'Little Men' by Louisa May Alcott

This is my first re-read since my youth. I remembered this book to be full of joy, because it's all about the success of Jo March's fondest ambition. She and her husband, Professor Fritz Bhaer, run a merry school for boys named Plumfield, and this story gives us a glimpse into a specific six month slab of time beneath the roof. 

Louisa May Alcott was previously coerced by her publisher to write a book for girls, and resisted writing the classic which became Little Women. In her heart, she would have preferred to write a book for boys, because she felt more of an affinity with young men. So a few years after the smashing success of Little Women, she set out to please herself rather than anyone else, and I get the feeling this is the self-indulgent (but very cool) result. It's like a cry of triumph and full of the sort of high jinks and horseplay she loved. 

It begins when 12-year-old Nat Blake is welcomed at Plumfield. He's the gentle son of an itinerant street musician who has recently died. Nat is deserted by his father's uncaring music partner who refuses the responsibility of an undernourished, ailing boy. But Nat acquires a golden ticket which always gains boys a place at Plumfield; a recommendation letter and sponsorship from Mr Moneybags, aka Theodore 'Laurie' Laurence. 

Plumfield is a close-knit little school comprised of a bunch of blood relatives (Franz, Emil, Demi, Rob, Teddy) and boys from paying families (Jack, Ned, Tommy, George/Stuffy, Dick, Adolphus and Billy). Later additions include the two untethered orphans (Nat and Dan). There are even a few girls, as Demi's twin Daisy (Meg's kids) hates to be separated from her brother, and they invite a saucy little livewire named Nan to keep her company. Laurie and Amy's fairy-princess daughter Bess often puts in an appearance too.

What I appreciated more than before. 

1) At first I feared this might prove to be too tame for 21st century readers, but a couple of boys save the story from complete cheesiness, including Dan Keane, the restless and wild street kid who pushes boundaries. Imagine placing a cynical rebel like Holden Caulfield slap bang in the middle of a moralistic Enid Blyton story, and that's similar to what we get here. Dan eggs some of the other boys to experiment with sneaky smoking and gambling at night, with dire consequences. The intrigue sure jumps up a notch with the introduction of Dan, whose pent up energy lends the book a lot of movement. 

2) The resident jerk, Jack Ford, adds a strong incentive for reader indignation. Put it this way, he uses circumstantial evidence to his advantage, deeply hurting others in the process. 

3) Daisy Brooke! She's an excellent example for girls who choose to revel in the domestic arts, instead of treating them like drudge work. Even better, I love how she stands by her man. Daisy was the shining light in the otherwise heartbreaking chapter entitled, 'Damon and Pythias.' 

4) Tommy Bangs. I've known several such good-natured, accident prone and fun-loving boys as this young man, and enjoy his type.

5) Nat and Demi. Perhaps these two deep and thoughtful boys are my favourites. I appreciate droll Demi with his studious habits, and earnest Nat with his wistful desire to please. They make me want to move straight on to the final book.

6) Franz and Emil. We never get a great deal of background about this pair of brothers, except that they were the orphan kids of Professor Bhaer's sister, and his reason for coming to live in America in the first place. Their personalities shine through more in Little Men though, and I like what I see.  

What I wasn't a big fan of this time round. (A few of these gripes are more about changing times rather than the quality of Alcott's writing.)

1)  Some of the boys, especially the non-family ones, come across very stereotyped, as one aspect of their character is way overemphasized, making them wooden and predictable. For example, there's Jack the cheapskate and Stuffy the glutton. My word, I swear that boy was written solely to be the butt of fat shaming. He's only ever mentioned in relation to over-indulging in food and suffering the consequences. I kid you not! It frustrates me, as there is always far more depth to any individual than his eating habits, yet Alcott never reveals any. 

2) (I skirt around a few plot spoilers here, so if you want the episodes at Plumfield to unfold as a total surprise, then proceed carefully.)The chapter entitled 'Damon and Pythias' broke my heart for poor Nat. I was disappointed in Fritz and Jo for sharing the boys' judgmental attitude that a guy should remain guilty until he's proven innocent, instead of vice versa. Sure, the poor lad had been caught telling some white lies in the past, but assuming that he'd resort to theft when he declared he didn't is a serious jump to make. Nat is obviously a highly sensitive soul, and this incident may have scarred him for life. 

3) Archaic, intolerant attitudes. In the Thanksgiving chapter, the adults encourage Demi to tell the tale of the Pilgrims to his younger cousin Rob. He reports, 'The Pilgrims killed all the Indians and hung the witches and were very good.' Demi is praised for being a wonderful young historian, but oh my, I won't even begin to delve into how problematic that one sentence is! You can see for yourself.

4) Unquestioned gender inequality. Now I have to say Louisa May Alcott is actually great for her era, as she has Nan decide to pursue a medical career at a time when that was very rare. Yet she doesn't follow through for the other side. The girls were roped into helping prepare the important Thanksgiving dinner while the boys were kept on the outside of forbidden ground, sniffing and peeping. It seems there's no chance a boy would be encouraged in aspirations to be a chef. Or they would soon be snuffed out of him as 'women's work.' Alcott makes it clear that Jo prefers 'manly boys' anyway, which doesn't really sit right with me either.  

On the whole...

Alcott must have done something right because she's left me eager to re-read Jo's Boys as soon as possible, out of curiosity to find out what becomes of these boys ten years down the track, when they've grown up. I'll follow up with that one soon.

And I like this quote from Jo, 'I'm a faded old woman but a very happy one.' (Since she's still got very small boys, I'd judge her to be in her thirties or nudging early forties at the most. Perhaps for her era, that was considered old.)  

Now, check out my review of the fascinating finale, Jo's Boys.