When I was younger, I used to love fanfiction. Whether it was romances between my favorite ships or extended AUs that unpacked beloved worlds, I’d spend hours on hours lost on fan sites, devouring more content. And while many Traditional Readers deride fanfiction as simply wish fulfillment, those online chapters taught me a lot about writing. In those endless hours, I learned about narrative consistency and character development, about which types of books and worlds held up to expansion and exploration.

Over time, I grew to appreciate the fanfiction that asked the best “what ifs”. Some of my favorite genres already ask this question – fantasy and science fiction constantly inspect the effects of changes to power structures and policies on society. The best fanfiction takes this a step further, asking about the corners of the world the author hasn’t yet explored. It’s a fun exercise in taking worlds and expanding them to their natural conclusion – and in questioning my own blind spots, for often fanfiction reveals an angle to a story I hadn’t yet considered.

As an adult, I find myself enjoying these “what ifs” even more. And I’ve been reading quite a few of them lately, so I thought I’d run through a few. First up is Katie Bernet’s Beth is Dead, which reimagines Little Women into a modern-day murder mystery. Then we have Hamnet, where Maggie O’Farrell imagines the genesis of one of Shakespeare’s greatest tragedies. And finally, The Other Bennet Sister by Janice Hadlow, which follows hapless Mary Bennet as she finds her way through Regency-era Society.

What if… Beth March had agency?

Beth March has long been considered the least interesting of the March sisters. Like Meg, she’s kind and sweet; unlike Meg, she never has cause for unhappiness, in part because she dies so young. Beth is less a character and more a symbol; in the story, her illness and death serve as catalysts for her sisters’ own growth. Of the March sisters, she’s the only one who can’t choose her own ending, and that lack of agency can smart, especially for a modern feminist reader.

It is to right this wrong that Katie Bernet picked up the pen to write Beth is Dead, a modern reimagining of Little Women. In it, Beth doesn’t simply die of chronic illness; instead, she’s murdered, and it’s up to her sisters to figure out whodunnit. Jo and Amy each spend time digging into the crime, learning more about their sisters and associates than they may have ever wanted.

There are strengths and weaknesses to this approach. Strengths: we get to imagine “what if” Beth wanted to keep living? What if everyone around her treated her death like a sudden, sharp tragedy, digging into it instead of moving past it? What if she were a little more like her sisters, a life cut short instead of one gently brought to rest?

Weaknesses: the setup requires quite a bit of twisting the plot to make work. Bernet needs a reason for Father March to disappear, she resolves with an unpleasant twist – he wrote Little Women about their family (and killed Beth off preemptively, for the drama!); this made him so notorious, he’s now in hiding. Bernet also needs reasons to investigate each of the characters and their pasts, which means they must each have reasons for disliking Beth so much that murder is plausible. The result is a March family that’s quite a bit sharper than their original iterations – Beth gains agency at the expense of her family’s characters.

This setup does lead to some interesting meta-fictional commentary on the modern relationship to Little Women and the sisters. Beth, frustrated by her portrayal in her father’s novel and her social media caricature as the “nice one”, starts to take control of her own life a bit more. This is probably the most interesting part of the book – the one that both celebrates Beth’s kindness, refreshes it for the modern day, while giving her character room to respond to accusations of passivity. But is it worth the changes to the rest of the cast? I’m not entirely sure…

What if… Hamlet mourns a real boy?

Sometimes, a good “what if” story explores why a story exists in the first place. Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet follows Shakespeare’s wife, Agnes, through her marriage to William; the birth and death of their son, Hamnet; and the first performance of Hamlet onstage.

The story opens on Hamnet himself, searching desperately for help for his sister’s ailments. The young boy runs through Stratford, trying to find help until he reaches the physician, then returns home to try and support his family with his sisters’ care. The story alternates in timeline, between the desperate fight for Judith’s (and then Hamnet’s) life, and the marriage and courtship of their parents. The urgency and desperation of the narrative grow and grow, timelines switching frenetically, until Hamnet’s passing. Then both parents retreat – Will to London, Agnes into herself – until the announcement of Hamlet brings Agnes to the Globe, curious and furious to see what her husband has done in her son’s name.

The result is an emotionally turbulent “what if” that explores womanhood and motherhood in an age when children died young. O’Farrell tries to fill a hole in history, and she successfully realizes the pain and isolation a young wife might have felt as she moved to town and tried to raise a family without her husband’s presence. But her focus on Agnes means that our understanding of Hamnet – of his character, of his loss – remains abstract. We witness Agnes’ pain without truly understanding her loss; we watch her react to the first showing of Hamlet without understanding, truly, what inspired it. It’s a portrayal of grief and isolation – raw, emotional, visceral – but not an exploration of it.

What if… Mary Bennet had a voice?

For another exploration into a similarly overlooked character, we can turn to Janice Hadlow’s The Other Bennet Sister. The story follows Mary Bennett from childhood, through the events of Pride and Prejudice, to her own happy ending. And while we see all our favorite characters through Mary’s unreliable narration, Hadlow’s more interested in exploring Mary’s own path to happiness.

Hadlow really digs into Mary’s psyche, asking what could have created the isolated, awkward character we meet in Austen’s novel. Her Mary starts out the novel hoping for her mother’s approval, only to realize she’s not nearly pretty enough to earn it. She tries to earn her father’s praise via reading, but her interests differ from his. As she tries and fails to interact with society, she spirals inwards, lacking connection or support that might help her grow. Things start to look up when she reaches the Gardiners, who give her a clearer path through society’s rules. Mary learns to share her thoughts and gain from their discussion; when she’s less focused on fitting in, she grows into herself.

In Austen fashion, Mary’s story ends with a romance; but really, this is a story focused on finding confidence and with it, happiness. In that way, Hadlow’s been quite clever, because that’s the secret of all Austen’s novels – her heroines earn love when it improves them, wearing away their sharpest edges and teaching them to appreciate difference. But unlike Austen, Hadlow’s picked quite an unlikable heroine – one with, admittedly, a harder hand to play from, but who exacerbates it with a bit of a victim mentality and a unwillingness to engage with her emotions at all.

This approach has led to some divisive discussions on the book, with several readers frustrated by Mary’s “bad takes” on Lizzy, Jane, et al. But, in my opinion, this is the whole point – Mary is so wrapped up in herself that she can’t find happiness around others; only once she gains some confidence and emotional intelligence can she truly engage with friends, family, and suitors. It’s a very humanizing re-imagining of a character who’s often maligned and made fun of. And honestly, while I wish I were Lizzy, Hadlow’s Mary rings just as true to me – and hits a little closer to home than I’d like to admit.

Reimaginings and constraints

The joy of fanfiction “what if” is in the imagining, in understanding how others experience a work both similarly to and differently from you. Each of the books above – Beth is Dead, Hamnet, and The Other Bennet Sister highlight a different aspect of a classic work than what’s traditionally taught. Each converses with the cultural discourse around its inspiration, de-centering certain characters to explore others more deeply.

On reflection, I find that my preference is for these kinds of works to understand the limits of their inspirations when choosing a theme. Beth is Dead suffers most from this, as the March family ends up distinctly different in tone and deed than their inspirations. Hamnet also struggles – its emotional arc resonates, as long as you don’t think too hard about whether remembering your son as the Mad Prince would actually soothe grief of any kind. The Other Bennet Sister is, in my opinion, the best of the three in exploring within the bounds of its story – but your take may vary depending on how much credit you give Hadlow for deliberately unreliable narration. I’d love recommendations for more such stories – any favorites to share here?

Until next time – stay cozy, and stay curious!

This post will cover two entries in my 52 Book Club for the year: title that starts with the letter “O”; and inspired by the top grossing movie the year you were born.