Hats Off to Festive Seasons in Books
We all remember the opening of Little Women. The draw-you-in first line sets the scene — ‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,’ grumbled Jo, lying on the rug — and the first two chapters describe how the March family spends Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
‘No presents’ is a policy decision made by Marmee the Matriarch, who wants her daughters to sacrifice their Christmas goodies to show acknowledgement of the hard winter everyone is having, and solidarity with the army engaged in the war.
The girls have only a dollar each, with which they plan to treat themselves.
Each is immediately defined by her choice — Jo will buy a book, Beth wants sheet music, Amy is after some drawing pencils, and Meg hankers after so many pretty things that she can’t decide.
It could be a nice idea for a party game — give everyone £5 to spend in a pound shop, and spend the day analysing what their selections reveal about their personalites. Probably best played before the port or Babycham has done too many rounds.
Well, not so bad, you think, a little Christmas cheer for the girls, but it doesn’t work out that way.
Breakfast of champions
They decide to buy presents for their hard-working mother instead of spending the money on themselves. Then, on Christmas morning their mother suggests they donate their breakfast of buckwheat pancakes and cream and bread to a poor family in the neighbourhood.
They are rewarded when another neighbour, the rich, crusty, old Mr Lawrence, hears of their gesture and sends over a magnificent supper for them to enjoy.
The message of sacrifice and compassion and unselfishness is seamlessly threaded through the episode, with not one celebrity-heavy hit single to fuel their charitable impulses.
Pilgrim Father
Re-reading Little Women later on in life, you are perhaps more aware of its didactic purpose.
The little books their mother gives them on Christmas Day are copies of A Pilgrim’s Progress, which are to be their guides through life, and the Christmas letter from their adored, absent army chaplain father encourages them to do their duty, fight their demons and conquer their worst selves. The novel follows their attempts to maintain these values in the face of distraction and temptation.
Jo must be the favourite of every bookish little girl. Her energy jumps off the page. Literary, outspoken, angry, rebellious, passionate, she speaks to us across the barriers of years and countries.
When I first read the book, I identified with her so strongly that the other girls became faded foils for her dynamism — sickly, saintly Beth, moralising Meg, superficial, silly Amy.
But re-reading the Christmas chapters, I realise, with a tremor of horror, that my allegiance has shifted a little.
Artful Amy
She may be vain, trivial and selfish, but there is something about Amy March that is shamefully enjoyable.
She worries about where she is in the pecking order at school, and she hates the mean girls laughing at her clothes. She tries to be elegant and refined.
Amy has an instinct for self-preservation. When the girls decide to buy their mother presents, Amy goes for a small bottle of cologne so there’s enough money over to buy the drawing pencils she covets.
A strong will
Well, why not? But she doesn’t follow through. Inspired by the maxims of A Pilgrim’s Progress, she swaps the small bottle for a handsome flask of cologne and then she is pleased because hers is the best-looking gift.
Later that year, she makes a will and bequeaths to Marmee all her clothes ‘except the blue apron with pockets’. (Reminsicent of Rod Stewart’s Mandolin Wind – ‘don’t have much, but what I have is yours, except of course, my steel guitar’.)
Way to go, Amy. We see where you’re at. Small surprise (spoiler alert) that Amy goes on to bag the Tour of Europe that should have been Jo’s, develops her ability to maintain stylish appearances on a small budget, and ditches the drawing pencils to become a patron of the arts instead. And she marries a wealthy man. Amy deserves her own mini-series.
Hats in the Ring for Mothers in Fiction: Mrs Bennet v Marmee March