Hello,
Little Women fans!
I hope you are all doing well today.
It's boiling hot here in Finland now that I am recording this and my cat hid herself under the bed.
It must be cooler there.
Things are just about to get hotter with this episode.
Today's comment shoutout goes to British Broadway Books who says,
Why does no one talk about that party,
Little Women,
When Joe and Bear are being cute in the rain and Joe asks him to stay and Bear says,
But I have nothing to give you,
My hands are empty.
And Joe puts her hands in his clasps,
Them shut and goes,
Not empty now.
Honestly,
What a literary legend.
A lot of times people ask me what's your favorite Joe and Fredrick moment.
I don't really have a favorite scene,
But I loved the entire courting period.
For those of you who have not read the novel,
Fredrick and Joe,
They do not fight when they are in New York like they do in the adaptations.
Which doesn't make any sense.
It's actually Joe and Laurie who fight in the book,
But they don't fight in the adaptations.
Thing is,
Joe in the book,
She herself wasn't happy writing sensational stories.
She literally had mental problems and anxiety caused by that and Fredrick helped her to leave the toxic environment of the magazine where she was working and there are filmmakers like Greta Gerwig who says that Fredrick was somehow abusive to Joe and tried to prevent her from writing,
Which is bollocks.
I don't think she has even read the novel.
All of those things happened to Louisa as well.
She stopped writing sensationalism because she was being asked to write from topics that she herself found repulsive.
In New York,
Joe starts to develop feelings for Fredrick and when Laurie proposes,
Which in the book happens after she has returned from New York,
She even gets mad when Laurie makes fun of Fredrick.
In New York,
Fredrick he also begins to develop feelings for Joe.
Night before she is leaving,
He is looking around the room and missing her presence.
In the novel,
The reason why Joe goes back to Concord is because Beth is ill.
If that would not have happened,
She would have stayed there for a longer time.
Then Joe and Fredrick start to write letters to one another and they do that for quite some time.
Then Beth passes away and Joe gets into a very dark place,
Which is understandable.
Then Laurie and Amy return and they are engaged.
Joe is very happy for them,
But she is lonely.
And then she reads some of Fredrick's letters again and she misses him.
And when she reads these letters,
She gets inspired to start writing again.
But it is not a book that she is writing,
It is a poem about Beth.
And it becomes one of her most successful poems.
Fredrick indirectly helps her that way as well,
To become a genuine writer.
And then Fredrick comes back.
He comes to see Joe.
And she is so incredibly happy when he comes.
This is a quote from the other art blog.
I have expressed my frustration and disappointment in the 2019 movie,
Cause it was the first time I ever heard of Little Woman,
And it even biased my reading of the actual book.
I was expecting Bear to be this mean,
Judgmental man who criticized Joe unfairly.
I was expecting their confrontation scene,
Which made me very uncomfortable while watching the movie.
English is not my first language,
So when I was reading the chapter where she has psychological distress for writing sensational stories,
It confused me.
And then of course,
She and Bear never fight.
Moreover,
He was right.
And when he arrives at Concord,
I was incredibly surprised at how much I loved him.
And then learning that he was based on a man Louisa deeply loved,
Makes so much more sense.
Cause really,
If we believe the argument that she only brought him back to give Joe a funny match,
Why would Louisa had written such a romantic and beautiful chapter?
I found it impossible not to smile.
There's just so much love there.
It is actually really sad and horrible how a movie can create such a hateful view towards a character,
In this case Professor Bear,
And then also affect the way some people read the book.
But in this case,
The reader decided to make their own conclusions,
Which is admirable.
This episode is sponsored by Audible,
And Audible offers an unlimited library of ebooks and audiobooks for you to read and download,
And you can get 30-day free trial with the affiliate link in the description.
It might sound really silly to some people,
But I used to have this pretty naive belief that all people who say they love Little Women have actually read the book and the sequels.
Which is obviously not the case.
The reasons people don't understand Joe's and Freddie's and Amy's and Laurie's relationships is not anything that happens in the novel.
It's that the adaptations intentionally keep erasing their relationships.
When Freddie comes to court Joe,
The family notices that Joe indeed has deep feelings for him and that these feelings are mutual.
I made a whole episode about the 19th century courting,
It's called Love and Sex in Little Women.
Watch it if you haven't seen it yet.
There are some things that I have changed my mind completely when doing this research.
Like I've talked to people who say that,
For example,
In the 1994 film,
When Joe and Freddie are making out in the opera and Meg and Joan are kissing in the snowfall,
That is not authentic for the time period.
I disagree.
My guide on this topic,
Historian Karen Lystra,
Says that in the 19th century America,
Couples in love often showed affection to one another during the unchaperoned courtship.
Do Joe and Freddie in the book kiss in the opera?
No they don't,
But when they are in New York he is really the only person who Joe wants to spend time with.
If I would be in New York,
I'd be all over the place,
But really Joe just wants to be with him.
When he does tell her that he loves her in the Umbrella chapter,
Then they show affection and it's actually Joe who first kisses him.
And that's not the end of the book or the love story,
It continues in the sequels and also that kind of unchaperoned affection can be found from Louis' other stories,
The ones that are meant for more major audiences.
The narrator mentions how Freddie goes to the west to earn money so he can afford to build a home for Joe,
And Joe stays in Concord writing.
They agree to work together for their shared future,
And Fritz wants to provide for his nephews.
They have a year-lasting engagement,
And at some point Aunt March passes away and she leaves her house to Joe.
It's really funny because Laurie says that I don't think you can turn your professor into a farmer,
And Joe says he'll do it if I ask.
And then Joe expresses to her family that she wants to start a school for boys and Friedrich to be the teacher.
I have mentioned this before,
But Louisa wrote in her journal of her own desire to start a school together with Henry Tarrow.
So in a way Little Woman became a wish fulfillment for Louisa to get the life that she would have wanted to herself.
What has sparkled the interest of many Little Woman fans in Joe's and Friedrich's relationship is this time period of long-distance relationship,
The year-lasting engagement,
Quote from Little Woman.
For a year Joe and her professor worked and waited,
Hoped and loved,
Met occasionally and wrote such voluminous letters that the rise in the price of paper was accounted for,
Laurie said.
Laurie is like the biggest Joe and Friedrich shipper in the novel.
I should make an episode entirely dedicated to that.
I am a very picky fanfiction reader.
I only read canon-inspired Little Woman fanfiction,
But to my luck there are some writers who do an amazing job capturing the essence of Joe's and Friedrich's relationship.
One of them is Middlemarch,
Who wrote this beautiful piece of fiction that I am going to read to you.
If you are following me on YouTube or listening this on YouTube,
I have made a fanfiction playlist there,
So there will be more to come.
This is Small Umbrella in the Rain,
Little Woman Podcast,
Time of Courting,
Little Woman,
Joe's and Friedrich's Engagement,
And Ecstasy to Guess from Middlemarch.
Joe,
I'm joining your father now.
Everything should be ready for Professor Bear,
But I trust you may take care of anything I have forgotten.
I wish you both good night and I'm sure the good professor already knows.
But Joe,
I wouldn't stay up too late,
Boys will be up there with the sun and eager for their breakfast and then,
I would guess,
To tumble about the yard.
The first snowfall always seemed to affect children the same way.
Good night dear mommy and the father as well,
And I remember how eager I was to play in the snow.
I expect nothing less from France and Emil,
But I welcome your advice,
Joe replied.
I also bid you good night,
Mrs.
March,
And thank you for your hospitality and your wisdom.
I am still becoming accustomed to the New England winter,
Friedrich added.
Just so,
My dears,
Joe's mother said and closed the door behind her.
They heard her light tread upon the stair,
The weather adding to the mild creaking throughout the house until she reached the top.
Then it was quiet again,
With only the cheerful crackle of the fire and the sound of the questing wind curling around the house.
Will you two come sit a little closer by me,
My Joe,
Unless.
.
.
Friedrich asked softly.
Joe did not wait when she could be near to him,
When the past year apart had been so long.
She moved from the corner of the sofa to the place beside Friedrich,
Her full skirts brushing against his legs,
And it was not a moment before long,
Before he picked up her hand where it rested in her lap and held it in his.
She leaned against him a little and felt the roughness of his tweed coat against her cheek.
The fire leaped in the heart,
The flames seeming to dance,
And Joe became aware that Friedrich was carefully stroking her hand,
Tracing the creases of her palm,
The calluses,
The small healing burn at the base of her thumb.
She had again underestimated the copper teakettle,
The space between them,
The edges dissolving like a meringue.
The light in the room was evenly balanced with the shadow and Joe felt herself so much easier with the touch of Friedrich's hand on hers.
She was aware of his eyes resting on her without shame,
On her palm,
Her grey eyes,
Her throat where her collar parted and showed the skin fair and sensitive.
She thought this was how it would be to be married,
To sit thus on their own sofa,
Their own fire,
With children sleeping soundly above them.
And then Friedrich began to speak,
Josephine,
Hart's theorist,
Does too,
Does too know what is desire.
Joe startled but the light,
The falling snow,
Friedrich's hand on hers,
All made her feel a languor,
Unfamiliar but appealing and safe.
She did not know the town he used of,
It reminded her of when he'd spoken to her in New York of her writing,
But now he was so tender,
Even that the writer within her noted,
Always cataloguing everything,
Even that was not entirely accurate.
There was something else,
A quality she had no context for,
A charge,
His accent wrapping around the word's desire,
Was the word he uttered but not the one he had chosen for,
It's within his mind.
She did not know enough to guess what it would be.
It is longing,
Isn't it,
What I felt when you were away,
So far away,
Joe answered,
She had thought she was correct,
But Friedrich moved a little,
There was a gleam in his eyes,
She did not recognize except that she had not satisfied him,
And yet he did not seem like the professor frustrated with his student's failing,
Not at all.
That is part of it,
Diebschan,
But not all,
We will be married soon,
In a matter of weeks,
And I would not have thee afraid or surprised,
But perhaps you would not speak of these things before two are my wife,
He said,
There had been a smile in his tone,
But it had faded as he spoke,
And then uncertainly he had crept in,
She still felt beguiled,
The firelight and the snow,
His hand upon hers,
And his dark eyes seeing into her heart.
But then why did you ask?
I think if you think we should speak of it,
We should,
If I do not know what I ought,
I mean to be a good wife,
But I know I have so many shortcomings and faults,
Joe said,
Trying to be direct and straightforward,
When everything felt like it was smoke and shadow,
Mystery and enchantment.
She felt confused,
But not as distressed as she might have imagined,
He was warm beside her,
And to have him near,
When he had been so far,
Almost like a dream that she had feared would never come true,
She would learn whatever was needed,
And he would not ask her anything that would not suit her.
O Josephine,
Thou wilt be the best wife I could ever have,
Better than I deserve,
Of that I have no doubt,
I am selfish and greedy,
That I would ask thee now,
But thou art so lovely,
And I confess,
I am moved by this first snowfall,
How much it reminds me of home and two beside me.
I should have said nothing,
Should have only Hortai's sweet hand in mine,
He said.
She could not say what it was that made her do it,
What word or expression he had uttered,
To hear her name said like the Empress's,
Whether it had been the play of light in his dark eyes,
Or his square palm pressed against hers,
But she reached her hand up to caress his bearded cheek.
When he stopped speaking,
He let her hand rest there a moment and then turned his head,
Took her hand in his and kissed the centre of her palm,
Very softly,
But with an intent she was transfixed by,
Heart's dearest,
He breathed,
And then he laid her hand back in her lap and put both his upon her face,
His thumbs stroking her cheeks.
Delicately,
Friedrich was looking at her with such love in his eyes,
And she knew that whatever she believed,
He thought she was entirely,
Unusually beautiful,
And she blushed with unexpected delight of seeming so,
Being so to him.
So schön,
He murmured,
And his hands were still,
Then his mouth was on hers.
They had kissed before under the umbrella in the cold rain.
She had reached up for him and felt how soft his lips were amid the tickle of his beard.
When he had returned from the west,
At her parents' door,
He had bent his head in impetuous greeting and he had been swift and ordained.
She had not been swept away,
Not completely,
For the first time the dab and the bundles round their feet had recalled her and the second,
Immel had barrelled around and secured himself to her skirts like a limpet,
And the moment had ended with laughter.
This,
The third kiss,
She might have expected to be different.
She was a writer,
And even longer,
A reader of fairy tales,
And she knew the significance of the third iteration,
And especially a kiss.
She might have expected,
But she could expect nothing,
Imagine nothing,
But what there was.
She perceived first only the entrancing sweetness of it,
Then the heat of his mouth on hers.
The way he shifted little by little,
Each moment another kiss,
Deeper and more urgent,
Till she parted her lips,
Hoping for something more she could not name.
She was not satisfied,
But overwhelmed,
When he kept kissing her,
Breathing her breath,
Beginning to taste her,
And letting her do what she would with him.
She laid a hand against his cheek and another at the back of his head,
Each stroking him so that he would come ever closer to her.
His hands had dropped all around her waist,
And one was laid against her back so that he seemed to be everywhere around her,
And yet there was unspoken cry within her that he was too far.
She arched towards him,
And he slid the hand at her waist upwards till he touched her ribs through the bodice of her dress,
The gentle hand exploring and finally gracing her breast.
Deliberate and sure and male,
This caused such a shock of pleasure,
Such a fierce,
Commanding thrill,
That she gasped,
And he broke away,
Just far enough to look at her flushed face,
Her exhilarated grey eyes,
Her lips reddened.
He laughed a satisfied proud laugh,
And said,
This is desire,
Josephine,
I thought,
I hoped it would be so for thee,
That I might delight thee as I knew thou would delight me,
And we have made such a beginning.
Ay,
This,
This is proper,
To feel so,
So much and still to want,
Something,
You must tell me if I am immodest,
Friedrich,
She replied,
Making an effort to reflect,
To consider her response and express herself appropriately,
But finding herself drawing closer to him,
She pushed herself further into his grasp,
Tilting her head,
So he might answer her with words or without them.
It is the most proper leaption,
For I love thee,
And I think to love me.
Between us there can be nothing immodest,
For God himself decrees that we should incline towards each other,
He said,
And then matched his actions to his words and returned to kissing her again.
He was very gentle,
But tenacious and curious,
Seeking her response,
But incited her and suited.
He reached to her ribbon,
That tied her snot,
And paused to let her agree if she would,
He allowed her slightest nod to be his answer,
And pulled the silk apart through the black netting from her and let her hair fall over her shoulders.
Now he catched to feel what was familiar to Jo,
The weight and spiel of her hair,
Growing long again since she got it early in the war,
And he stopped kissing her to whisper in her ear.
Jo,
To Art,
Revealed to me,
To hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes,
And he began to kiss her neck,
Her throat,
Folding back to lay's collar,
But making no move to unbutton it.
Jo felt the urge to do so within her own hands,
Her own collar or his,
To loosen his clavat and find the way beneath.
Everything,
Every reaction within herself and in Friedrich was a revelation.
She had been so happy when he proposed,
Having lost hope of him,
And while he was away,
Her gladness had become a contentment that she would have her dear companion back,
First in months,
Then weeks.
The night before he arrived,
She had not thought she would sleep,
But she had and had dreamed joyfully until the morning came.
Each day since,
She had found all the little interstitial times.
She was smiling,
Sentimentally giddy,
As she had hardly ever been as a young girl,
Eager for his return and for the day approaching,
After which he would always be only as far as the other room.
But this extraordinary embrace had upended all her glad certainty about what a marriage could be,
And the way he stroked her unbound hair.
His sight against the sensitive skin of her throat made her want what their bedrock would be.
Was this always the way of true love,
And the only she had been too blind or dull to see it?
Or was this something new,
Unique,
Without precedent?
Who was this Jo March,
Whose sight and murmured and clung?
She had never put much stock in the physicality of things,
Had not appreciated the crispness of fresh muslin,
Or the ripple and swiftness of a silk skirt as Meg did,
Or Amy's yearning for marble under her hands,
The depths of cobalt and vermilion in her paint pots.
She had not really understood even Beth's sunny smile at the changing weight of a frisky kitten in her lap,
A piano,
Finely tuned,
Jo knew she had lived for words,
And the castles in the sky she could construct with them.
But she began to wonder at what she might have dismissed as delicious his caresses were.
She wanted most now to talk with Friedrich,
To hear his grounding perspective on what was happening between them,
His words even now more valuable than the touch of his hand,
His mouth,
The remarkable warmth of his skin.
Friedrich!
She had only to say his name,
And he had put away from her,
Enough to look right at her.
His dark hair was tousled,
And his eyes so bright.
He was animated in a way she had not seen much of before,
But it was not that.
He seemed a younger version of himself.
He was the same Friedrich Bär in a tweed coat and worn far on west,
His dark beard and temples touched with grey.
But she thought this man was first Josephine March's lover,
And that was the difference.
Liebchen!
Yes,
What is it?
I don't know.
I'm not even sure what,
How to ask my question.
Is this what you,
What you have shown me,
Paused and saw his smile even more affectionate as she used the language he preferred?
Is this only what everyone experiences,
And it's only that it's not discussed?
I thought I understood love,
Loving tea,
But now I am uncertain.
Please don't worry,
I am saying it all so poorly.
I hadn't thought there were ways to love tea that I did not already know.
But this evening,
To be in thy arms,
Is there even more?
Is this all?
O my Josephine,
I have never met thy equal,
Anyone with the courage to ask question,
But I must try to tell thee what I know,
And two will know if I have spoken truly,
Thy honest heart will tell thee.
What is between us,
How to kindle me,
And how effected to are in turn,
This is always possible when there is love,
But not required.
I have not found it is the ordinary way of it.
Among men it is spoken of a little,
A very little this sort of synchronicity,
And I think among women,
Gently raised,
Likely not at all.
Thy family is unusual,
Two and thy sisters were educated nearly as boys might have been,
Expected to address others and thy God as independent,
Responsible souls,
And two knew nothing of this,
So I must imagine it is same here in America as in Germany,
That the quality of love we bear for each other is rare,
A rare gift.
He lifted his hand just as quickly,
Dropped it down.
What did you mean to do just then?
Joe asked.
Only this,
He replied and moved back a lock of hair that had fallen forward and brushed against her cheek.
If she had done so herself,
She would not have remembered.
It was such a small gesture,
So frequently undertaken,
And yet to feel his fingertips against her skin,
Along the angle of her jaw,
And fleetingly against her earlobe,
Was like the spell that awakened the princess to the world she had missed behind her briar.
Oh,
When you,
When you touch me,
I haven't words for it.
Isn't that silly,
Joe March,
Who styles herself such a writer?
How does she know what,
How to do that,
To evoke such elation in me?
Friedrich laughed,
A rich,
Low laugh that was congenant of the hour,
The snow continuing to fall outside of the window,
The shy blush on Joe's cheeks,
And her determined look,
Her wish to understand.
I feel I have not such great expertise,
Diebchen,
But that two are untouched,
And two told the truth.
Die erste Liebe is die beste.
That two does give me all as two promised.
I am not sure I believe thee,
Friedrich.
I am sure that can't be all there is,
Joe insisted,
Narrowing her eyes a bit.
Friedrich laughed again,
More merrily.
Well,
I am not a young man,
Josephine,
And once I had my own wilder days in Berlin at university.
It was the way to go public houses,
The first beer gardens copied from the ones in Munich.
There were serving girls who were not averse to attention from their patrons,
He said.
Diebchen,
I have shocked thee with this,
But two must remember I was not always the solemn professor.
I have been a boy like thy friend Mr.
Lawrence and his compariots,
The young men you remember from the boarding house in New York,
And their many scrapes.
I am not proud of my own small transgressions,
The stolen kisses,
My youthful voice,
But I must think more kindly of them now,
I suppose,
I suppose,
Joe repeated.
She was not marrying a boy,
And she was not a girl.
She must accept that her Friedrich had lived a varied life before he met her,
Even if her own had been rather circumscribed other than her literary voyages.
Had Aunt Marge chosen her and not to Amy?
She thought it would have made little difference.
She could not imagine she would have spent her time abroad flirting and making cow-eyes at likely or unlikely gentlemen crossing her path.
It was hard to reconcile the man before her,
Still learned and kind above all,
Even if she had discovered his passionate nature with the boy he described cavorting about Berlin,
Making blonde-serving maids plush.
Diebchen,
Meine süße Josephine,
I wish thou would not trouble thyself.
My love for thee is all that I could have ever hoped for.
Thou art a woman I could never have dreamed of,
And to know thou will be my wife.
My past is so distant,
And I mean to keep thee so near.
This night should only be the brightest heart-bringer of our marriage.
How blessed we are by God to have been brought together,
To be reunited so easily,
And to find we are matched even better than we had imagined.
You are my dearest companion and my sweetest,
Most desirable lover,
And soon enough the aunt to two younglings who are already half in love with thee.
And they will wake us,
All of us,
Earlier than you think.
So we must say good night,
I believe,
Friedrich said,
Resting a hand on her wrist for an instant before rising and reaching out to take her hand as they walked towards the stairs.
The fire had dimmed to embers,
Barely needing to be banked.
At the foot of the stairs Friedrich stopped and bent to kiss her.
This kiss was only the lightest brush of his mouth on hers,
But he took her in his arms and pressed her against him.
His hands slowly stroked her loosened hair,
And she thought fleetingly of how she would need to braid it before she slept.
Then he spoke very quietly,
Too asked if this was all,
And I did not answer.
But I shall tell thee,
There is more left for us,
More to be given.
I had been a little afraid that ours would be a marriage of two dear friends,
Because I have always,
Always longed for thee,
Desired thee,
And I did not think I should expect more than two had already given so generously.
But tonight,
Tonight I have learned that what caused thee in my heart also lives in time,
That ours will be a love complete and fulfilled.
If only I do everything in my power to gladden thee,
And I will.
Now I hope two will sleep well,
Knowing I will dream of thee every night until two are my bride,
And even then,
When two are holding my arms,
I will fall to sleep with thy name on my lips,
And wake to whisper Liebchen in your ear.
I will dream of snow and firelight,
And thy grey eyes,
And how they looked after I kissed thee.
Jo knew they must stop,
Must go to bed,
And yet she wished to stand beside the new old post and listen to such devoted love-making till the dawn broke.
But the boys would wake,
And Hannah Popovers would not wait,
And she meant to be a good wife,
Not merely an adored bride.
So she laid a finger on Friedrich's mouth to silence him,
And smiled,
A crooked smile she knew he would remember,
And flew up the stairs before she could fly back to the man she loved so.
She ran down the hall and into her room,
And she heard his soft chuckle rising up the stairs.
She thought she too would dream tonight,
And now she knew what she dreamt of and what to call it.
That was the story.
Here are some of the writer notes.
Part of my ongoing effort to make Jo and Friedrich real people.
Here is a story looking at the end of their engagement,
Right before their marriage.
There are three quotes from the Song of Solomon,
And the title is from Emily Dickinson.
The German should be very obvious from context,
I think the longer phrase is of a quotation from the Under the Umbrella chapter of Little Woman.
Well,
I can give you the translations.
Liebchen means beloved in German.
Liebchen meine süße Josephine,
My beloved sweet Josephine.
Jüngling means a boy or a young man.
Die erste Liebe ist die beste.
This is what Friedrich says in the Umbrella chapter.
First love is the best.
And of course this is a reference,
Because Luisa May August's first love was Henry David Thoreau,
Who was a professor of philosophy.
Thank you for listening.
I will put the links to Middlemarch's Jo and Friedrich fanfics.
You can listen Small Umbrella in the Rain on all the major podcast platforms,
Soundcloud,
Spotify,
IHeartRadio,
Etc.
We are on Instagram under the name Little Woman Channel and on YouTube Small Umbrella in the Rain,
The Little Woman Channel.
Take care and make good choices.
Bye!
