[Those of you who are reading the book for the first time: you've been warned. It WILL spoil the book if you read ahead. If you decide to do so anyways, then don't blame me, if you please. I told you. *Grin*]

Little Women is my favorite book.

That may come as a surprise to some of you who know what a Jane Austen/Bronte sisters fan I am. But it's true. I didn't always think so—for a long time I honestly couldn't tell you what my favorite book was, because my favorite authors were all so wonderful. Then I read Little Women again, and it was decided. That book never fails to bring a full range of emotions out of me. I always end up laughing at some point, and I always end up crying. And it isn't always at the same part. Last time I read it, the scene in which the Hummel's baby dies made me go bezerk, when it hadn't ever really done that before. The time before that, Laurie's proposal. Even though I wholeheartedly believe that Jo did the right thing.

Oh, yes. And that brings me to the point of this article. (Notice title?)

I know many people who think Jo should have married Laurie. I disagree.

Now, as noted in the title, I am only a young girl. I'm sixteen. I haven't been married. All of my knowledge in these matters comes from the Bible (through the teaching of my parents, mostly), history, literature, and observation of others—not from personal experience. I fully acknowledge that. (But I still think I'm right. *Grin*)

Jo is a headstrong girl. She has strong opinions, and she doesn't hesitate to voice them or act on them. She doesn't easily let go of them, either (Stubborn). She is very independent—she doesn't like relying on others for her needs. She's a do-it-herself person. She either loves or hates—she doesn't really have an in-between view. Staunch and hearty. Bold and brave. Doesn't really think before she acts. Clumsy, but she sort of gets over that.

Laurie is very similar to Jo. He's got strong opinions, he's stubborn as a mule, and he doesn't do a lot of looking before he leaps either. He's tired of the usual, like Jo. Wants something different to satisfy his curiosity. That's why they both hit it off so well. They're very alike, and they're equal in most respects.

So they become very good chums—and as chums they suit each other very well. Neither has to defer to the other—they can argue to their hearts' content, or run races, or anything else, without much trouble, because, as I said, they're equal.

So after a while, Jo figures out that Laurie is getting a little more sentimental towards her than she likes. She goes to Marmee.

“It may be vain and wrong to say it, but--I'm afraid--Laurie is getting too fond of me."

"Then you don't care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you?" and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.

"Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely proud of him, but as for anything more, it's out of the question."

"I'm glad of that, Jo."

"Why, please?"

"Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love."

"That's just the feeling I had, though I couldn't express it. I'm glad you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy, for I couldn't fall in love with the dear old fellow merely out of gratitude, could I?"

THEN, Laurie asks Jo to marry him. Apparently he's had it in his mind ever since he met her, but never let on.

Jo's reaction is as follows—not the whole passage, of course, but the most important part.

"I agree with Mother that you and I are not suited to each
other, because our quick tempers and strong wills would probably
make us very miserable, if we were so foolish as to..."
Jo paused a little over the last word, but Laurie uttered it
with a rapturous expression.

"Marry--no we shouldn't! If you loved me, Jo, I should
be a perfect saint, for you could make me anything you like."

"No, I can't. I've tried and failed, and I won't risk
our happiness by such a serious experiment. We don't agree and
we never shall, so we'll be good friends all our lives, but we
won't go and do anything rash."

**I read an excerpt of a book in which the author said that Laurie was more like Beth than Jo—she quoted various descriptions from the book—“bashful,” “wistful,” “very polite,” “all alone and sick.” Also, they both love music. That made some sense to me—I think he's like Beth in some ways, and like Jo in others. Anyways, I hold to my view even more with this point, because Jo leads Beth—not the other way 'round.**

Look at what the Bible says about the husband-wife relationship. Women must obey their husbands. Women must be submissive. Women must respect. (Husbands must respect too, of course.) Can you see Jo and Laurie being this way?

So they each go their seperate ways. Now let's skip ahead to Professor Bhaer. Professor Bhaer is an older, absent-minded, German professor. He's very kind and thoughtful of other people. He is strong in his beliefs. Jo very soon learns to respect him, and to hold his views in high esteem. She unconciously tries to earn his goodwill, and seeks his opinions on some things. He almost takes a fatherly role. And he, recognizing the vulnerable position of a young woman far away from her family, sort of looks after her.

“...presently several of the philosophers, each mounted on his
hobby, came ambling up to hold an intellectual tournament in
the recess. [...]
She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and
found him looking at her with the grimest expression she had
ever seen him wear. He shook his head and beckoned her to
come away, but she was fascinated just then by the freedom
of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat, trying to find
out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after
they had annihilated all the old beliefs.
[...]
He bore it as long as he could, but when he was appealed
to for an opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation and
defended religion with all the eloquence of truth--an eloquence
which made his broken English musical and his plain
face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued
well, but he didn't know when he was beaten and stood to his
colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got
right again to Jo. The old beliefs, that had lasted so long,
seemed better than the new. God was not a blind force, and
immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She
felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again, and
when Mr. Bhaer paused, outtalked but not one whit convinced,
Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.

She did neither, but she remembered the scene, and gave
the Professor her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him
an effort to speak out then and there, because his conscience
would not let him be silent. She began to see that character
is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty,
and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined
it to be, 'truth, reverence, and good will', then her friend
friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.”

He doesn't require her obedience, but she gives it unknowingly because of her high opinon of him.

“Mr. Bhaer caught sight of a picture on the [newspaper] hat, and unfolding it,
said with great disgust, "I wish these papers did not come in the house.
They are not for children to see, nor young people to read.
It is not well, and I haf no patience with those who make this harm."

Jo glanced at the sheet and saw a pleasing illustration
composed of a lunatic, a corpse, a villian, and a viper. She
did not like it, but the impulse that made her turn it over
was not one of displeasure but fear, because for a minute
she fancied the paper was the Volcano [the paper for which she writes suspense stories]. It was not, however,
and her panic subsided as she remembered that even if it
had been and one of her own tales in it, there would have
been no name to betray her. She had betrayed herself, however,
by a look and a blush, for though an absent man, the
Professor saw a good deal more than people fancied. He
knew that Jo wrote, and had met her down among the newspaper
offices more than once, but as she never spoke of it,
he asked no questions in spite of a strong desire to see her
work. Now it occurred to him that she was doing what she
was ashamed to own, and it troubled him. He did not say to
himself, "It is none of my business. I've no right to say
anything," as many people would have done. He only remembered
that she was young and poor, a girl far away from
mother's love and father's care, and he was moved to help
her with an impulse as quick and natural as that which
would prompt him to put out his hand to save a baby from
a puddle. All this flashed through his mind in a minute,
but not a trace of it appeared in his face, and by the
time the paper was turned, and Jo's needle threaded, he
was ready to say quite naturally, but very gravely...

"Yes, you are right to put it from you. I do not think
that good young girls should see such things. They are made
pleasant to some, but I would more rather give my boys gunpowder
to play with than this bad trash."
[...]
As soon as she went to her room, she got out her papers,
and carefully reread every one of her stories. Being a little
shortsighted, Mr. Bhaer sometimes used eye glasses, and Jo
had tried them once, smiling to see how they magnified the
fine print of her book. Now she seemed to have on the Professor's
mental or moral spectacles also, for the faults of these
poor stories glared at her dreadfully and filled her with dismay.

"They are trash, and will soon be worse trash if I go
on, for each is more sensational than the last. I've gone
blindly on, hurting myself and other people, for the sake of
money. I know it's so, for I can't read this stuff in sober
earnest without being horribly ashamed of it, and what should
I do if they were seen at home or Mr. Bhaer got hold of them?"

Jo turned hot at the bare idea, and stuffed the whole bundle
into her stove, nearly setting the chimney afire with the blaze.

"Yes, that's the best place for such inflammable nonsense.
I'd better burn the house down, I suppose, than let other
people blow themselves up with my gunpowder," she thought as
she watched the Demon of the Jura whisk away, a little black
cinder with fiery eyes.”

I know I'm quoting very long passages here, but you really have to read the whole book to understand the Jo-Professor relationship as it gradually blossoms. I'm doing my best to represent it condensed here.

“Grief is the best opener of some hearts,
and Jo's was nearly ready for the bag. A little more sunshine to
ripen the nut, then, not a boy's impatient shake, but a man's hand
reached up to pick it gently from the burr, and find the kernal
sound and sweet. If she suspected this, she would have shut up
tight, and been more prickly than ever, fortunately she wasn't
thinking about herself, so when the time came, down she dropped.”

In the light of all this, let's compare two heroes with very similar roles. Take Professor Bhaer for one, and Colonel Brandon as the other. Now, Colonel Brandon isn't absent-minded, but he is around the same age, and takes a protective role over Marianne.

What makes it so wonderful when Marianne marries Colonel Brandon, but so disappointing when Jo marries the Professor?

***

I'll be quiet now. *Grin* But I'd love to hear what you all think, because I just don't understand. I hope I've given someone a little food for thought.

Oh, and another footnote. I do like Laurie very much. I believe I mentioned that his proposal has had me in tears. It had Jo in tears too. Just because she cared very much about him and loved him as one of her best friends doesn't mean that she had to marry him.