Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
Summary:
When Marilla Cuthbert’s brother, Matthew, returns home to Green Gables with a chatty redheaded orphan girl, Marilla exclaims, “But we asked for a boy. We have no use for a girl.” It’s not long, though, before the Cuthberts can’t imagine how they could ever do without young Anne of Green Gables–but not for the original reasons they sought an orphan. Somewhere between the time Anne “confesses” to losing Marilla’s amethyst pin (which she never took) in hopes of being allowed to go to a picnic, and when Anne accidentally dyes her hated carrot-red hair green, Marilla says to Matthew, “One thing’s for certain, no house that Anne’s in will ever be dull.” And no book that she’s in will be, either.
My Review:
Anne of Green Gables is the story that comes to mind when I think about the books I read alone as a child.
There are very few in the readers world that are unfamiliar with this story. The movies made were fantastic and Megan Follows the perfect choice to play Anne with an E, but nothing can compare to the original story.
I picked up Anne of Green Gables because I was challenged on Twitter to pick up a book I loved and read it, instead of picking up a book I should be reading. I read half of the book in a single evening, devouring it with the same satisfaction that I would my mom’s potato salad or my grandmothers Texas cake.
My favorite scene in the book is when Anne, just after her performance at White Sands, speaks to the girls and talks about how she likes being just Anne of Green Gables. I’m a person who loves and cherishes home and that, I think, is why I love this book so much. Anne understood me as a child, a teenager and as an adult. She was my literary kindred spirit, as I’m sure she was countless others as well.
One last thing before I wrap this sentimental review up. I still own the 1983 Junior Illustrated Edition of Anne of Green Gables. This is the only book I’ve read the story in. It’s spine is broken and some of the pages are loose and stained with fingerprints or sustained water damage. The illustrations inspire memories of their own, laying on the top bunk of the bunk bed in my grandparents basement, sitting on the big, green chair in my parents living room, eating a sandwich at the battered, scuffed dining table. Each illustration felt like an old friend had emerged from the shadows of my memory and waved hello, and just like that, once again, Anne has inspired my dramatic imagination to flare again.
Discussion Question: Do you have a favorite edition of a favorite book? If so, what is it? Does it give you any specific memories?
