Deep Dive Into Jane Lee

This is a book I have read, at least, 30 times.

I do not know why, but I have found myself searching my many bookshelves for this book, over and over again, to visit stern Marilla, sweet Mathew, loyal Diana, and of course, chattery Anne.

The book is, quite thick, although it should be. It is about half the size of an A4 paper. My book is small, thick, and a light yellow, with a red-haired girl walking towards a sweet little gable. Every time I see it, it gives me warm, sweet feelings, as if it is my home.

I am a stubborn re-reader, and I re-read books so much that they tear in the middle of the pages, and on top where I flick my pages across because I use a book stand to read while I do other things. My Harry Potter books are tattered and old, with almost every page a gigantic tear in the middle, and missing top parts- although I only received them a few years ago.

My Anne book, though, I have been careful to not tear the book, always carefully prying off the pages from the book stand arms and blowing off small dust that dares to land on it.

I am also a stickler for no spine cracks to appear on thick books (although I give up once they appear- then I give myself the satisfaction of making millions of spine cracks) so my Anne book has remained quite spotless.

You can tell I love Anne of Green Gables, both the outside and the inside, very much, and I do.

And there’s a problem with that, because I can’t bear to read the other Anne books.

I don’t want her to grow up.

I want her to stay, sweet, full of mistakes, youthful, playful, the picture of Anne everyone has. I want her to stay the same way she was in the beginning, that dramatic soul that sweetened up the hearts of everyone else, and mine too. I want to only dwell on her childhood, the imaginations of that girl, which I loved so much to read.

One of the biggest depths of despair (If I do quote Anne) in this book was that Mathew died.

Mathew was a true kindred spirit. He was a sweet, shy man who loved Anne more than anything in the world and was the one who helped Anne develop in so many ways. When he died, I felt like I was Anne, swallowing up my sorrow, trying to move on. It brought tears to all of the people in the book, and it brought tears to me too.

It felt like, and still feels like it’s indicating Anne’s development into a mature adult. That the chatterbox that Mathew liked when he was alive, was gone.

But I cannot deny that her wisdom, as she grows up, is not valuable. There was this line from when Anne’s friends (Which I realized with delight one was named Jane) were talking about how happy they would be if they were rich, Anne says these wise lines.

“We are rich, girls.” (Or along those lines)

“Look at that sea, girls–all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn’t enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds.” 

Isn’t that true? Just because one is rich, doesn’t mean we shall always be happy. Although there were many lines in which Anne made an impact on me, this one was wiser, and showed how much Anne knew how lucky she was, to have people who loved her, that she was a part of a community that she might never have been in.

And so, I end this writing with another one of Anne’s beautiful words, a realization that the young, youthful Anne might not be so gone as she might be:

I’m not a bit changed–not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real ME–back here–is just the same.”