The Ginger Heroine Who Shaped My World

Embracing Kindred Spirits, Imagination, and Imperfection

I’m not sure how your favorite book chooses you, but I do know that Anne of Green Gables will always be my go-to comfort read. I do not know how many times I’ve read it (lots!). I do know that it has shaped how I see my world. What about this story speaks to me more than other books? Let’s dive in.

I think initially I was drawn to Anne Shirley because of the redhead connection. Believe it or not, it’s a real thing. We gingers have to stick together! Montgomery totally leans in to the firey redheaded temper stereotype which made me feel seen and validated. When I was a middle-schooler reading Anne for the first time I would NEVER have acted rashly out of anger in public. All my anger stayed tucked away inside. I kind of loved Anne for showing hers.

I connected to Anne’s desire for friendship. While many book orphans (Sara Crewe, Pollyanna, Heidi…) were naturally friends to all, Anne expressed how lonely she was. Her heartfelt desire for a bosom friend showed her vulnaribility, and as someone who had friends in high school, but not a “bosom friend” (what we now call a BFF…) it was my teenage heart’s desire as well.

“Marilla,” she demanded presently, “do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?”

“A—a what kind of friend?”

“A bosom friend—an intimate friend, you know—a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I’ve dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it’s possible?”

Anne was a dramatic creative. She constantly characterized people and places by their “scope for imagination” and loved to read, ramble, use big words, and make up stories. And while prickly Marilla scoffed a bit at the use of that imagination, others loved Anne for it. As does the reader. But oh did it get her in so many scrapes! The escapades that are fit into this one book are some of the best. Just reading through the chapter titles makes me smile in remembrance.

“Marilla is a famous cook. She is trying to teach me to cook but I assure you, Diana, it is uphill work. There’s so little scope for imagination in cookery. You just have to go by rules. The last time I made a cake I forgot to put the flour in. I was thinking the loveliest story about you and me, Diana. I thought you were desperately ill with smallpox and everybody deserted you, but I went boldly to your bedside and nursed you back to life; and then I took the smallpox and died and I was buried under those poplar trees in the graveyard and you planted a rosebush by my grave and watered it with your tears; and you never, never forgot the friend of your youth who sacrificed her life for you. Oh, it was such a pathetic tale, Diana. The tears just rained down over my cheeks while I mixed the cake. But I forgot the flour and the cake was a dismal failure. Flour is so essential to cakes, you know. Marilla was very cross and I don’t wonder. I’m a great trial to her. She was terribly mortified about the pudding sauce last week. We had a plum pudding for dinner on Tuesday and there was half the pudding and a pitcherful of sauce left over. Marilla said there was enough for another dinner and told me to set it on the pantry shelf and cover it. I meant to cover it just as much as could be, Diana, but when I carried it in I was imagining I was a nun—of course I’m a Protestant but I imagined I was a Catholic—taking the veil to bury a broken heart in cloistered seclusion; and I forgot all about covering the pudding sauce. I thought of it next morning and ran to the pantry. Diana, fancy if you can my extreme horror at finding a mouse drowned in that pudding sauce! I lifted the mouse out with a spoon and threw it out in the yard and then I washed the spoon in three waters. Marilla was out milking and I fully intended to ask her when she came in if I’d give the sauce to the pigs; but when she did come in I was imagining that I was a frost fairy going through the woods turning the trees red and yellow, whichever they wanted to be, so I never thought about the pudding sauce again and Marilla sent me out to pick apples. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Chester Ross from Spencervale came here that morning. You know they are very stylish people, especially Mrs. Chester Ross. When Marilla called me in dinner was all ready and everybody was at the table. I tried to be as polite and dignified as I could be, for I wanted Mrs. Chester Ross to think I was a ladylike little girl even if I wasn’t pretty. Everything went right until I saw Marilla coming with the plum pudding in one hand and the pitcher of pudding sauce warmed up, in the other. Diana, that was a terrible moment. I remembered everything and I just stood up in my place and shrieked out ‘Marilla, you mustn’t use that pudding sauce. There was a mouse drowned in it. I forgot to tell you before.’ Oh, Diana, I shall never forget that awful moment if I live to be a hundred. Mrs. Chester Ross just looked at me and I thought I would sink through the floor with mortification. She is such a perfect housekeeper and fancy what she must have thought of us. Marilla turned red as fire but she never said a word—then. She just carried that sauce and pudding out and brought in some strawberry preserves. She even offered me some, but I couldn’t swallow a mouthful. It was like heaping coals of fire on my head. After Mrs. Chester Ross went away, Marilla gave me a dreadful scolding.”

I think her imperfectness makes Anne appealing to us. Yes, her trials are hilarious to a reader. However, they make her real. It’s why we resonate more with Jo than Beth in Little Women. We adore Beth - she’s an angel - but imperfect Jo is someone we can relate to. We relate to Anne because she makes lots of mistakes, which makes us feel better for the ones we make that aren’t nearly as dramatic.

“Marilla, isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”

“I’ll warrant you’ll make plenty in it,” said Marilla. “I never saw your beat for making mistakes, Anne.”

“Yes, and well I know it,” admitted Anne mournfully. “But have you ever noticed one encouraging thing about me, Marilla? I never make the same mistake twice.”

“I don’t know as that’s much benefit when you’re always making new ones.”

“Oh, don’t you see, Marilla? There must be a limit to the mistakes one person can make, and when I get to the end of them, then I’ll be through with them. That’s a very comforting thought.”

Without spoiling anything if there are any of you who still have not had the joy of reading this book, Anne of Green Gables hits all the emotions in such a real and wonderful way - lonliness, anxiety, fear, love, teen-awkwardness, stubbornness, grief, friendship, pride, sacrifice and so much more. The book helps you appreciate nature and kindred spirits. And it’s not only Anne that’s well-written. Matthew, Marilla, Rachel Linde, Diana Berry, Aunt Jo, Gilbert (be still my heart) Blythe, Mrs. Allan, even Josie Pye... they’re just all so well-written, developed characters. They have become living breathing souls to me and when I reread this story I’m visiting old friends.