Fictional Food Adventure: FINAL BOOK: Reading Anne of Green Gables by L.M Montgomery

Anne of Green Gables is a part of me. 

I have loved it from the moment I first saw it. I first discovered it on the tv. I don't know how old I was. Maybe 8 or so. And it appeared out of nowhere into our lounge; this green and gorgeous Avonlea filled with Apple Trees and Blossom, Plum Cakes and poetry, and Anne. 


I just adored everything about it. It was perfection. It was pure heaven. Mum and I used to sob together over dear Matthew and laugh hysterically over Anne's face when she admitted she'd let a mouse drown in the plum sauce.

When I read the books I found them to be comfortingly familiar, with some extra treasures not shown in the tv series. 

When I was supposed to be revising for my GCSEs, I spent most of that wonderful first piece of freedom called Study Leave, in the haven of my garden. I sat on the grass in leafy shade, and read the entire series, from Anne's first glimpse of Green Gables, to her own children growing up, decades later. Although I wouldn't recommend this method of exam preparation to everyone, I believe that, for me, it was the peace and escape I needed to avoid worrying about the looming exams. I did just fine and was ecstatic with my grades, and that little period of my life will stay with me forever. 

It's been a while since I picked up a copy of Anne of Green Gables, perhaps because I know it so well that it is always accessible in my mind. I say "a" copy, because I have many. There's the copy I bought with my own pocket money years ago, and the copy I bought later because it had a Lauren Child illustration on the cover. Then there's the version that's part of the Puffin "In Bloom" series of classic children's fiction that are so gorgeously printed and bound that I need them all on my shelf. And then there are the copies that I don't yet own, but one day will. 

Reading Anne of Green Gables is a delight and a treat. When I am reading it, I am visu-mentally in Avonlea, surrounded by all the beauty that Anne revels in.  Anne has a deep appreciation for the beauty around her and the book is full of descriptions of dusk and mornings and evenings, and light and colour and flowers and trees and water and views. It is a richly gorgeous place. Even if my reality is concrete and brick walls, instead of wooden verandas and rolling meadows, it's lovely to have such a place as Avonlea to climb into. As well as the scenery, it's full of brilliant characters and countless hilarious scenarios, hope, love and wonder.

I don't think I need to say much more about the book itself. If you have read it, you already understand its wonders, and if you've never read it, I leave the many treasures still buried within for you to discover and cherish.