By heaven. Has it really been since September that I last wrote in this blog? I haven't been idle, if that comforts anyone. It does me a great comfort given that I usually spend quite a bit of time idle.
`There's been October, which really needs no excuse. October is a time for celebration for my people, the Autumnals, and is the one month of the year which I look forward to the most. It's also the one month of the year where the temperature is perfect for going out of doors. The summer is too sticky, spring too wishy washy, and winter too frigid by half. October is, in a word, perfection.
There was a wedding in there somewhere within that month, and a vacation to Colonial Williamsburg.
November was my birthday and the time of NaNoWriMo was upon me in which I get really crabby, exhausted, and want nothing to do with writing after the requisite 50k words have been accomplished.
December came quite hard and fast, as they are wont to do. You never realize how busy a December can be until you're in recovery mode somewhere in the later part of the month. And that's why we find ourselves here and now. While in recovery I finished Little Women.
I don't remember if, and I'm too lazy to go look, I talked last time about the marked difference between the first half of the novel and the last half. Part two took me completely by surprise with the difference in tone. It was as if so much time had elapsed between the two parts that she had no idea where to begin and, when in doubt, moralize.
Ms. Alcott did have quite a bit of moralizing going on in the novel to begin with, however she diffused it by employing her characters rather than herself as the agent of it. If I was a better blogger I would have researched the time in between parts, but alas. What I do suspect is that the two parts were sold separately and she was told what people liked about the first part. Praise before a novel's completion can be a terrible thing.
A few months ago at my writer's group the members had almost universal praise for my chapter, especially how poetic each line was which was so appropriate for the genre and subject matter. It was so well praised that when I sat down to write the next chapter instead of flowing naturally like it usually does I was given to fits and half starts. Why? Because I was focusing on the poetry of the language than the actual story.
Halfway through this second half of the book, somewhere around where Mr. Bhaer is established as a fixture in Jo's life away from home having moved beyond acquaintance, Alcott picks up with the verve, wit, and natural ease of her writing that I quite admire. The little pastiches showing life with Meg's family became a bit heavy handed again, but I do have to admit that the problems they suffered are remarkably still issues in families today.
I was as surprised as anyone to find that my opinion of Amy has actually softened. My recollection of the movie version was that they tried to turn it into a little love triangle with Amy stealing Laurie and Jo being outraged or, at least, a little miffed about the whole thing. Here I was actually overjoyed to find that Amy grew up, that she caused Laurie to grow up, and Jo was completely grown up about the whole thing; that she truly never did harbor any feelings Laurie beyond sisterhood. I do understand that it's difficult to make a wholly interesting movie in the modern age with that as the story, and I wonder how many faithful readers of the book were outraged. Jo didn't miss her chance because she never wanted one. Showing a young woman who is actually mature, wise, and thoughtful would likely be an unbelievable thing in media these days where we embrace figures who live on the edge, are incomplete without a man (any man), and act foolishly at every turn but it all seems to work out in the end anyway.
I was equally interested in Beth's passing. It was such an understated, almost normal sort of thing to happen. I suppose most of that is due to the fact that everyone knew, had time to prepare, and loved her through the whole ordeal. Had it been a sudden death it would have been handled differently, I'm sure. Mourning occurred but it wasn't drawn out. The pain was there but not quite so acutely portrayed. So much of modern movies and books is all about grabbing you by the emotions and tugging as hard as you can. This was something different; a sweet passing, a gentle goodbye, a loving caress of a death. I could moralize here myself and write about how we are so desensitized and so yearn to feel anything that of course we gravitate towards more overtly emotional tales.
The romance of Bhaer and Jo was something that I was naturally predisposed to enjoy. Separation, mounds of letters in a year, sensible yet whole hearted love between them, etc. is something that mirrors my own love story. Ok, my beloved was the sensible one. I was the one who racked up a $450 phone bill while she was at school in Oxford. I've never claimed sensibility when it comes to my bride.
My only complaint about the novel, and it is such a petty thing, was the ending. It ends as it began, of course, being a portrait of a simple, loving family with all their faults, foibles, blessings, and the wisdom of their parents on display. I can't imagine an appropriate ending that would tie everything in a nice bow, and so perhaps I shouldn't complain.
Overall I pretty much loved this novel, and all the more to find that Amy doesn't remain a hideous person. I set out on this journey to see if the novels would change me, and so far they have, this one especially. When I consider their "simple" life I don't do too much romanticizing. Modernity certainly has more avenues to and support for living a crazed hectic life, but somewhere between the pages I made a connection. It's a connection I'm not sure I can vocalize here, but naturally I'll try.
There wasn't more time in a day back then with which we could sit, ruminate, and come to a correct course of action. There are a bajillion more choices of things we can do with our time, but that is what they all are; choices. The life best lived is not in embracing every possibility of what we can do with our time, but choosing well and, as it laughably turns out, choosing fewer. The right things, the beneficial things, the healthy things, the great and honorable things are all still there for us to choose. They have endured. Maybe society is more like my daughter who prefers the mediocre but color episodes of The Andy Griffith Show because, "Old things are not good and these are better because they are new" (yes...she'll be brought to wisdom if I have to drag her kicking and screaming). I've gained an appreciation for the old and timeless because of those two qualities. The old endures because of its virtues and timeless things are...well...timeless. I shy away from every brand new iteration of Apple Products that they just have to have while the old one is just as usable. A disposable, constantly upgradeable society is by its very nature a house of cards. We have virtue and principles when it is convenient and violate them when it is not, and that's not the world I want to live in. Remember...once upon a time a handshake was a legal agreement...and now we prenup our marriages.
Likesay, I'm not sure where I'm headed because of these books, but I'm fairly certain it will be better than the direction I was heading without them.
Pax,
W
