Replacing Marmee

Marmee: “You think your temper is the worst in the world, but mine used to be just like it.”
“Yours, Mother, why you are never angry!” And for the moment Jo forgot remorse in surprise.
“I’ve been trying to cure it for forty years, and have only succeeded in controlling it. I am angry nearly every day of my life, Jo; but I have learned not to show it, and I still hope to learn not to feel it, though it may take me another forty years to do so.” (Little Women, Louisa May Alcott. Nelson Doubleday: New York, pp 65-66).
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“When asked for an example of a Good Mother, the women I polled came up with June Cleaver and Marmee, from Little Women. Both of whom are by necessity, not coincidence, fictional characters.” (Bad Mother, Ayelet Waldman. Anchor Books, 2010: p 11)

I first read Little Women at the tender age of nine or ten, an age at which analytical thought is not yet developed. From the time I read the book, I loved it. I – like many girls – identified strongly with Jo, and also loved the figure of Marmee, whose image I carefully extracted from the book to place on my mental trophy shelf as the prototype mother figure. As my own mother joyfully sacrificed for the five of us and rarely lost her temper (at least in the years after I developed my long-term memory), the actions of my real mother supported my election of Marmee as model. Though the book is so moral that even Louisa May Alcott failed to love it upon first reading, and all of the characters are idealized to some extent, it did not dawn on me to ever critique Marmee. I never saw a word against this beloved figure until reading one of Ayelet Waldman’s books. I cannot recall which book it was, but the heroine’s mother said something to the effect of, “Oh that Marmee, I just couldn’t stand her!” After nearly falling out of my chair in shock, I had to admit that it was a relief to read that someone did not like Margaret March.

Strangely, the things we read, hear, or see in childhood help to shape our world despite the obvious flaws which could be discerned from even a haphazard critical analysis. We are just not suited to perform such analysis in childhood, and by the time we reach our teen years and develop a healthy skepticism and/or cynicism, it is usually directed at events, persons and authority figures of that time, not our earlier years. At least that is how it went with me . . . whose believe in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus outlasted that of all my peers. Perhaps we just don’t want to be critical of our beloved constructs.

In case you have not made Marmee’s acquaintance through Alcott’s books, here is a quick summary of her character from the (not-so-analytical) experts at Shmoop.com:

““"Marmee" is the affectionate name that the March girls use for their mother, Mrs. March, whose real first name, like her eldest daughter, is Margaret. Mrs. March is essentially the perfect mother: she works hard but is never too busy to console and counsel her daughters; she cheerfully does charitable work and helps out with the war effort; she's an ideal housekeeper, a loving mother, and a highly principled woman. She never loses her temper, she never misses anything, and she protects her children while still allowing them to make mistakes and learn their own lessons. “
(http://www.shmoop.com/little-women/marmee-mrs-march.html)

You can see how a mother operating under that blueprint might occasionally get a bit down on herself. In a recent fit of Google-mania I searched high and low for criticism of Marmee. I got many positive and simplistic character analyses like the one above, feminist criticism warmly noting Marmee’s strength as a woman in a virtually single-parent home who had a strong educational influence over her girls, and a note about the “realism” of Alcott’s books, which were ostensibly ahead of their time by twenty or so years. When I searched specifically under the key words ”criticism of Marmee” I had only typed the capital M before I saw “criticism of Mother Teresa” but when I finished my original thought I had exactly zero hits. So either I am alone in my past reverence of Marmee or there truly has been very little written about the negative influence she has had on modern-day motherhood.

To wit: I can recite nearly word for word the dialogue between Jo and her mother about losing their temper. I have even borrowed the phrasing, telling folks that I try to hide my temper and “hope not to feel it” in another forty years. Now that I have nearly reached forty, and fail remarkably at hiding my temper every day, it seems that I finally have to admit that I am not as perfect as Marmee. This is a bitter pill to swallow. Instead of trying to attain her level, I will have to try to replace Marmee as my image of perfection. Roseanne Barr, anyone?