books: anne of green gables et al

Still favorites. I always liked them for combining both the most romantic and best parts of nineteeth/early twentieth century small towns and communities with realistic assessments of what they were like; loving something without glazing it in impossible idealism. It always makes me more than a little amused when people talk about the nuclear family and it's singularity and above-all-ness; I can't imagine it working at any point in history when community was so necessary to survival, much less social interaction.

It also reminds me it's a fairly modern luxury to be able to socialize only with people you like; I'm not entirely sure, when reading, whether it's altogether a good thing. Being able to restrict your social interactions that much, and quickly eliminate on the basis of not quite simpatico instead of required social interaction means never really developing both the ability to get along with people and also miss the opportunity to know people who make take time and effort and skill to deal with, and I'm pretty sure it's worth the effort.

It was also a hell of a lot harder to end a friendship when you are pretty much going to see them forever until you die at every social event; that's pretty good motivation to get over yourself and move on and fix what you can--which surprisingly isn't as hard as it sounds. I like happy endings, though.

Anne of Windy Poplars is both my least and most favorite depending on mood; I'm not a huge fan of epistolary writing at the best of times, and I always manage to forget that it's the eternal exception to the rules. Her letters to Gilbert are always hilarious, and I always faintly wish there'd been a volume of his to her; he always struck me as one to have just as many odd adventures and fall into as many odd scrapes.

Currently at Anne's House of Dreams. I skipped about a bit to get to my favorite bits, and Miss Cornelia is not be missed.