How did I miss that?

I’m a huge Little Women fan.  I’m sure this shocks nobody, but it’s true.  I read it for the first time when I was about nine, & I still give it a read at least once a year.  Sometimes that’s enough, but sometimes it’s just a jumping off point.  Sometimes I spiral into a Louisa May Alcott binge that won’t be satisfied until I’ve torn through her entire backlist.  

When my firstborn turned out to be a girl, I tried to name her Louisa.  My husband vetoed that for inscrutable reasons, so I suggested Josephine.  Who doesn’t love Jo, right?

My husband, evidently.  He vetoed that, too & I gave it up.

So let the record show that I am an afficianado of the spunky heroine.  I adore flawed little girls who desperately want to be good.  Who want to be worthy of a family they cherish.  I have a real soft spot for old fashioned lasses with plenty of imagination,  oodles of courage & dresses that leave something to be desired.  

So how the heck did I miss Anne of Green Gables? 

I was telling a friend a few weeks ago that I was reading Little Women aloud to my girls (joy of  joys!), and she was properly appreciative.  She recommended Anne of Green Gables as a follow up & I had to confess I’d never read it.  I couldn’t imagine why not.  I mean, I’d knocked off Laura Ingalls Wilder’s entire ouevre by second grade.  I’d eaten up Caddy Woodlawn, Pippi Longstocking, Ramona Quimby.  How had I missed Anne Shirley?

Well, I had.  But fear not, good people.  I have a Nook.  I snapped up the entire nine book series for 2.99.  (A real bargain, considering that adds up to about 2000 pages of happiness.)

I’m currently on page 1568, & I have to say, I’m a fan.  Anne’s such an exuberant little soul–all imagination & heart.  I like to think she’d find me, in her immortal words, a ‘kindred spirit.’  I, too, appreciate situations that allow ‘scope for imagination.’   You don’t want things too defined, after all, too cut-and-dried.  You want space between the lines.  Where else are you going to write your story but in the spaces between what you know & what you wish?

I’m already dreading the end, though I’ve got another 500 pages at least.  I’m going to miss Anne Shirley.  But she has made me wonder when the last time was that I met a fictional character that felt like such a friend?  When was the last time you opened a book & found a ‘kindred spirit?’  Closed a book & thought, “Man.  I’m going to miss her/him?”  Share!