Louisa May Alcott is known universally. Yet during Louisa's youth, the famous Alcott was her father, Bronson―an eminent teacher and a friend of Emerson and Thoreau. He desired perfection, for the world and from his family. Louisa challenged him with her mercurial moods and yearnings for money and fame. The other prize she deeply coveted―her father's understanding―seemed hardest to win. This story of Bronson and Louisa's tense yet loving relationship adds dimensions to Louisa's life, her work, and the relationships of fathers and daughters. 26 illustrations
John Matteson is a professor of English at John Jay College in New York City, where he lives. His book, Eden's Outcasts is the winner of the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for Biography. "
Two years ago, my husband took me on a road trip to visit his friends is Massachusetts. We were driving to one of their houses when a road sign caught my eyes: it just said “Orchard House” with an arrow pointing at the next turn. I couldn’t help myself and screamed, freaking the shit out of Jason – who already hates driving in Massachusetts (sorry, babe!). Obviously, there was no coming back to Montreal before making a detour to see Orchard House. You see, “Little Women” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) has a special place in my heart: it was a book that had a big influence on me growing up, and I still cherish the story and characters – and I couldn’t believe that our friend Dennis lived a 10 minutes drive away from where the book had been written and no one had ever told me?! (The following year, I realized how close we also were to Lowell, so obviously, a pilgrimage to Kerouac’s grave became a mandatory detour for the next trip; I am a literary tourist!) We went to the House, took a lovely guided tour, spent some time in the garden, and since the museum’s giftshop is mostly books, I picked up a bunch, including this one.
I knew Louisa put a lot of autobiographical elements in “Little Women”, but I also remembered Mr. March being a mostly absent father: he’s off to war for the first half of the book, but even after he comes back, he doesn’t do much. And yet, Amos Bronson Alcott had had quite a life: friends with all the literary and artistic luminaries of his time, devoted activist (both for human and animal rights), education reformer, eccentric utopian philosopher… But as I learned from the friendly tour guide at Orchard House, that made him a rather difficult person to live with and maintain, at times… I wanted to read “Eden’s Outcast” because I was immediately intrigued by the idea of the complicated relationship this man must have had with his daughter, who had apparently, soberly decided to keep his unconventionalities off the page. I also wanted to learn more about Louisa herself, who was not exactly conventional herself!
This dual biography was meticulously researched: Matterson read all the existing collected correspondence the Alcotts left behind to that he could put together a coherent and flowing portrait of two very unique, strong and incredibly smart people, who shared an often thorny bond. Both Bronson and Louisa were extremely intelligent, and both were also idealists, who’s standards the less than perfect world they lived in usually failed to live up to. Disenchanted idealist very often get angry and frustrated. And as this quote attests, relationships between fathers and daughters have always been very similar: “(…) both earnestly willing the best, both wanting to communicate all that they had to tell each other, but each failing to receive the messages that the other was sending them.”
I must say this book did not make me a big fan of Bronson. To be fair, I have my own biases regarding unreliable parenting and people who give their children no choice but to be the responsible adult of their household, so I wasn’t predisposed to warm up to him. He certainly had fascinating ideas, and his idealism is to be admired, but his lack of practical sense and incapacity to gage the scope of his many enterprises realistically made me roll my eyes a lot. I completely understood Louisa’s frustrations, and the resentment she felt about her mother having to bear the lion’ share of their family’s burden. But Matteson is also careful to point out that while Bronson was not a great provider, he nevertheless raised his daughters to be much stronger, smarter and more interesting people than if he had been nothing but a simple means by which his family enjoyed wealth. I also found myself relating to Louisa more than ever reading quotes from her diaries such as this one: “I am old for my age and don’t care much for girls’ things. People think I’m wild and queer.” Some of the women I admire the most (namely Patti Smith and Simone de Beauvoir) also loved and related to Jo/Louisa, and lines like this make it easy to see why.
Reading this book and understanding more about Bronson and about his relationship with Louisa certainly made me think of “Little Women” a bit differently. My childhood treasure lost none of its charm and appeal, but I have come to understand Jo’s character even better – and I now see an interestingly Freudian aspect to her relationship with Professor Bhaer. This book also made me very eager to dive into Louisa’s other novels, “An Old-Fashioned Girl” and “Work” (which I also acquired during my visit of Orchard House). A very interesting book, about two extremely interesting people.
I borrowed a copy of this book from my library but am definitely going to purchase a copy for my own shelves. (It is worth owning just for the closing paragraph of the book—one of the best endings to a biography I have ever read!)
This is a masterpiece of research into two very fascinating lives. John Matteson clearly read every word written by Bronson and Louisa—every book, story, letter and journal entry—as well as journal entries and letters written by those close to them. His book is readable and thoughtful. He portrays both Alcotts with honesty, fairness and compassion.
It’s sometimes difficult to love Bronson Alcott, but just as often it’s impossible not to love him. Although Louisa was much closer to her wonderful mother, her father’s influence is felt on almost every page of this dual biography. So are the influences of the literary greats who were a part of the Alcott’s close circle—Thoreau, Emerson, Hawthorne—as well as education pioneers like the Peabody sisters.
Louisa’s own life was almost always limited by the needs of her family and sometimes by the constraints of the times, despite her independent feminism. Often her creativity was constrained by the demands of fans and publishers (who wouldn’t even allow Jo March to stay single).
The story of these two lives is sad, inspiring, and captivating. I loved this book and highly recommend it.
Wow, author John Matteson has certainly done a simply and utterly huge amount of meticulous and all encompassing academic research for his 2008 biography Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father. And indeed for this alone, I can and do at least partially understand why he, why Matteson was awarded the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for Biography and Autobiography for Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father.
Furthermore, I most definitely and very much appreciate being clearly and expansively shown Bronson Alcott’s ideals and his general philosophies in Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father, as this lets me become familiar with them without having to plow through Alcott’s copious amounts of writing on my own, by myself. And albeit that there is not anything regarding Louisa May Alcott’s life as it is presented by John Matteson in Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father that I did not already know, it certainly is interesting and enlightening having Bronson Alcott and his daughter Louisa May Alcott juxtaposed and to see how their lives were intertwined, how both of them were often each other’s biggest allies as well as sometimes very bitter and horrible rivals and enemies.
But to be honest, I do have to very strongly and vehemently admit that while Bronson Alcott’s thoughts and attitudes regarding teaching, slavery, abolition and gender equality were in theory not only rather advanced for his own time, for 19th century American transcendentalism, but in fact to a certain extent also even quite avant guarde for today, for the 21st century, I have read more than enough scholarly books and articles about Bronson Alcott’s utter failure as a husband and as a father for me to absolutely and totally despise him as a human being and to consider him pretty much a lost cause with regard to basic humanity and living a worthwhile and honourable life (Bronson Alcott’s naïveté, his selfish narcissism, how he constantly blamed his family and everyone but himself for his failures to provide, for his Temple School and the Fruitlands experiment not working out, that Alcott allowed Charles Lane to constantly bully his wife and daughters and was even seriously considering abandoning them to join Lane living with the Quakers, and for me really disgustingly, that Bronson Alcott was also more than willing to let his daughter Louisa support him and the family through her writing, through novels like Little Women, while at the same time letting his daughter repeatedly know that he in fact did not respect her, that Louisa’s writing and Louisa herself were considered by her father as intellectually lacking, as too emotional, with her often even being described by Bronson as profoundly negative and vile of temperament).
Thus and in my humble opinion, anyone (both academic and non academic) who tries to make excuses for Bronson Alcott or to claim that his positive ideals about education and the like somehow should outweigh and render Alcott’s narcissism, his self centredness, his sociopathy (and his failures towards especially his family) less problematic, perhaps even acceptable (and forgivable) is pretty much an object of intense frustration, anger and annoyance for me. So yes, I just cannot and will not accept as generally praiseworthy and acceptable any biographies and textual analyses regarding Bronson Alcott which do not cast total blame at his personality and at his intense arrogance. And therefore, because the author, because John Matteson to and for me makes far far too many excuses for Bronson Alcott in Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father and even seems to almost rather hero worship him at times, sorry, but for me everything that is interesting and well-researched in and with Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father, as well as Bronson Alcott’s admittedly lofty and positive ideals, this just does not allow me, as absolutely not at all a fan of Bronson Alcott the husband and father to consider more than two stars maximum for Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father.
It's rather hard to condense my views of this book into a few sentences. I had never known much about Louisa May Alcott's life--only that which I'd gleaned from Little Women, which is partly autobiographical, as well as my reading earlier this year of The Concord Quartet (about Bronson Alcott, Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne.)
She deserves whatever attention we can give her as an author and as a woman. Far from the domestic-minded heroines of her most famous novel, she was independent, determined, courageous--and purposefully single. Hers is the destiny that Jo March should have had--and Alcott would have written for her--had not the young female readers of the time demanded that Jo marry. Alcott didn't have the heart to refuse; however, in a clever bit of cunning, she substituted the fatherly and philosophical Professor Bhaer for the passionate and handsome Laurie. Take that, little girls: good sex just isn't as important as a stimulating conversation. ; )
To fully understand Alcott and her determination/independence is to understand her father. Bronson Alcott lived a life of the mind, but with empty pockets. So his family suffered accordingly through all of his idealistic ventures, from the Temple School to Fruitlands and beyond. But it was this very idealism that remained a sustaining force in Louisa May's life, however much she may have grumbled against it in her youth. Her belly may have been empty, and her clothes patched, but the intellectual resources she had at her doorstep enriched her life beyond measure. Emerson prescribed her reading list and gave her full access to his library; Thoreau took her on nature walks; Hawthorne lived next door; and Margaret Fuller, Elizabeth Peabody and other literary luminaries often visited her home.
There are many more subtle and interesting points about this father/daughter relationship that are worth exploring in this book--it's an excellent companion to Little Women, as it gives you a full context for the origin of the book in her life and how it changed both she and her family. Recommended.
Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father is the Pulitzer prizewinning, engrossing and meticulously researched biography of Amos Bronson Alcott, an educator, philosopher and part of the transcendental movement in the early nineteenth century along with Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Margaret Fuller. It is also the biography of his famous daughter and author Louisa May Alcott. This was an interesting and fascinating look at the Alcott family and their relationships but focused primarily on the sometimes complicated but loving relationship between father and daughter Louisa, ultimately brought together by their writings and a sense of justice. Not knowing anything about Bronson Alcott, I found his opening of different schools and his philosophy regarding education and child-rearing fascinating, particularly his founding of what he hoped to be a utopian society at Fruitlands as well as his interest in the Shaker community.
The final paragraph by author and professor John Matteson sums up the essence of his biography as follows:
"To the extent the written page permits knowledge of a different time and departed souls, this book has tried to reveal them. . . . Biographers can sift the sands as they think wisest. But the bonds that two persons share consist also of encouraging words, a reassuring hand on a tired shoulder, fleeting smiles, and soon-forgotten quarrels. These contacts, so indispensable to existence, leave no durable trace. . . . Bronson and Louisa still exist for us. Yet this existence, on whatever terms we may experience it, is no more than a shadow when measured against the way they existed for each other."
Thank you to John Matteson for reading every scrap the Alcotts left behind and digesting it into this wonderful dual biography.
I was a young reader of Little Women (maybe 10 times) and the rest of the series. Later as an adult, I never quite put together the pieces the family. Now I know how the Alcotts fit in with Emerson and Thoreau, the role of Fruitlands in the life of the Alcotts and how it was the Amy came to marry Laurie.
The above paragraph could sound flip without the understanding of how Louisa's fiction was a byproduct of both her father's idealism and his inability to support his family. Louisa would be his standard bearer, but she would at all costs, support the family.
Bronson's philosophy of education was ahead of his time. While it can be debated whether his career ending publications served the cause, it is clear, it did not serve the family well. Followed by a second public humiliation in the touted but failed Fruitlands experiment, you can imagine the grief of a former idealist with a young family to feed.
How many father's careers have been rescued by their children... and in the 19th century... any by their daughters? In the case of the Alcotts, it is more than a career redeemed, it is also values and virtues.
Matteson gives a wonderfully readable dual biography. He sticks with his thesis. It's good that he resisted the temptation to delve into the other interesting personalities of the time. Just like when I first read Little Women, I didn't want this book to end.
Unsurprisingly, I learned far more about Bronson Alcott, than his daughter Louisa from this book, and I'm deeply thankful to John Matteson for reading the former's dauntingly voluminous life-long outpourings of transcendental writings so that the rest of us don't have to. For someone who's familiar with the outline of Louisa May Alcott's life story, it's easy to cast Bronson as a villain, for impoverishing his family for the sake of his ideals. Matteson doesn't entirely let him off the hook, but his nuanced portrait did elicit some sympathy from me, and as painful as the first half of the book was, it was charming to read about the golden age Bronson enjoyed in his twilight years, basking in the glow of his daughter's fame, and finally revered as an intellectual philosopher after outliving most of his more celebrated peers. And what this dual biography really drives home, is that without Bronson's often misguided and bewildering philosophies, Little Women would never have existed.
While I did find satisfaction in becoming better informed about the transcendentalist movement in general, and Bronson's role in it, I only really started enjoying the book when Louisa grew up and started living her own life. I was absorbed, and learned plenty about her that I didn't know, but as much as I enjoyed the book, and recognize how intertwined the lives of father and daughter were, I found myself wondering if I might have gotten even more out of a full length biography devoted solely to Louisa. I half suspect that Matteson might have been more interested in Bronson than his daughter, and at times, I wondered if he had read all of her books. Eight Cousins and Rose in Bloom are mentioned in just one line. It seems odd that Matteson, who devotes lengthy analysis to Louisa's now obscure novels for adults, Moods and Work: A Story of Experience, has nothing to say about a heroine whose maturation process includes reading deeply in Emerson's works, given how much Emerson's friendship features in this dual biography. Matteson also makes no mention of something I learned from reading the recently published Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy: The Story of Little Women and Why It Still Matters, which is that after its first edition, Little Women was revised to polish up the language and grammar -- something that seems relevant considering that the lack of formal education shared by both father and daughter gets mentioned quite a bit. My last quibble is that from the evidence of this biography, it seems that Under the Lilacs never got written at all, but maybe that really would have been for the best.
The mid-nineteenth-century American Transcendentalism movement was, in my admittedly unstudied opinion, little more than high-minded navel gazing—ineffectual but ultimately harmless. But perhaps there was a dark side to this dull un-philosophy. In Eden’s Outcasts, John Matteson examines Bronson Alcott’s fervent embrace of Transcendentalism and the repercussions for Alcott’s family, which included most famously his second-eldest daughter Louisa May Alcott.
In 1843, attempting to live in accordance with the principles of Transcendentalism, Bronson Alcott founded a utopian socialist community in Harvard, Mass, and he moved his wife and four young daughters there to live in self-inflicted deprivation. (As a model for his community, Bronson had rejected the Shakers as not sufficiently ascetic.) Amid philosophic squabbling and agricultural ineptitude, the experiment quickly imploded, nearly starving the Alcotts and imbuing the children with a life-long fear of destitution. Bronson, who had briefly considered abandoning his family during this period, left the farm in a semi-catatonic state of depression.
Bronson Alcott’s other misadventures in Transcendentalism included a failed experimental school in Boston; dozens of critically-panned, nearly incomprehensible essays and books; extended absences from home to lead poorly-paid speaking tours across the Midwest; and myriad financial failures. Hawthorne had once purchased a beautifully-restored estate from Alcott, who was on the verge of losing it to his creditors, and later Hawthorne said he was eagerly anticipating Alcott’s next fire sale. Alcott was not altogether more accomplished as a father. Initially transfixed by the minutiae of his infant daughters’ development, he eventually lost interest in the girls during their early teenage years and withdrew emotionally.
Fortunately, amid the personal failures and disasters, there are notes of hope in Eden’s Outcasts. Louisa May Alcott, of course, became in her lifetime a wildly successful author. Even for someone not intimately familiar with her books, Alcott’s gradual development as a writer and then sudden rise to fame after the publication of Little Women is absolutely thrilling to read about. Eventually, Bronson Alcott too achieved a degree of professional success, but considerably more moving is Matteson’s account of the quiet periods of communion and healing during the Alcotts’ twilight years. Apparently, it takes more than badly flawed philosophy, mental illness, and plain bad luck to keep a family like the Alcotts down.
I read this book because of Bronson Alcott not Louisa. My interests are in Transcendentalism, and I knew that Alcott was right in the middle of this thought movement. I absolutely loved the full picture the lifelong experiences of the Alcott family and the many familiar figures such as Hawthorne, Emerson, and Thoreau who came in and out of their lives. I found Alcott an enigmatic figure. A paradox.
Louisa's life in many ways seemed sad to me. She seemed a tormented soul: she was driven to write and for success, but she couldn't cope with all the attention and in many ways didn't like her fans. She had a fiery artistic drive that burned so brightly it caused great harm to her health. She really wasn't a peaceful person, but we knew about this early on. Alcott described her as inherently fiery and prone to disruptions. But then Abba was famous for her temper, and no doubt what a hard life.
For me the duo biography was necessary, and really, it's a family biography. The family was extraordinary.
The final paragraph of the book is fabulous. For me it addresses what came to my mind about the primary sources, and how in this case, we still get a partial look. The best biographer, and still we get a semi-opaque view, which is in part why I can't fully grasp Alcott. It would be one thing if he was universally thought to be someone who should be dismissed, but he gained praise and admiration alongside derision.
Finally I am reminded what happens when you read several biographies about one person; you can get different views. I was amazed when I read part of another biography on Harry Truman and I learned some new things and the biographer slanted Truman in a different light - not as complimentary as McCullough had, and it made me pause . I had fallen into thinking McCullough's work was the definitive- the absolute right- this is how it was and how Truman really was. But, in the end I believe it's as Matteson says -- we can know some things, many things through the letters and written word, but we can't know the smile, the hand on the shoulder, the far away look, or the soul of the people. For me - it's a 5 star read!
Matteson won the 2008 Pulitzer for biography with this book, and I can see why. His research is extensive and meticulous, and he obviously cares very much for those about whom he is writing. Let me start out by saying that I'm glad to have read this book.
That being said, I can only give it 3 stars--which may be put down to my own weariness with both his subject matter and writing style. Both, for me, were ponderous and at times even pretentious. That last paragraph reveals both, imho:
"To the extent that a written page permits knowledge of a different time and departed souls, this book has tried to reveal them. However, as Bronson Alcott learned to his bemusement, the life written is never the same as the life lived....As writers, as reformers, and as inspirations, Bronson and Louisa still exist for us. Yet this existence, on whatever terms we may experience it, is no more than a shadow when measured against the way they existed for each other."
I've had to put this book down several times, which is unusual for me. I love the Transcendentalists, so I was most interested when Emerson and Thoreau appeared on the page. Alcott himself evinced (a Matteson-type word) both anger and pity in me; his dictatorial idealism put his family through hell, and they never would have survived without the help of others, especially Emerson. However, I agree with Matteson that today Bronson Alcott might be diagnosed with manic-depression, and for that situation I can have only pity.
What DOES come through clearly is that, despite his many flaws, Bronson Alcott was loved by his wife and family and friends--even as he drove them to distraction at times. His rigidity and Louisa's fiery nature brought them into conflict many times--but I never doubted their love for each other, shown most clearly near the end of his life.
However, while his ideals may have been in the right place, the man simply couldn't function in the real world. He constantly blamed others for his misfortune; when Temple School failed, he became vindictive. "To carry his martyrdom to its apotheosis, Bronson had to be utterly in the right; the world had to be thoroughly wrong." (p. 850) He does this again when Fruitlands fails--and meanwhile, his poor wife is dealing with all the "real world" challenges. I don't blame Abba's father for stipulating that the $2000 he left her in his will could NOT be used to pay Bronson's many bills!
His naivety is most evident in trusting Charles Lane, whose snobbery led him to insult Emerson and Thoreau--and Bronson took Lane's side! (p. 111) The whole Fruitlands debacle gave me knots in my stomach, and I want to read Louisa's account of the time Transcendental Wild Oats She could not stand Lane; Emerson and Thoreau would have nothing to do with Fruitlands--yet Bronson jumped in to that disastrous 7 month experiment. I was so angry on p. 158 I had to stop reading for several days, when (with Lane's encouragement) Bronson blames his MARRIAGE for the failing of Fruitlands and considered leaving his family.
The people of Concord mocked him; "a popular joke held that Emerson was a seer and Alcott was a seersucker." (p. 178) But they did like his daughters, and Louisa always treasured both Emerson and Thoreau. The first allowed her into his library and the second taught her to love the natural world. In fact, one of my few delights in the book are the times Matteson talks about how Louisa and her sisters would run and play in the woods. The roots are laid here for the oldest sister Anna, to become "Meg" Little Women, the second sister Lizzie to be come "Beth", Louisa herself to be the rebellious "Jo", and May to be the charming "Amy". (p. 185-187).
Yet Bronson considered both his wife and Louisa to be "dark" souls! He hated their closeness and called them "Two devils...the mother fiend and her daughter." (p. 189) Yep, I had to put the book down again at that point! This led to Matteson's discussion of Alcott's most heinous philosophy that light skin and blue eyes were "good", while darker pigments were "bad". (p. 190). How a man who supported the rights of slaves could hold such an idea is beyond me.
Meanwhile, the book goes on and on about the terrible money problems the family faced, with very little help from Alcott himself. All the women worked to keep food on the table many times; in fact, financial security only came when Louisa began publishing. Matteson does a good job of describing Louisa's writing frenzies as a "vortex". But it was Louisa's short time as a nurse in the Civil War that was to change her life--both in bringing her admiration from her father and a life-long health problem. When she developed typhus, they had given her mercurous chloride--which permanently poisoned her with a "glacially slow mortal illness." (p. 290)
The second part of the book belongs more to Louisa and her endeavors--and I've come to admire her a great deal. She struggled through pain and illness to write the trilogy Little Women, Little Men, Jo's Boys. She gave money generously to her family, and adopted both May's daughter Lulu when May died as well as Anna's son John (so that he could inherit her copyrights). Her tenderness toward her father despite his many flaws touched my heart. And he, in turn, came to appreciate her deeply.
Fitting for two who were born on the same day and died within two days of each other.
The Alcott family emphasis on juvenile self-culture would seem to have been largely futile, even absurd, if it necessarily gave way to mature self-sacrifice. If childhood were all about self-discovery and adulthood wee all about self-denial, who indeed would want to grow up?
I picked up this book based on the recommendation of Meghan Hanet as part of her and Kate Howe's year-long Louisa May Alcott readathon. I had not heard of this book previously and I didn't really have much interest in Bronson Alcott.
I started to read this book a bit hesitantly, as it was both dense with information and filled with a lot of early American figures that I didn't have much interest in. But as I continued to push myself to read, I found myself slowly getting pulled into the narrative. I learned much about the transcendental movement, its early figures, and how some of them, like Emerson, would much rather live in theory than in practice like Thoreau or Bronson Alcott.
Learning about Bronson Alcott's upbringing was interesting but things really got more interesting for him after he got married and started his family. His crackpot melange of metaphysics and philosophy alternately caused derision and infamy and an interested and celebrated following. Because of his lack of common sense on the monetary front and his increasing pursuit of denials of an increasing list of earthly pleasures, I personally don't think he should have gotten married. . As was often the case, a yawning gap stood between Bronson's ability to observe general truths and his capacity for realizing how those very truths affected the people closest to him.
Going into this book, I didn't realize how little I knew about Louisa May Alcott. I had no idea that
Louisa's life was filled with hardships and heartbreaks. On the one hand, the Alcott girls had been expected early in life to begin working and bringing in the money that Bronson was unwilling or unable to earn. Ultimately, I am glad I read this book. I cried multiple times while reading about Louisa and her family's story.
John Matteson delivers in Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father. I read and savoured , not devoured, all that Matteson presented. He brought out the very real humanity of the Alcott family, both their limitations and their expansiveness. Bronson Alcott was man outside of Time, not of this World. He was of Dreams and Hopes and Ideas. Paraphrasing Matteson, Emerson amd Thoreau would have still been great, but they would not have been the same. Of course, Louisa May Alcott would never come into being. And without her Alcott would have seemed to matter less to history. He helped bring her into being, and she made him known past the 19th century.
Great Amount of research into this biography. Of the Alcotts' writings: Notebooks, journals, diaries, letters, literary periodicals. Of their friends' and associates' writing: books, essays, diaries. Archival Materials, mostly from Houghton Library and some from University of Virginia Special Collections. Impressive. Comprehensive.
I can see how a person who adored the writing of Louisa May Alcott would read and re-read this book.
This was a gorgeously written biography that gave such keen insights into the personalities and development of Louisa May Alcott and her father Bronson Alcott. The latter's utopian designs and idealistic spirit led the family into more than its share of hard times, and the former's struggles with moods and eventual mercury poisoning (they gave her poison as a treatment for typhoid while she served as a nurse in the Civil War) made for a difficult and certainly not universally sunny life. But reading about this family and their love for one another and their preoccupation with the world of ideas is really poignant, and Matteson does a great job of charting the development of the relationship between father and daughter from one of relative disapproval to one of submerged tension to one of respect and pride. This biography also provides satisfying glimpses into the characters and landscapes of the American Renaissance and the transcendentalist movement. It made me nostalgic for my own visits to Concord and even more struck by my respect and admiration for L.M.A. The ending of the book is just perfect and made me cry. Such an accomplished and rich biography.
This is a detailed biography of the lives of Louisa May Alcott, author of Little Women, and her father Amos Bronson Alcott. To get a full sense of who Louisa was, one needs to get a fair picture of her father and her entire family. Bronson was of the group of Transcendentalists which included the likes of Emerson, Thoreau, and Fuller. Bronson, an author himself, educator, and speaker did not always live up to the same stature of his peers and the family often struggled because of it. His wife and their four daughters were often left alone to handle the home situation while Bronson traveled for business. It was during these times that the women spent together that gave Louisa inspiration to write Little Women and many other published works. Despite having a strained relationship at times, Louisa and Bronson became close in their later years.
This is a great book for any fan of LMA and the Little Women series. I wasn't always a fan of Bronson and reading about his life was my least favorite part of the book; however, it really helps to understand him and his thoughts and ideas to understand Louisa and what drove and inspired her.
Intelligent and scholarly without being at all dry, this biography is in my opinion, an almost perfect telling of the two great lives. As the writer notes - each member of the Alcott family dealt with compromise and failure, yet the whole family was greater than the sum of its parts. Also interesting is the Alcotts' relationships with other American writers, especially Hawthorne, Thoreau, and of course, Bronson's dear friend and Louisa's great mentor Emerson.
Bronson Alcott was friends with Thoreau, Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Sanger. The really interesting thing Alcott did was found Fruitlands in the early 1840s. Pretty much a vegan hippie commune, it only survived a year and a half. It's hard being a hundred years ahead of everyone else. Louisa was 10 at the time. I've read the short story she later wrote about it, "Trancendentalist Wild Oats."
A fascinating look at the real-life Jo March and her father. The author does an excellent job embedding Bronson Alcott and his family in their New England Transcendentalist milieu, showing how it shaped Alcott's views and influenced his and his family's lives. Matteson doesn't shy away from Bronson's flaws as a father and a husband, but also clearly shows his questioning nature, his wide-ranging (if somewhat unfocused) intelligence, his faith in human nature, and his keen interest in early childhood education. In that, he's much like Louisa herself, who obviously loved her father deeply while still recognizing his shortcomings. I learned a lot about other New England literati as well: Thoreau, Emerson, Hawthorne, etc. I came away from this with a new appreciation for Louisa May Alcott's achievements as well as the family that nurtured and influenced her and a deeper understanding of the autobiographical elements in Little Women, though I was saddened to learn that her life wasn't all that she wanted it to be, and that she died relatively young. I kept wondering what she would have written if she had lived thirty years longer and/or a hundred years later.
I picked up this book from the local library in Concord, MA. As I've just recently moved to the literary haven of Concord, MA I knew I wanted to learn some about the local history. My American history is rusty (haven't studies it in probably 15-20 years) I thought one way to get a taste was to read a biography of one of the most famous Concord families-the Alcotts. It also didn't hurt that "Little Women" has always been one of my favorite books.
This was an interesting biography, but if you're really wanting to learn about Louisa May alone you'll have to wade through several hundred pages detailing her father's life and struggles. They were a fascinating family--Bronson's mental instability, the mother's consequent career in social work, how true to life "Little Women" really is. It sounds like it was a fascinating time, and reading this biography also gives you glimpses of such literary greats like Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Emerson, who were all friends of the Alcott's.
This book also directed me to Louisa May Alcott's first novel, "Moods," which I subsequently read and enjoyed.
A good historical read about one of our nation's most famous authors.
An extensively researched and exceptionally well-written biography of Amos Bronson Alcott and Louisa May Alcott that expresses the foibles, triumphs and humanity of this father and daughter. The author brings the reader into this family as well as the sometimes tumultuous times in which they lived. The transcendentalist philosophies and actions of Bronson Alcott and his surety in his beliefs as a teacher of his children at home and at the failed Temple School and the failed transcendental utopia of Fruitlands led to an impoverished life for his family. At times the reader wants to yell out "Stop! Think of your wife and family!" Louisa is depicted in youth as a rambunctious daughter who defies the constraints of being a girl and was a "tom-boy" with a strong will and displayed her temper; at the same time she desired to be praised by her father as the dutiful daughter. The influences of Abba, Louise's mother, tempered her daughter and Louisa tried to control her impulses. Dr. Matteson draws the reader into this family of parents and four daughters and their experiences as if we were present. We are observing the Alcott sisters' relationship and lives as we see Louisa grow into maturity, crafting her skills as a writer and helping to support her family. Her innate abilities as a writer are encouraged by her father's friendships with Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne and Dr. Matteson describes the family's concerns for others less fortunate even though they were suffering themselves and Louisa contracts her life-long illness after ministering to injured soldiers in a hospital during the civil war. The tense relationship between Bronson & Louisa diminishes in the end & they become supportive of each other especially after Louise's literary successes outstrip her father's. Bronson actually rejuvenates his career as a writer and speaker after Louisa's success. Dr. Matteson gives a picture of the literary personalities, the historical upheaval, and philosophy in America during this time. He also touches on the varied views on slavery, women's write to vote, feminism, the deep-seated love and respect for family, and issues of possible mental illness in the Alcott family. It certainly is fitting that this book was written as a dual biography, for both Bronson and Louisa influenced each other in their lives. Louisa cared for Bronson in his last days and the fact that both shared birthdays on November 29th and both passed away within days of each other in 1888 perhaps reflects the strong bond they had for each other. As Dr. Matteson states "the bonds two people share consists also of encouraging words, a reassuring hand on a tired shoulder, fleeting smiles, and soon-forgotten quarrels."
This Pulitzer Prize winning book was a biography about Louisa May Alcott and her father Bronson Alcott. He was a transcendentalist and part of an inner group of literary greats Thoreau, Emerson, and Hawthorne Bronson was a philosopher and I sometimes found him difficult to love when he left his family to fend for themselves so he could pursue his dream. Other times it was impossible not to love him when his true spirit came out and he showed his love and affection for his family and surroundings and his ideals. Matteson examines Bronson’s fervent embrace of transcendentalism and the repercussions for the Alcott family. The schools he started that failed and the numerous essays and books. We learn about his period of depression when he considered leaving his family and his rationale to come back to his family and a happier though troubled life and his ability to achieve some professional success.
Louisa’s life was at first limited by the needs of her family and other times by the constraints of her time, though she was independent and a feminist. It was thrilling to read about Louisa’s development as a writer and her sudden fame as a very successful author with Little Women and the trilogy of the book. It was sad to read about her health problems she got when she served in the United States Army during the Civil war which plagued her for the rest of life.
This was a fascinating book and recommended to those who want to read about the many accomplishments of the Alcott’s. The Concord School of Philosophy created by Bronson still stands today and welcomes scholars and Louisa’s books remain classics still read today. The terrific bond between father and daughter was incomparable.
This amazing book won the Pulitzer Prize in the category of "Biography". Everyone is familiar with the brilliant writing of Louisa May Alcott; however, few are aware of her perfectionist father Bronson. Bronson was friends with the likes of none other than Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson. His expectations for Louisa were equally as high. They butted heads more often than not, as he did not appreciate her changing moods, nor her desire for fame. The writer, John Matteson, went to extraordinary lengths to get his facts correct and the result is a biography rich in descriptions of the times, the environment, the expectations of women and girls, and the relationship between a father and his daughter. Although their relationship did include love, at times it's difficult for love to shine between people as different as they. I highly recommend this biography. It's deep, it's thought-provoking, and it's wonderful.
One day during Covid-19 my husband was working from home and watching every episode of This Old House. I was in the room and the TV mentioned Louisa May Alcott's house called Orchard House. I immediately looked up and they were showing the renovations that needed to be done to a house that should not have been still standing. I did some research on this house and found out that the director started doing live videos on Facebook when the house had to close due to Covid-19. Every Sunday I tune in and always end with a smile on my face. These live videos bring so much joy into a crazy world. The director has interviewed John Matteson several times and so I finally read Eden's Outcasts and loved it! The author had to do meticulous research to get the timeline right. Louisa's neighbors were Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Emerson. Her father was also friends with Walt Whitman. What a time to be alive?! There are some great stories in here, but I do have to say that Louisa and her father probably both had some mental disorders, as a lot of artistic people do. This was a fascinating read! In the words of Louisa May Alcott, let us hope and keep busy!
This was a tough book to get through but it was worth the struggle. The author, John Matteson, also must have struggled with the mass of information...journals, letters, newspaper articles and other pieces of memorabilia collected and preserved. The Bronson Alcott family members were required to journal from an early age and they did this throughout their lives. However, the fact that they often read their entries out loud and had conversations about them makes us question whether secret thoughts were kept hidden especially during the girls younger years to please their father. I felt that Matteson must have imagined or surmised some of the feelings that were not actually recorded, though this was rare in the nearly 400 packed pages.
Bronson Alcott was a thinker with "a collection of ideas and principles" that he attempted to reform and therefore redeem the world with. This was his mission. However, he was not given the resources to convince others and often his wordy monologues turned people away, although his hopeful attitude tended to draw like minds. He was definitely a character with many redeeming flaws and his family adored him. Family was at the center of Bronson's life and ideals but like most parents he was eventually humbled.
I would not have appreciated Louisa May Alcott nearly as well if I had not first learned about her father and his ideas about teaching, family and nature. Interestingly, Louisa seemed to have the same notions about these things but her personality and experiences made her much more practical. p380 "At age 11, Louisa had cried when her father suggested dividing their family along gender lines. Now, only a few years younger than her father had been at Fruitlands, she saw intriguing possibilities in single-sex community."
p371. "The curious fact that Fruitlands was such a miserable failure while 'Little Men' was such a resounding success....rests on the charming irony." Bronson was too much of a realist. The flesh and blood utopian, Fruitlands attracted few followers. Refined into fiction, however, made the idea a possibility with Plumfield and made the dream come true. Louisa had a good business sense and despite her yearnings to write something meaningful for adults she understood the commercial appeal of sketches and stories that "played gently on the reader's sentiments and she lavishly obliged with images of self-reliant young women braving daunting odds with the encouragement of loyal and loving friends."
It will be interesting to remember this appealing fact when we begin reading "The Hunger Games" !
This book seemed to take forever to finish. It covers the Alcott's lives in exhaustive detail...more than you ever wanted to know about Bronson and very slow getting to the details of Louisa's life.
Interesting in parts, very slow in others. The story of the Transcendentalists was interesting at first, but eventually began to wear pretty thin with me.
Bronson seemed never to realize the stresses and strains to which he put his wife and daughters...actually quite clueless. It was amazing to me that all of the females in the family were so forgiving and understanding of his foibles and seemed to believe in his supposed genius in spite of everything.
Ultimately, Louisa was able to garner the unconditional love of her father, for which she strove all her younger years. Her relationships with her mother and sisters was close and loving through all their lives. The illness she suffered during her nursing days during the Civil War and the extremely damaging treatment she received for it were to take an extreme toll on her health in her mature years, and ultimately resulted in her early death.
Her writing life was astoundingly productive, though she was always disappointed in her wish to write a serious, adult novel, instead spending many years on the Little Women/Little Men/Jo's Boys books and literally hundreds of short stories and other short fiction for serialized magazines. The portrait of her that emerges is one of a woman frequently unfulfilled in her life's work, probably manic-depressive, but at least happy in her roles within a close family. I'm glad I hung in there to read it all.
This was a wonderful insightful book into the life of an American original. Two really. I actually had to check the book out twice to finish it, but it was worth it.
Louisa's life was fascinating - and it is such a tragedy that she was not allowed to live out her potential. The more I read about life in the mid to late nineteenth century, the more I wish I could live then. (Of course, maybe not - I do like modern comforts.)
This book is a wonderful education into the life of LMA. Before this, I only thought of her as an author. Reading this, you discover she was far much more.
I strongly recommend this book to writers, fans of Alcott, and people who just want a good warm book to read. The author did a fabulous job in his exhaustive research, and deeply enjoyed himself along the way. Well written, a work of love, fascinating history that worked as a story in itself. A moving account that made the historical figures come to life. I'm deeply grateful that there are such responsible and human authors out there- both the Alcotts, and Matteson.