Recently, I revisited one of my favorite stories because I wanted to read the book again before finally watching the movie. I remember listening to this story through Focus on the Family’s Radio theater version, and I was even in a short play of it. It’s the story of four sisters, each trying to be good and love each other through life’s highs and lows. I think any girl who grew up familiar with the story found a piece of themselves in one or two of the main girls of, you guessed it, Little Women.
Why has this story cherished by so many for so long? Why are we still making and watching movie adaptations of it? I think the answer to that question lies in the timelessness of its themes and the relatability of its characters. Not one of the sisters is perfect; Louisa May Alcott, the original writer of the book, made sure to include faults in each of the sisters, and even in the supporting characters, and how those faults significantly affects their relationships. Alcott doesn’t hold back in her critique of her characters, making sure the reader hears a moral lesson. In doing so, I think that readers experience a freedom to make mistakes, as long as we grow from them. The sisters are simply real, and their pursuit of virtue and morality is as flawed and holds as many self-imposed trials as Christian’s in Pilgrim’s Progress, the book that they often reference. Because of this, we as readers cheer for them when they succeed, when they are a little bit better than they were before, because we want to be better. The faults of the characters are endearing because we want to believe we can be loved despite our own faults. That is enticing enough in and of itself.
Perhaps another reason why this book has held up all this time is the picture of familial life it gives. Maybe it is a bit idyllic and unrealistic, but the scenes of a home full of laughter that welcomes all who wish to enter is appealing. The March home is chaotic and messy, and they can’t afford much, but it is a happy home. Marmee makes sure to instill the value of open hands in each of her girls, and they give what they have willingly. In fact, the book starts with the girls giving their breakfast to a family that had nothing. One of my favorite scenes is when Laurie, the next-door neighbor boy who is starved for companionship and feminine care, finds himself suddenly a part of the family. His quiet, solitary life is suddenly full of love, laughter, and creativity. The March family is not without their squabbles and challenges, but they put in the work to forgive, love, and help each other. This picture is compelling to any reader because we are made to be in families, and we are made to welcome others into the family. Those who had good family experiences growing up find themselves nostalgic for the fond memories that shaped their childhood. Those who cannot relate to the good family memories can take comfort and hope from what could family life could be because the neighborliness that permeates the book proves that one does not have to be related to find comforts of family and home.
Many have said this book is ahead of its time, which is the last reason that it is so beloved. I think that is true, and the movie certainly drew its dramatic interpretation from a feminist agenda. Alcott herself identified most with Jo and remained unmarried throughout her life. Like Jo, Alcott wrote “sensation stories” and attributed her ambition to “boyishness.” While many fans of Jo might love her speech towards the end of the movie about how girls can be fit for more than love because they too have souls and minds, I was more drawn to Meg’s line right before she gets married. She says to Jo, who is reluctant to let her sister go, “Just because my dreams are not the same as yours doesn’t mean they’re unimportant.” I think most women wanted Jo’s message to be the main message of this movie: women don’t have to get married in the end to be significant, and ambition isn’t only for the boys. Those are true and important messages, but I also think Meg’s line is just as important. Jo’s ambition is her charm and her fault, and it is a turning point in her character development to see domestic bliss as a worthy ambition.
I will always love Jo and be inspired by her unfettered passion. I will always laugh at Amy, knowing I’m more like her than I would like to admit. Beth is too unrelatable for me to enjoy as a character, but I recognize that her sweet goodness and its absence are vital to the motivations of all of the family. I didn’t like Meg all that much until I heard that line, but I think I needed to hear it just as much as Jo. Meg has just as much soul and mind as Jo, and her desire to create a lovely little home out of her corner of the earth is as important as Jo’s determination to publish something worthy of reading. Both women learn to love better for the striving, and I that’s why I love about Little Women, and why I think it will continue to speak to girls, boys, women, and men for a long time.
P. S. If you didn’t recognize the reference in the title, maybe this will help you out: “these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will be loving children to you, do their duty faithfully, fight their enemies bravely and conquer themselves so beautifully, that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.”
Hopeful Wanderer 