Our October selection is a duo of 19th century classics: We will be reading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott along with Behind a Mask, or A Woman’s Power by A.M Barnard, also known as…Louisa May Alcott. Come join us as we examine the two sides of this beloved author.
Little Women is generally recognized as one of America’s best-loved novels. It tells the story of the four devoted and loving March sisters growing up in 1860’s New England. The Mask, or A Woman’s Power is a lesser-known novella, the dark tale of Jean Muir, a deceitful governess who manipulates the wealthy family for whom she works. The book is one of several thriller-mysteries penned by Alcott under a pseudonym. “I can’t afford to starve on praise, when sensation stories are written in half the time and keep the family cozy,” she wrote in her journal.
The protagonists and plots couldn’t be more different, yet both novels are considered feminist works, illustrating the tension between cultural expectations for women and their personal and artistic freedom.
Love Little Women? Then this is the time for a re-read! Prefer a femme fatale to a virtuous woman? Then introduce yourself to the sinister Jean Muir. Discussion begins October 1st. Please join us!
I’m about a quarter into Little Women. Upon reflection, I don’t think I ever actually read it before or, if I did, I didn’t understand enough to absorb it.
Our library had several collections of Alcott’s short stories. They also have a short novel titled The Inheritance her first novel written at age 17 and never published.
OK, spurred by this thread, have just reserved the two books and am 1st in the waiting list. I should get them soon but won’t be able to read them until after my big project in the middle of the month.
I also have to read Hamilton (original source, score & listen to the music), which is also in my house from the library and awaiting my spare time. So many books & other media, so little time!
It’s October 1st! Welcome to our discussion of Behind A Mask, or A Woman’s Power and Little Women.
These two books were a pleasure for me to read / re-read – a fun, relaxing way to end a busy summer. There were no official discussion questions for Behind a Mask, but I crafted a few from an excerpt of Literature and Gender that I found on Google Books:
Behind a Mask. or A Woman’s Power definitely made me think of Jo’s “scribbles.” I imagined as I read Little Women that this was the very sort of thing she submitted to Mr. Dashwood.
As for the story itself, I didn’t find Jean Muir all that bad! In that day and age, a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do, am I right? She is no worse than Scarlett O’Hara, and in my estimation, rather better. She admits in the end, without sarcasm, that she is not worthy to be Sir John’s wife and intends to make him happy. And apparently, she succeeds: “She paused an instant, with a pale, absent expression, as if she searched herself, then looked up clearly in the confiding face above her, and promised what she faithfully performed in afteryears” (p. 112).
What a ride that was! I started reading* Little Women* first, a copy lovingly inscribed to me by my Grandmother in 1967 - for my 9th Christmas. I know at the time I loved it, identifying both with Jo and Amy. (Jo for her rebelliousness and tomboy ways, Amy for the painting/artistic endeavors.) I’ve probably reread it a few times, but not in a long, long time. I found the unending preachiness with a moral in almost every single chapter rather hard to take, so turning to *Behind A Mask, or A Woman’s Power * a rather delightful surprise.
That story begins with the trope regarding governesses (“Marry the Nanny” as it’s described in TV Tropes), but we the mask comes down almost immediately after the first scene where each character reacts to her slightly differently - all charmed but one. I thought she was a fascinating charcter - sympathetic even though she is dissembling all along. The worst thing she does is get the suspicious maid fired - one hopes that restitution is made for that deed. The ending completely took me by surprise, but I liked it.
I went back to * Little Women* in a better mood and on to the second half which I’ve always thought was more interesting than the first one. I was curious if I would be less disappointed by Jo settling for Mr. Bhaer, and for the most part I was, though I think his criticism of Jo’s writing was probably warranted, I think he underestimates her need to write, but is correct that she could write better things than what we she was writing while in New York. I do think Alcott was right not to pair her up with Laurie - the easy solution.
I found these two books to be a fascinating juxtaposition.
Little Women was sooooooo sweet that I from time to time wanted to throw up and then brush my teeth. It was a woman’s nature to get married, have babies, and serve them all patiently. Mr. Lawrence (the grandfather) loved the March girls so much he gave them lots of goodies. Marmee had the patience of a saint. Father was injured seriously, but of course he recovered fully. Laurie was a delightful young lad whose interests added significantly to the March girls’ fun. It was a fantasy of perfection.
But there were some unfortunate facts that Alcott skims over – that the Hummel family’s child died from scarlet fever (a fact which was scarcely mourned, although Beth’s decline from the same disease was mourned ad infinitum). Even though the March family was supposedly “poor,” they could still provide charity to the Hummels and still have a servant (who, I finally realized about two thirds of the way through the book, was undoubtedly African American). And of course the servant could take care of the girls when Marmee was nursing Father, pack meals for the Hummels, and just be jolly and helpful. Whenever any convenience threatened to spoil the plot, Hanna was dropped in to p eliminate all discomfort.
Behind a Mask was much more fun and suspenseful. I enjoyed it very much – especially the early scene when we discover that she isn’t 19, she’s 30, and that she isn’t a sweet innocent but a scheming ■■■■■. I found it odd, however, that except for that one scene, her behavior was exemplary – until about 80% through the book, when the narrator’s veiwpoint changed and it started to be from her perspective, and it started to become more suspenseful.
I also find it fascinating that, back in the day, people tried to marry each other after knowing each other for about 20 minutes.
I’ve seen speculation that she was Irish, which for Boston in that era seems much more likely to me. Not sure if the text ever describes her, she’s drawn as an older white woman in my Illustrated Junior Library edition right in the endpapers. (Illustrations by Louis Jambour done in 1947.)
I’m not sure what you can tell from her letter in Chapter 16:
Math,I’m, that was very helpful. It does read like African-American.
I too enjoyed Behind the Mask. I liked that jean picked a familiar role for herself and kept it up. From the time she spotted the patriarch, she formed her plan. I’m so glad I didn’t live in that century
Hannah is not portrayed as African-American in any of the film adaptations and most sources I’ve found online say she’s of Irish descent; however, I’m still looking for a definitive answer. One poster on a LW site noted that the cook in Little Men, Asia, is African-American and identified as such by Alcott, which suggests that if Hannah were black, Alcott would have noted it.
Of course I could be wrong about my assumption that she was African American. But @mathmom’s quote makes it feel that way to me – the “she don’t stop to cal’k’late fust,” especially.
^ It’s true, the letter really does make it feel that way, but maybe Alcott was just trying to convey that Hannah was poorly educated. I wonder what Henry Higgins would make of the dialect.
The pictures show Hannah as white, but I’m not pushing that point in particular – I just thought everybody would enjoy the drawings (by Frank Merrill, 1880). See the List of Illustrations right after the Contents. There are so many!
You’ll find Hannah in “One of them horrid telegraph things” (p. 197) and “Yours Respectful, Hannah Mullet” (p. 214).
(My own well-worn, beloved hardcover is a 1947 edition illustrated by Louis Jambor.)
