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Questioning the Lessons from Little Women

Louisa May Alcott's Little Women is one of my favorite books. It was one of the first great works of literature I ever picked up, and I have read it over and over again through the years. As much as I love this work, however, I am still skeptical about some of the lessons that I think Alcott wanted the reader to take away. My favorite character in the book was Josephine March. Josephine (Jo) was a tomboy who loved to write. She was almost constantly plotting her next story, and she and her sisters would often act out her sensational dramas for their own personal entertainment. Jo even sold some of her stories to newspapers and periodicals, which really helped her family out during a difficult time (her father was fighting in the Civil War).

When Jo grew up, she moved to a boarding house in New York to work and write. She met Professor Friedrich Bhaer, who was a scholarly older man, and they struck up a friendship. When she sold one of her stories to a paper and excitedly brought it to him, he criticized her writing, basically telling her that her stories were low-brow and that she could write things that were much better. She was crushed, of course, and this was one of the defining moments in her life. Later, she produces a work more to his liking, and they end up married.

I remember being a bit puzzled about this when I first read it, and even sometimes now, if I think about it long enough. Do writers have a responsibility to produce a particular type of literature? Is there something wrong with producing light, easy, and fun stories? I'm bothered by the question because it was evident that Jo loved to write the types of stories she wrote before she was influenced by Professor Bhaer. It was also evident that her family, friends, and some of the public loved to read them. I think there's a time and place for each type of literature, and I think Professor Bhaer was acting like a judgmental ass when he made it seem like there was only one type of literature worth reading or producing.

Sometimes people want mindless fun. Books that have somewhat predictable plots and thrilling and unlikely events are about like movies and TV shows: they provide a temporary, welcome escape. I like to be caught up in a character's perplexing mystery or burgeoning romance. I also like deeper works that prompt questions about the way people live their lives or the right thing to do in a situation. There's a time and a place for both, and I don't see why one is "bad" while the other is "good". So, if I were Jo, I'd like to think that I would have pointed this out, then gone back to Concord and married Lawrence instead (he did end up pretty much supporting Jo and Prof. Bhaer later on anyway--maybe if Prof. Bhaer would have encouraged Jo to write stories that sold better, that wouldn't have been the case).

That is yet another point at which I (as well as other fans of the book) balk: Alcott had Jo choose to marry Prof. Bhaer instead of her best friend, the young and handsome Lawrence. Jo and Laurie had real chemistry, and a lifelong friendship, and yet Jo marries the significantly older Prof. Bhaer. Even the most recent movie adaptation of Little Women knew that would be a tough sell: Christian Bale as Laurie couldn't lose out to someone who looked and acted like the Prof. Bhaer described in the book (think Santa Claus but with reddish brown hair)--it became slightly more believable when they had Prof. Bhaer played by Gabriel Byrne. Hm. Alcott seemed to be saying that you should marry someone who will make you a better person, even if that means passing up someone for whom you have a real passion. I'm not sure how I feel about that point. It seems like you can get that same benefit from a friend, so why settle for only one of those things when you can have both? Jo could have married Laurie and corresponded with Prof. Bhaer. Dilemma solved. It seems that Alcott wasn't the greatest at thinking of alternatives--she didn't make much use of the inclusive sense of 'or'. As a result, she paints Jo into a corner. Jo has to choose between being a "bad" person and giving into all her more basic desires (writing thrilling literature, having a young, handsome, and passionate husband), and being a "good" person (writing great and lofty literature, having an older, uglier but wiser husband, doing good deeds and works to better humankind). So, while this book was certainly one of the most influential in my life, I still find some of the themes problematic.

I'm not a student anymore....

Well folks (or folk--I think only one or two people read this thing), I'm not a student anymore. I decided not to complete my Ph.D. in Philosophy, and now I'm trying to find a job in the Real World. It's tough going, because even though I'm fairly bright, highly motivated, and well-educated, I am unfamiliar with professional job application etiquette. I remain optimistic, despite some early application blunders. I'm being very organized, and have created an Excel Spreadsheet that keeps track of my job applications and their status. Sigh. Anyway, I'm starting a new way of life, and even though I haven't been immediately successful in obtaining gainful employment, I still feel I made the right decision.

Music and Leg-Shaving

I really like it when I hear a song and I know just how one would dance to it. I can picture how one should move in my mind. Only certain songs evoke this response, and I find that interesting. One such song is "Rock Lobster" by the B-52s. Just listen to it, and maybe you'll be able to picture how you should dance. It isn't because they describe how you should dance in the song--the music just makes it seem (to me at least) that there's really only one way you would dance to that song. While playing Guitar Hero III, I find it is the same situation with the song "Mississippi Queen" by Mountain. Weird, huh?

Speaking of weirdness, I noticed two things at the gym: 1) Mr. Sinew does not shave his legs; and 2) Mr. Bulky does shave his legs. Pretty funny. Next on the agenda is to see whether Mr. Bulky shaves his arms. I need to be careful--I think I have somehow captured the attention of Mr. Bulky (I guess I'm not as sneaky with my scrutiny as I need to be). I think I have caught him looking at me a time or two, and...well I won't state my second suspicion, because when it is typed out it just looks crazy. One thing is almost certain--if he is looking at me, it is not with some sort of romantic or sexual interest. I would wager it is either consternation or curiousity ("How can someone be that weak and live?"). What would be really bad is if he has a name for me. "Ah, there is Ms. Short and Squat."

Gym Stories

So I promised more stories about the characters from the gym, which I shall now deliver. Mr. Sinew is not very interesting--he comes in when I am finishing my workout, and thus I cannot really say much about him. Mr. Bulky is almost always around at the time I work out. He is somewhat interesting. Mr. Bulky has the face of a...well, a nerd, really. I sense an element of defiance in him: "Maybe I look like a nerd, but with a build like this, does it really matter?" It is not that I think there is something wrong with being a nerd (that's pretty much what I am, right?), but I wonder if that is what drives Mr. Bulky to spend so much time at the gym. I wonder if he was teased a lot in school, or bullied. Then again, maybe he thought working out would improve his chances with the ladies or the men. I'm pretty sure that he is not doing it primarily for the health benefits. He wants his body to look a certain way, and he has taken great care to get it to its current state. I keep meaning to try and see if he shaves his legs, as bodybuilders often do, but I never remember to look. Plus, I try not to look at him too often--everyone at the gym tries to refrain from looking at everyone else, especially the serious gym rats, and we certainly do not speak to each other. It is an unwritten rule of early morning gym etiquette.

Random Silly Thoughts

1. I've been going to the gym a lot lately, and have become used to seeing the hardcore gym rats. I have named two of the freakishly fit ones. One is heavily muscled in a bulgey, bulky way, and thus is named Mr. Bulky. The other one is heavily muscled in a lean way, and has muscles on top of muscles, almost all of which you can see because he has so little body fat. I call him Mr. Sinew. More on characters from the gym later.

2. If my current life were a movie, I would want my character song to be Santana's "Black Magic Woman." I'm pretty sure that isn't the song a director would pick, though. I'll have to think about what song would actually be played (which song would actually fit my personality, etc.). Feel free to make your own suggestions about which songs you think would fit my personality, or even better, what you would want your character songs to be, and what songs would actually be played.

3. Halloween parties are surprisingly thin on the ground this year. I have only heard rumblings of one in the philosophy department, and the host of that one cannot do it until the weekend after this one (meaning that the party would actually be held in November, *SIGH*). I feel like that is a sign that I'm getting too old for Halloween, and that is sad. Michael and I already have costumes and everything. Bleh.

The Philadelphia Story

Michael started feeling sick around 3:00 P.M. today, and when I got home after six, it was apparent that we would be staying in and resting. He wanted to be upstairs in bed, so we decided to watch a movie so that he could watch at it or sleep, depending on how he felt. We picked The Philadelphia Story. This is the one with Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and James Stewart. It has been one of my favorite movies since I discovered it as a teen, but it is a bit strange that it should be so. I see a lot of myself in Katharine Hepburn's character, Tracy Lord. Those who have actually watched the movie know that is not really a good thing. Tracy Lord is highly judgmental and proud, and so very certain that she is always right. She expects everyone around her to rise to her standards, and those standards seem exacting and perhaps unattainable to many around her. One of the great lines comes from her ex-husband, who tells her "You'll never be a first class human being or a first class woman until you've learned to have some regard for human frailty." It took me a long time to figure out the lesson of the film, because the dialogue is sparkling and entertaining on its own, and the performances are engrossing. I would like to think that I have more tolerance for human frailty now than I did as a teen, but I'm probably still a little too harsh. In any case, it is a wonderful movie, and I think it does a fine job of showing that too much judgment and too little forgiveness makes one into a cold statue, rather than a warm human being.