It just so happened that on an October day, I decided that the pastel-colored cover of my Signet copy of Little Women (and the fact that it’s a classic; do not judge a book by its cover alone!) made it the perfect choice for cozying up in the pleasantly breezy weather. Little did I know, I was in for an empowering tale of feminine strength, self-determination, love, and so much more!

#BookReview: Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

A spoiler-free synopsis:

The March family found themselves newly poor after Mr. March lost his fortune in an unwise loan. While he was away fighting in the Civil War, Mrs. March and her four daughters – Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy – discovered that poverty inadvertently shaped their transition to womanhood in a positive way. From their lonely neighbor boy Laurie and his stern grandfather, to the gentle tutor Mr. Brooke and the dyspeptic Aunt March (and so many, many more characters), the novel captures the four distinct paths the March sisters took to become little women, each fulfilling and respectable in its own way.

Personal Opinion:

Even for such an expansive novel (it has two parts and runs about 200,000 words long!), I personally believe the character arcs – the best feature of this story – are perfectly done. And yes, emphasis on arcs! Though Jo is the central character and arguably has the most complex one, I can’t help feeling satisfied with how Meg’s, Beth’s, and Amy’s arcs turned out. The characters more than made up for the plot because, well, not much really happens. It’s a domestic novel, if you will, where bonds and familial love truly shine through and warm the heart.

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room – the over-preachiness. There’s no subtlety here: brace yourself for one or two paragraphs in nearly every chapter devoted to moral lessons and traditional 19th-century values, often in the form of Mrs. March imparting wisdom while her daughters cry, embrace, and kiss her. That said, we have to cut Alcott some slack: Little Women is, after all, a children’s book written with the explicit aim of teaching morals and proper conduct. It was meant to provide moral and religious instruction to young women of the time, and by reading it today, we gain insight into the social and cultural norms expected of women in that era. In fact, the ending – and Jo’s fate in particular – was significantly altered to meet popular demand and 19th-century expectations. Still, I believe Alcott slyly includes details that defy convention, embodying her own spirited independence. (On that note, the author’s life, Jo’s clear inspiration, is worth reading about for anyone interested in female self-determination.)

As for the moralizing, it isn’t vain or empty preaching for the most part, since it genuinely worked on me, I promise! There were numerous occasions when a character was wronged, and I felt ashamed for, in my own mind, plotting revenge rather than responding as generously as the character ultimately did. As impressionable as I may sound, Alcott is superb at delivering these seemingly preachy lessons – this you’ll only understand once you read the book yourself. The four March sisters truly work wonders for one’s character; perhaps reading about Jo will help you manage your temper, as Meg does with vanity, Beth with generosity, and Amy with selfishness.

To sum up, Little Women is a relatively long and moralistic novel, but ultimately a heartwarming one. I’d bet that many readers can’t help but envy the sisterly love permeating its pages, and may even feel compelled to show the book to their own siblings, just as I did with mine!