Why Did Jo Get Married? Realism and Fairytale in Alcott's Little Women

(Melville and I decided to switch days this week; she'll give us a fabulous post on Wednesday! --Shelley)

There are many things to love about Louisa May Alcott’s children’s novel Little Women: its endearing characters, who naturally make mistakes, indulging their selfishness and certain temptations, but who, more often than not, are remorseful for their wrongdoing, and strive to be better, to be “good”; its joys and gratitude in the simplicities of life, particularly family life, despite the burdens of poverty; constantly turning negative situations/attributes into positive ones: “Wealth is certainly a most desirable thing, but poverty has its sunny side, and one of the sweet uses of adversity, is the genuine satisfaction which comes from hearty work of head or hand; and to the inspiration of necessity, we owe half the wise, beautiful, and useful blessings of the world”; the blessings and payoffs that come as the result of personal determination and concentrated work (especially for the disadvantaged 19th century female); its depiction of respectful, powerful, intelligent, hardworking, and amiable women; and a genuine celebration of all things American, including its faults: “[Amy’s] old petulance now and then showed itself, her strong will still held its own, and her native frankness was unspoiled by foreign polish.”

These aspects of the novel, including many others, reflect the novel’s strength: its sense of realism. We can identify with the characters on many levels: they are flawed individuals who are constantly learning as they mature and gain more experience; they have hopes and dreams that involve careers and romance; they have a deep love and connection with family and friends; most importantly, they must constantly overcome roadblocks and struggles as they proceed through life, which sometimes means making a serious life-change. Such changes and adjustments make these characters complex, and as the world and its inhabitants are complex, the text exudes reality in many forms.

And yet, I am ultimately reminded that this is a children’s novel (especially the first half) because, with all of the realism, the text also greatly succeeds because of the nostalgia Alcott creates. She makes stitching and mending by the fireside, sharing and writing stories, putting on plays, befriending neighbors, housework and domestic life, raising children, teaching, and battling poverty sound pretty enjoyable, despite the difficulties inherent within such activities. It seems as if Alcott celebrates joys and hardships alike, creating a paradoxical fairytale-like aspect to the story while it is at the same time entrenched in realism. I mostly get this sense from the fact that every conflict eventually works itself out **SPOILER ALERT**: Mr. March recovers from pneumonia and makes it home from the war safely; Beth recovers from her scarlet fever, and even when she suffers an early death, she willingly accepts her hard fate with hope and grace; all the girls find happiness in a marriage of their choosing; Meg and Brooke’s early marital woes are pretty normal and are easily overcome (their marriage eventually thrives with the addition of vivacious twins); Laurie and Mr. Laurence’s relationship persists stronger than ever after several instances where Laurie’s “manliness” is threatened; Laurie graduates from college with honors after many distractions jeopardize his earning a diploma at all; Amy’s early selfishness and vanity blossom into social tact and grace (she is the traditional belle of the ball in all aspects); after Laurie’s devastating rejection from Jo, he and Amy are neatly paired together in a most romantic coupling; and the March family ultimately stays together despite three marriages because they all live close to each other, and regularly interact. Most importantly, Jo—the seeming outcast who identifies more as a boy than a girl, who has much trouble holding her tongue and controlling her temper, who basically feels unlucky and out of place—finds a suitable partner in the Professor (quenching her fear of loneliness), and even more, is able to live her dream of helping and schooling young lads. In the end, everything just seems to work itself out; it seems too perfect in spite of all the difficulties the March family faces.

So, how real is Little Women? After Amy and Laurie’s marriage and return from Europe, Bhaer magically appears to save Jo from the horrid loneliness and boredom she envisions for her future: “She opened it with hospitable haste, and started as if another ghost had come to surprise her,—for there stood a stout, bearded gentleman, beaming on her from the darkness like a midnight sun.” The professor is imagined as a “ghost” and a “midnight sun,” two very magical, abstract qualifications. And then Jo, who all her life swore off marriage, and with immense restraint repeatedly rejected her best friend’s marriage proposals, ends up becoming Bhaer’s wife, all the result of her own desires. Is Alcott’s decision to marry Jo off a reflection of reality—a reflection of the compromise many 19th century women made in order live less lonely and financially depraved lives, or maybe a reflection of Jo’s “tender, womanly half of” her nature that has finally blossomed in adulthood—or is Jo’s fate unrealistic and more mythical, compared to her independent actions and tendencies throughout the lengthy text? In other words, is her fate more magical because it’s a happily constructed Victorian ending for a female character who, throughout the whole of the text, would rather not be married? Can Jo—the persona of Alcott and the main protagonist of the story—still be considered the heroine of the text for contradicting herself, and being married in the end?

I find Jo’s situation at the end the most fascinating aspect of the text because it sparks so many questions about the purpose and meaning of the text, and subsequently provides many reasonable possibilities as answers. On one level, one could argue that Jo makes a powerful and artful decision to marry Bhaer: he will help her “bear” two boys in addition to serving as the instructor for her all-boys school, thereby allowing her to fulfill her dream to always live and be surrounded by young lads, whom Jo claims to more closely identify with. By marrying the Professor, then, Jo uses her husband as the means to her true happiness and career goal. And yet, I feel like Jo’s desire to be with Bhaer is more of an emotional one, as Alcott intends: “Was it all self-pity, loneliness, low spirits? Or was it the waking up of a sentiment which had bided its time as patiently as its inspirer? Who shall say.” The narrator purposefully puts doubt into the reader’s mind as to Jo’s desire for Bhaer’s partnership, but it’s clear that her desire is spun from emotion. For example, when the Professor does not show up for three days after spending two straight weeks with Jo, she “become[s] pensive, at first, and then,—alas for romance,—very cross.” Her reaction to Bhaer’s absence seems to be a romantic one, not a deceitfully constructed one. Jo’s emotions strongly reveal themselves again when she tears up after finding out that Bhaer will move across the country, and possibly crush her wish to be with him. Evidence from the text, then, more strongly suggests that Jo really loves Bhaer, and does not want to just use him for her own personal gain (business-wise).

Still, this ending seems too perfect for Jo, as it does for the rest of the family who care about her, making Little Women somewhat mythical. Is Alcott’s perspective just a positive one? Why did Jo have to be married? Her decision and desire to marry leaves me a bit unsettled because it seemingly contradicts her previous depiction as an independent woman dead-set on not being married. Obviously, people can change as they grow older, as Jo very well might have, but from a narrative standpoint, why does Alcott marry Jo off? Is it enough for Alcott that Jo does not give in to Laurie’s advances, and end up as Mrs. Laurence? After all, Bhaer is an unconventional match for a Victorian heroine, regardless of Jo’s unconventionality herself. Was upsetting Victorian’s readers’ desire for Jo and Laurie’s marriage enough to satisfy Alcott’s will to make Jo the independent heroine that she seems to be? I’m not sure, mostly because she seems to satisfy the rest of the story with Amy’s marriage to Laurie (pretty romantic in itself) and Jo’s ultimate marriage to Bhaer. So, I ask you this: why is Jo married off in the end? Is Alcott merely looking out for herself financially, trying to sell a successful novel that pleases the Victorian public’s appetite for a conclusion marked by three happy marriages? Or does she really think all sorts of women, even independent women like Jo, will find true happiness in marriage, if that marriage is decided freely by both man and woman? Or is she merely illustrating—realistically—that people are complicated beings who, through life experience, alter their attitude and beliefs toward certain subjects and ideas? Would Little Women be as successful and celebrated as it is if Jo stayed unmarried and possibly lonely for the rest of her life, even if she was independent? Is Alcott claiming that too much independence breeds loneliness and unhappiness, or maybe that one’s true happiness is through their relationship with others, especially with a spouse and children? What do you think? I would love to know!!


**Please note: our September book of the month is Ivan Doig's The Whistling Season, which we'll be discussing in a couple of weeks. Try and read it if you can! http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/02/books/review/02birkets.html