In L.M. Montgomery I Trust

There are times when we are able to draw happiness from the stories of others. Perhaps this is when we are most human, when we allow ourselves to become aware of the bonds that inextricably knit us together and discover that the joys and sorrows of others are our own. This awareness was brought upon me four years ago after completing the 1908 novel, Anne of Green Gables. Despite having developed a love of books from a much younger age, this was the first time I had connected with a fictitious character on such a deep level. The young heroine, Anne Shirley, and I possessed no outward similarities. She did, however, come to embody all that I wanted to become. I admire Anne’s independence, headstrong persona, and peculiar frame of mind that surpasses her years. She is endowed with loyalty and the ability to love fervently. Anne recounts all that is around with her with such depth, transforming the shallow tides of adolescent sadness into beautiful "depths of despair" and "perfect graveyards of buried hope". After each reading of Anne of Green Gables I carry a feeling of contentment, having developed a new pair of eyes and a favorite novel to boast about.  

Anne with an 'e' in her reverie

Anne is not yet fond of Gilbert Blythe but I am