Recently, I felt the need to revisit Anne, Marilla and Matthew on Prince Edward Island. Anne of Green Gables and its many sequels were one of my most beloved childhood series, and there’s something beautiful in the nostalgia you experience in re-reading these classics. At the same time, the story is a somewhat different experience when you’re an adult.
It took a little while for me to empathise with Anne, this time around. Perspective changes things, and as a grown up, I’m now approaching Anne’s story from more of a Marilla standpoint than from Anne’s. Does that make any sense? Just go with it. What I’m trying to say is that Anne wasn’t a kindred spirit (to borrow a term) as quickly now as she was when I was ten. I think it took time to settle into the cadence of Anne’s thought patterns, and her dramatic whimsy. But I love her. I defy anyone not to love Anne. Her boundless imagination, wild flights of fancy, and implacable optimism are incredibly endearing. Why Can’t I Say Goodnight: