the pages “WHY HAVEN’T YOU DIED YET SO WE CAN GET ON WITH THE STORY.” I ended up being so preoccupied with preparing myself for the death of this major character I really didn’t like to begin with, that it ended up consuming my consciousness during a large portion of the text. I also had seen parts of the Little Women movie starring Winona Ryder and I wasn’t a fan. I have a feeling that Ryder’s portrayal of Jo may have influenced my dislike of a character I might have otherwise identified with more.
Arabella: I spent a lot of time at Orchard House (where the book was written), because it basically across the street from my Grandfather’s house, and worked there for years as a historic re-enactor (nerd alert….). And I actually portrayed Elizabeth Alcott (on whom Beth was based) for years. So for me, a lot of outside influence was historic research and getting behind the characters to the women on whom they were based. As a result, a lot of the pontificating and moralizing in the book didn’t affect me, because I knew a lot of it was because Alcott was writing in the 1860’s, and you couldn’t write a book for children without morals, so I skipped these parts….although, that being said, Alcott’s very frank discussion on hitting children and being lazy are two things that I still carry with me….
Recent Reflections
Lady Pole: In recent years, I’ve come to admire Alcott’s other work (her little-known Long Fatal Love Chase is well worth a read). With respect to Little Women, while I’m not quite sure I’m up to the challenge of trying to read it with fresh eyes, I have come to greatly appreciate Alcott’s stand on not having Jo end up with the “popular” choice, Laurie, despite reader and editor pressure. Considering Professor Bhaer was actually one of my favorite characters, I liked that Alcott had the two of them marry and highly respect the author’s decision to follow her instincts as a writer. I will say that my impressions of the book will not prevent me from encouraging my future, hypothetical children from reading it if they desire, and I’m very grateful to know someone who has such a different opinion of the book, so I have a resource for them to turn to if they love it and simply want to gush in excitement, rather than examine the pros and cons. While it might not change my view, this type of disagreement allows for a deeper understanding of the text by being able to see it through different eyes, so I’m always appreciative when someone can broaden my perspective.Arabella: Initially, I was devastated that Laurie and Jo didn’t get together, but the older I get, the bigger my crush on Professor Bhaer grows. This was helped a good deal by Gabriel Byrne’s performance in the most recent film, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But his encouragement of Jo and belief in her, without being smother-y or paternalistic about it still feels remarkable to me. Having also worked in a library that held Louisa May Alcott’s fan letters from school children around the country, I’ve also been really fascinated by how much this book has meant to readers for generations. The older I get, too, the more Beth’s death breaks my heart–I don’t think I could grasp the enormity of such a loss when I was young. But Beth’s quote to Jo, in their final chapter together, remains my favorite in the book, because it encapsulates the acceptance and encouragement that I found in Little Women:
“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”
