Why does someone past the Psalmist’s “threescore years and ten” find himself entranced by a 150-year-old novel aimed at adolescents, namely, Louisa May Alcott’s “An Old-Fashioned Girl”?
The credit or blame – take your pick – for this infatuation lands on a friend whose passion is for older fiction aimed at young readers, like the Little House books or the Anne of Green Gables saga. A year ago or so, she asked me – commanded might be a better word – to read the first few adventures of Anne, which I admit were enjoyable. The writing in particular surpassed most fiction I read today.
And then, two weeks ago, I came across the Alcott book at a book sale, picking it up as a possible gift for one of my granddaughters. I looked it over on my return home and began reading. I’m exactly halfway through, but wanted to share why Americans, young and old, need more stories like this one.
The plot is simple. Fourteen-year-old Polly Milton arrives at the home of her good friend, 16-year-old Fanny, for a six-week stay. The wealthy Shaw family, which includes Tom, a boy Polly’s age, and Maud, a child, are “sophisticated” city folk. With her country dress and simple ways, Polly is poorly matched with the Shaw family.
Where she really differs, however, are in her virtues and viewpoints. The three Shaw children are a miserable lot, tormenting one another, disobeying or mocking their parents whenever they can get away with it. Their parents are little inclined to correct their behavior or even show them much attention. Only Grandma, who keeps most observations to herself, notes the sharp contrast between her family and the goodness and cheer Polly has brought to the household.
Not that Polly is perfect. Contrary to the social rules of this set, she goes sledding and is caught. To her chagrin, she occasionally criticizes Fanny’s friends, who are equally as disdainful of their parents and who wear the clothing and jewelry of adults while aping their morals as well.
Though set in a time of candles and carriages, “An Old-Fashioned Girl” struck me as having a good deal to say to our postmodern age. Polly is a girl of principles taught her by her parents; Fanny and her school friends are, as the entertainer Madonna once sang, “living in a material world.”
The book made me think of our young people today, among whom are my grandchildren. At one point, Polly writes to her mother to ask if she might have her favorite dress altered so that she might look more like Fanny and her friends. Her mother replies sweetly in the negative, reminding her daughter, “The least of us have some influence in this big world; and perhaps my little girl can do some good by showing others that a contented heart and a happy face are better ornaments than any Paris can give her.”
How few of our young people possess contented hearts can be seen in the dreary statistics regarding the shocking rise in anxiety, depression, and other mental and emotional problems now so prevalent among them.
In the Shaw family we also find the family dysfunction that plagues our culture today. The disconnectedness, the constant spats of the children, and the emotional distance between parent and children are strikingly familiar. Today we blame much of our dysfunctional family life on screens and social media, and there’s truth in that charge, yet the American family was already malfunctioning years before the digital age.
Early in the story, Polly attends a play along with Fanny, her friend Clara, and Clara’s father. Here she sits, first entranced, then disgusted by “one of the new spectacles which have lately become the rage … dazzling, exciting, and demoralizing the spectator by every allurement French ingenuity can invent, and American prodigality can execute. Never mind what its name was, it was very gorgeous, very vulgar, and very fashionable; so, of course, it was much admired….” In that single sentence is a description of much of today’s American culture.
Finally, Polly’s story of her stay with the Shaw family set me to thinking about our recent 250th celebration of Independence Day. Most of our festivities extolled our material achievements and liberties, but little was said of the responsibilities which, as our founders stated repeatedly, are the girders supporting those freedoms. We rejoiced in American exceptionalism while failing to acknowledge the virtues and responsibilities that had for so long supported that success.
Polly understands this practice without really understanding the idea behind it, which is to say, she follows her mother’s kindly reminder that “the least of us have some influence in this big world.” In her case, whenever she becomes discouraged by her failure to fit into Fanny’s family or her set of friends, Polly looks inward rather than casting aspersions, reminding herself to be kinder to others. It’s a tiny act of virtue, but given some of the ordeals she endures, a heroic one.
Virtue coupled with responsibility for oneself and for others is the message of “An Old-Fashioned Girl.” It’s also the formula, as the founders told us, for a good life and a healthy republic.
Jeff Minick is a father of four and grandfather to many. A former history, literature, and Latin teacher, Jeff now writes prolifically for The Epoch Times, American Essence Magazine, and his Substack.
This culture article was made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal, a project of 1819 News. To comment on this article, please email [email protected]. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News.
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