Eden’s Outcasts: The story of Louisa May Alcott and her Father

John Matteson

Transcendentalist Bronson Alcott was a Platonist, dietary crank, and utopian dreamer. His long-suffering wife and children bore the cost of his quests and eccentricities. Matteson’s excellent and readable biography tells this story, gives its New England transcendentalist context, and shows how Alcott affected his family—especially novelist Louisa May, whose personality was too lively for him. Matteson doesn’t approach this compelling story from a Biblical perspective, but his specific detail shows how Transcendentalism interacted with perfectionism: The result was an austere gospel of self-denial and self-worship.

Marmee & Louisa: The Untold Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Mother

Eve LaPlante

Abigail May Alcott was born in 1800 and lived until 1877—a time when women were usually supporting players in men’s lives. Because her famous husband, Bronson, and daughter Louisa May destroyed most of Abigail’s diaries after her death, we don’t know as much about her influence on Louisa as we know about Bronson’s. LaPlante, a descendant of Abigail’s brother, tries to remedy that. By relying on secondary sources and letters Abigail wrote to her brother and others, LaPlante is able to show Abigail’s commitment to women’s equality, the close bonds she had with her daughters, and her steady worries about money and her husband’s unwillingness to work.

Truly Madly Guilty

Liane Moriarty

Moriarty seems in tune with modern female sensibilities. The Australian has written a string of edgy novels—one is now an HBO series—that explore the lives of middle-class, suburban women. Here she focuses on three couples who have a spur-of-the-moment backyard barbecue at which something awful that happens causes each of the couples to recalibrate. Moriarty chooses to hide what happened, dribbling out the detail chapter by chapter—but that feels manipulative. This book wrestles with the concept of guilt, which it portrays as a psychological feeling rather than a moral reality. Some characters have foul mouths and questionable backgrounds.

Fitness Junkie

Lucy Sykes and Jo Piazza

In this novel, the talented co-owner of a high-end wedding dress business lives in Manhattan while going through a costly (to her) divorce. Her business partner forces her to take an extended leave because she’s gained weight, which is unacceptable in NYC. That leads to a deep dive into New York’s expensive fitness scene, exploring topless yoga and fitness studios where young trainers earn big tips by verbally abusing their clients. It’s hard to know if this bears any relationship to reality. If it does, you have to pity the young women who subject themselves to the plentiful F-bombs and craziness.

Afterword

Gabrielle Zevin’s novel Young Jane Young (Algonquin, 2017) displays inconsistent storytelling, mostly predictable feminism, and some R-rated language—but it also offers a glimpse into the uneven and continuing effect of sex scandals in the internet age. Part 1, a mother’s funny but crude account of her daughter Aviva’s affair with a married congressman, shows how Aviva’s anonymous blog makes the scandal worse. Part 2 shifts to Maine, where wedding planner Jane Young is raising a precocious 8-year-old daughter and developing a reputation for empathy and secret-keeping. Part 3 consists of increasingly angry emails daughter Ruby sends to her Indonesian pen pal when she learns her mom, “Jane Young,” is actually Aviva Grossman. In Part 4, the congressman’s wife meets Ruby when she shows up to meet the man she thinks is her father. Part 5 is the infamous blog, presented as a “choose your own adventure” story. —S.O.