Quills and Cliffhangers podcast
is now available on
iTunes
and Stitcher.
Jo's Boys: The Price of Fame
We have a rarely seen classic novel in stock, Jo’s Boys, by Louisa
May Alcott. The author is famous for the
first two books in the series, Little Women and Little Men; this story, set ten
years after Little Men, completes the adventures of her characters.
This 1886 novel has been well-loved for generations, especially by
families who have raised sons. I was
delighted when I arrived at Chapter 3, for Miss Alcott gave her readers an
extraordinary behind-the-scenes look at the price of fame and fortune. Like her heroine, Josephine, known as Jo,
Miss Alcott endured years of financial hardship before achieving great success
as an author. However, she likely did
not expect the overwhelming outpouring of love from her fans and the relentless
trampling of her privacy. The following
book excerpt reminds me of Greta Garbo’s forlorn statement: “I never said, ‘I
want to be alone.’ I only said, ‘I want to be let alone.’ There is all the difference.”
Here is the beginning of chapter 3 of Jo’s Boys, by Louisa May Alcott:
Jo’s Boys
By Louisa May Alcott
The March family had enjoyed a great many surprises in the course
of their varied career, but the greatest of all was when the Ugly Duckling
turned out to be, not a swan, but a golden goose, whose literary eggs found
such an unexpected market that in ten years Jo's wildest and most cherished
dream actually came true. How or why it happened she never clearly understood,
but all of a sudden she found herself famous in a small way, and, better still,
with a snug little fortune in her pocket to clear away the obstacles of the
present and assure the future of her boys.
It began during a bad year when everything went wrong at
Plumfield; times were hard, the school dwindled, Jo overworked herself and had
a long illness; Laurie and Amy were abroad, and the Bhaers too proud to ask
help even of those as near and dear as this generous pair. Confined to her
room, Jo got desperate over the state of affairs, till she fell back upon the
long-disused pen as the only thing she could do to help fill up the gaps in the
income. A book for girls being wanted by a certain publisher, she hastily
scribbled a little story describing a few scenes and adventures in the lives of
herself and sisters, though boys were more in her line, and with very slight
hopes of success sent it out to seek its fortune.
Things always went by contraries with Jo. Her first book, laboured
over for years, and launched full of the high hopes and ambitious dreams of
youth, foundered on its voyage, though the wreck continued to float long
afterward, to the profit of the publisher at least. The hastily written story,
sent away with no thought beyond the few dollars it might bring, sailed with a
fair wind and a wise pilot at the helm into public favour, and came home heavily
laden with an unexpected cargo of gold and glory.
A more astonished woman probably never existed than Josephine
Bhaer when her little ship came into port with flags flying, cannon that had
been silent before now booming gaily, and, better than all, many kind faces
rejoicing with her, many friendly hands grasping hers with cordial
congratulations. After that it was plain sailing, and she merely had to load
her ships and send them off on prosperous trips, to bring home stores of
comfort for all she loved and laboured for.
The fame she never did quite accept; for it takes very little fire
to make a great deal of smoke nowadays, and notoriety is not real glory. The
fortune she could not doubt, and gratefully received; though it was not half so
large a one as a generous world reported it to be. The tide having turned
continued to rise, and floated the family comfortably into a snug harbour where
the older members could rest secure from storms, and whence the younger ones
could launch their boats for the voyage of life.
* * *
After the first surprise, incredulity, and joy, which came to Jo,
with the ingratitude of human nature, she soon tired of renown, and began to
resent her loss of liberty. For suddenly the admiring public took possession of
her and all her affairs, past, present, and to come. Strangers demanded to look
at her, question, advise, warn, congratulate, and drive her out of her wits by
well-meant but very wearisome attentions. If she declined to open her heart to
them, they reproached her; if she refused to endow her pet charities, relieve
private wants, or sympathize with every ill and trial known to humanity, she
was called hard-hearted, selfish, and haughty; if she found it impossible to
answer the piles of letters sent her, she was neglectful of her duty to the
admiring public; and if she preferred the privacy of home to the pedestal upon
which she was requested to pose, 'the airs of literary people' were freely
criticized.
…A time came when her patience gave out; and wearying of being a
lion, she became a bear in nature as in name, and returning to her den, growled
awfully when ordered out. Her family enjoyed the fun, and had small sympathy
with her trials, but Jo came to consider it the worse scrape of her life; for
liberty had always been her dearest possession, and it seemed to be fast going
from her. Living in a lantern soon loses its charm, and she was too old, too
tired, and too busy to like it. She felt that she had done all that could
reasonably be required of her when autographs, photographs, and
autobiographical sketches had been sown broadcast over the land; when artists
had taken her home in all its aspects, and reporters had taken her in the grim
one she always assumed on these trying occasions; when a series of enthusiastic
boarding-schools had ravaged her grounds for trophies, and a steady stream of
amiable pilgrims had worn her doorsteps with their respectful feet; when
servants left after a week's trial of the bell that rang all day; when her
husband was forced to guard her at meals, and the boys to cover her retreat out
of back windows on certain occasions when enterprising guests walked in
unannounced at unfortunate moments.
A sketch of one day may perhaps explain the state of things, offer
some excuse for the unhappy woman, and give a hint to the autograph-fiend now
rampant in the land; for it is a true tale.
No comments:
Post a Comment