Before I began to read Anne of Windy Poplars, I had seen it
described as a book consisting entirely of Anne’s correspondence with
Gilbert. I thought that sounded interesting, certainly a change from the
previous novels. But as I began to read, I found it wasn’t a change
that I liked. Anne is a wonderful character, but I much prefer
Montgomery as a narrator, offering her impassive observations of Anne
and all those with whom she comes into contact. After 30 pages flowing
from Anne’s pen, I was wondering whether I would be able to endure an
entire book written in this fashion, complete with all sorts of rather
awkward interjections of “darling,” “dearest,” beloved,” and all those
other words that I wonder if people actually use, even when addressing
their fiance. They don’t seem to fit Anne somehow and strike me as an
unnatural affectation. But I suppose old chums fall into different
manners of address after they’ve become engaged.
It was with
relief that I observed, shortly thereafter, that this epistolary style
was not sustained throughout the entire book. As soon as I fell
comfortably back into Montgomery’s familiar narration, I began to enjoy
the book much more and didn’t mind the lapses back into letters that
continued throughout the remainder of the novel, but never more for 40
pages at a time. I even managed to avoid being too disappointed that
Avonlea virtually vanishes in Anne of Windy Poplars, resurfacing
only twice in order to show its transformative powers over a bitter
young woman and a lonesome little girl of Anne’s acquaintance. Of the
old Avonlea crowd, the only one we really see at all is Mrs. Lynde,
mostly indirectly through Anne’s correspondence. Marilla and Diana are
essentially absent. Oddly enough, Gilbert is too, though Anne is forever
writing to him. But we are never actually in his presence at any point
in the book. Anne of the Island dealt largely with Anne’s
dissatisfaction in putting childhood behind her and accepting the
shifting of her cherished relationships. Here, Anne seems to have come
to terms with this new stage of her life. This is her real entrance into
adulthood, and it seems appropriate that she is surrounded by strangers
and forced to work things out on her own.
Of course, no one
can stay a stranger to Anne for long. She meets all sorts of interesting
new characters in Summerside, where she is to be principal for three
years. The town, dominated by the proud Pringle family, initially seems
turned against her, but one by one Anne charms even the most ardent of
her enemies, quickly becoming one of Summerside’s most beloved figures.
Montgomery’s tendency towards weaving a series of vignettes is
especially pronounced here, as she often entangles Anne in the affairs
of a group of characters who become the book’s focus for two or three
chapters and then are never heard from again. Evidently all this was a
bit much for the director of the film Anne of Avonlea, who
combined the threads of five such stories in order to create one of the
film’s major subplots concerning young Emmeline Harris, her crusty
grandmother and timid aunt, and the distant father who would fall in
love with Anne. I wondered how that wisp of a romance would work in this
novel, as Anne and Gilbert are already engaged, and found it
interesting that in fact that entire aspect had been invented, though
there were in it threads of Anne’s earlier courtship with Roy at Redmond
University.
Anne’s greatest personal challenge in the book is resolved in the first half of her first year. The remainder recalls Anne of Avonlea,
as she spends the bulk of her time trying to help her new neighbors out
of their troubles. While many characters are only a part of the novel
briefly, several play an important role throughout. Most prominent of
these are Aunt Chatty and Aunt Kate, the elderly widowed sisters who own
Windy Poplars, which Anne makes her home for three years; Rebecca Dew,
their eccentric and contrary but ultimately loveable housekeeper; Dusty
Miller, the affectionate cat frequently maligned by Rebecca Dew; and
Elizabeth, the neglected, elf-like young girl for whom Anne becomes a
much-needed confidante. I found them much more engaging than Anne’s
Redmond housemates and grew quite fond of them by the end of the book.
The dozens of characters introduced in vignettes throughout the novel
are similarly well-defined and the incidents in which they are involved
amuse and enthrall.
In the end, I liked Anne of Windy Poplars
quite a bit more than I thought I would after those first few chapters.
It seems rather isolated amongst the books, just Anne on her own
without her friends in Avonlea or the old familiar landscape to back her
up. I suspect it is also the most epistolary of the novels, which is
just as well. For a book so set apart from the beloved Green Gables, it
is ultimately quite satisfactory.
No comments:
Post a Comment