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Posts Tagged ‘Emily of New Moon

If you want to know who I am inside, read the Emily trilogy by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Most everyone knows and loves Montgomery’s most famous creation: Anne of Green Gables. I love Anne too. Yet Montgomery considered herself more akin to Emily. And so do I.


The two girls, Anne and Emily, have a lot in common: They’re both orphaned from an early age. Each is raised by a domineering woman, with a supportive male figure in the background. Both wish to please their guardians, while firmly adhering to their own opinions of what is right and wrong. In conjunction with these conflicting desires, each craves to be loved not because of how obedient they are but rather simply for who they are. Both are highly emotional and imaginative—and therefore misunderstood by proper and stodgy adults. Each feels passionate about beauty, especially that which is found in nature, and bestows names upon the trees, the flowers, the trails, the lakes, and even the wind.


Yet for as much as Anne and Emily have in common, to many readers including myself, Emily is a more realistic and darker character. Both grow up with literary aspirations, but Emily is far more wedded to the craft than Anne. For Emily, her journals are her lifeline, without which she would be miserable. She regularly writes poems, stories, and essays, pushing herself to explore every genre from romance to crime. Moreover, we constantly read of the acceptances and rejections that Emily receives, as she climbs the alpine path of literary fame. Neither Anne or Emily easily fits in with peers, but eventually both garner respect. Here again though, the differences between Anne and Emily gradually become apparent. Anne learned to play the belle of the party, while Emily often instead paced her room in loneliness when estranged for whatever reason from her small circle of friends. So while I love how Anne could brighten up everyone’s life, I better identified with the less attractive and more morose Emily.


Perhaps for that reason, despite dyeing my hair red in college (which Anne would find ironic given how much she loathed her hair color), Emily influenced me far more than Anne. Emily kept “Jimmy” books and wrote poetry, among other literary ventures. “Jimmy” books were so named, not because they differed from regular notebooks, but because Emily’s cousin Jimmy would sneak them to Emily. The first time I labeled my journal a “Jimmy” book, my family teased me for liking a boy in my class with that name. While the practice of naming my journal was short-lived, I wrote my first poem after reading the Emily books and kept up the practice throughout my teens.

When best friend Isle quarreled with Emily, she’d swear and call Emily atrocious names. Emily would smile and stoically wait for Isle’s outbursts to end, because she knew this made Isle even madder. As for the reason Emily could smile, well, she knew that she wasn’t “a lousy lizard” or a “toothless viper”. Similarly, I enjoyed how confounding my best friend in college found me because I’d unblinkingly and calmly tell her why I wasn’t any of the names she’d throw at me when mad.


English: Lucy Maud Montgomery in a photograph ...

English: Lucy Maud Montgomery in a photograph believed to have been taken at the time she arrived in Halifax to work at the Echo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Shortly after college, I decided to stay home with my dad against the better wishes of relatives. No doubt unknown to anyone at the time, Emily’s influence was the reason. After much soul-searching, Emily declined an invitation to move to New York for a position with a magazine in favor of staying with her relatives on her beloved Prince Edward Island. So too I felt I belonged with my dad and in my home province of Newfoundland. Now Montgomery herself did eventually make a different decision than Emily for the sake of love—as did I, although like Montgomery I return to my home province on a regular basis.

One last story, before I move on to summaries of the Emily trilogy. And that is about the role that Emily played as matchmaker in my love life. One day Emily’s Great-Aunt Nancy wrote and asked for Emily to drop her a letter. Because she knew her guardians would read it, Emily felt paralyzed and didn’t make a good impression on Great-Aunt Nancy with her letter. In fact, Great-Aunt Nancy thought her stupid, but still she asked for a photo. This time, before Emily took the letter to the post office, she wrote a new one just for her aunt to see. Later that spring, Emily received an invitation to visit. Embarrassing as it is for me to admit, when I first enrolled in an online dating service I talked with family about what to write. (By the age of thirty, I had experienced much rejection and so felt insecure about my prospects with men.) Sadly, the end result was that the gentlemen I wrote were getting to know me only through other people’s eyes. Under the influence of Emily’s decision, I decided one day to be brave and write my own responses. Within a month, I began an intense correspondence with the guy who became my husband.


The majority of the above incidents happened in the first book: Emily of New Moon. Unlike Anne, Emily starts out by living with her dad. Within four chapters, however, Montgomery has orphaned her. Now Emily, who like Anne at first appearance seems eccentric, must adapt to life with the Murray clan. She must also find acceptance with her peers, which is less easy for her than Anne. The latter is introduced to Diana, who immediately becomes a bosom buddy, while Emily faces cruelty from teachers and peers alike. Miss Brownell punishes her for refusing to admit why she is crying at school, while her schoolmates not only tease her for wearing a baby apron and buttoned boots but also taunt her by giving her a box with a dead snake. Yet Emily doesn’t remain entirely friendless, for she soon becomes best friends with the heathen Isle, gets rescued from a bull by Perry who becomes the family’s hired hand, and catches the eye of Teddy who finds creative release with paint and canvas. Whenever I read Emily of New Moon, I am amazed at its delightful endlessness.


Montgomery repeats her magic with Emily Climbs and Emily’s Quest. In the former, Emily is offered the privilege of attending high school for three years. The honor comes however with a price. Emily is to give up writing, “except so far as school compositions might be concerned.” Anyone with a passion will readily understand how damning that request is. Cousin Jimmy suggests a compromise, that for those three years Emily write only what is true. My attempt to follow in Emily’s footsteps by writing only down facts proved to be as short-lived as the naming of my journals, but then my education came without conditions and so I had less incentive. Oh, Emily also had to board with her aunt, who kept accusing Emily of being sly. If she innocently turned a cloth on the living room sofa, opened a window, moved a portrait, shifted her bed to another corner, her aunt remained determined to figure out her “real” motives. As she matures, Emily’s friendships are tested. Isle is accused of playing a unforgiveable prank on her. The boys aren’t allowed to visit. Last, as in the first Emily book, there are references to the mystical world of fairies, druids, and elves, along with second sight. The latter crops up in Emily Climbs, when Emily is threatened in a church, calls out to Teddy for help, and is heard by him despite his living a mile away.


Of course, as all heroines of trilogies must, Emily plunges headlong into adulthood by the third book. In some ways, Emily’s Quest is the least satisfying, because Montgomery caved again to public pressure to marry off one of her leading women. And of course if one is to write about romance, one must throw in many obstacles, which often result in cliché and convoluted relationships such as shared between Isle and Perry. Case in point, Isle is about to marry Teddy when she receives news that Perry is hurt, and so immediately runs to his side. Readers might remember that Anne finally realizes she loves Gilbert only when he is on his death-bed. Yet to Montgomery’s credit, she made the road to love much more difficult for Emily than Anne. While Anne had simply fooled herself into thinking she could only love a handsome and dashing stranger, Emily always knew she loved Teddy. Unfortunately, his mother hated everyone and everything that threatened to limit her son’s love for her, to the point that she poisoned their pets and destroyed Teddy’s paintings. She also keeps a letter from Emily in which Teddy reveals his true love for Emily. Teddy’s mom is not the only character whose twisted soul reaps tragic consequences. With Teddy out of the picture, old friend Dean Priest need only betray Emily by telling her that her first novel is flimsy and incredulous to clear the path for her to love him. After Emily hears his condemnation of her work, she blindly rushes down the family’s stairs where she falls on one of her aunt’s mending baskets and is pierced by a pair of scissors. For months after her recovery, she gives up her literary aspirations. Eventually though, Emily does pick up the pen again; life must go on, whether in books or in the real world.


There are many ways in which Emily’s life differs from mine. For one, I can count my dating ventures on one hand. For another, my novels still remain tucked away in the basement. Yet inside we are very much alike, especially when it comes to our being creatures of moods and individuals who simply must write. It’s been a pleasure to reread the Emily books yet again. I hope to hear from some of you that it’s been a delight for you to discover them.

My rating? Read them: Carry them with you. Make them a top priority to read.

How would you rate these books?

Perhaps because my dad surrounded me with books as a child, I grew up wanting to be a writer. As such, I made up stories about characters from radio shows, responded to picture prompts from teachers with the longest stories in my class, and imagined stories about my dolls. When opportunities arose, I also entered essay and poetry contests for students, and contributed to our school newspaper. No doubt, it also helped that during my teens my dad enrolled in a creative writing course and encouraged me to take one too. Still, during my youth, I didn’t know anyone other than my dad who liked to write, and certainly didn’t know any published authors.

Books were my main source of inspiration and information. When my husband suggested that one way to review books from my childhood would be to compile round-ups, my first thought was to review the books that have most influenced me. Doing this would let me to share something of myself with you. With school upon me again, it also seemed like an appropriate time. Soon I will be talking with my students about writing and helping them compose their own works. Enjoy this round-up of beloved books from my childhood that encouraged me in my dream to become a writer.


“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.”

Everyone is no doubt familiar this opening line. It comes from the first book in this round-up: Little Women, the beloved classic of the four young March girls. Meet sixteen-year-old Meg, the plump and matronly oldest sister; Jo, the awkward and rambunctious tomboy; Amy, the spoiled and artistic blond; and Beth, the quiet and reserved youngest sister. With their father away at war, the girls grow up under the watchful eye of Marmee.

Despite the absence of their father, the family is close knit. The Marches sing together. They help the needy, even to the point of giving up their Christmas breakfast to help a starving family. Not being rich themselves, they produce their own plays and a family newspaper for entertainment. Under the moral direction of their mother, they also learn many life lessons. I embraced many of the principles myself such as refusing to let the sun go down on my anger.

Of course, the March family is not perfect, which is why we love them. Meg succumbs to vanity a party when she borrows a dress that is far too stiff with a train that is far too long. She also fears during dances that her earrings will fall off. Jo refuses to forgive her sister Amy for an act of vengeance, until a skating disaster reunites them. Amy receives the strap at school for ignoring a rule about candy. And Beth loses a beloved bird during a disastrous week when the girls experiment with idleness. Even the one who most often instills moral guidance, Mrs. March, admits that it’s taken her over forty years to only partially cure her anger.

While the entire family is creative, Jo is the writer amongst them. This is my main reason for liking her best. We’re both always reading. Jo also likes to receive books as presents. My dad gives me at least one book upon each special occasion. Jo is attracted most to homes where the owners have libraries, to the point that she visits her Aunt March solely because of her huge library and feels that the boy next door (Laurie) is rich less for his money and more for his library. To this day, I cannot easily walk past a library or bookstore. If I venture inside, my husband almost has to drag me out. Jo most typically cites examples from literature to prove her points. In high school, for a computer programming project, I created a lengthy literature quiz. The places I most desire to visit are literary (or nature) spots.

We also both regularly write! Jo writes plays and contributes news to the family newsletter. Growing up, I entered writing contests, wrote the longest stories in class, and kept a diary. As an adult, I wrote plays for my dad’s students to act out in their class assemblies and for a local animal shelter to use in their educational curriculum. I also create family newsletters. Jo loves sharing stories about what happens in her life. My husband often teases me after a lengthy explanation by quipping: “That was a lovely story.” Unlike Jo, others tend to correct my spoken grammar rather than the other way around.


“I’m ashamed of you.”

Julia’s mom says this to the main character Julia Redfern, in the second book in my round-up: A Room Made of Windows. On its heels is her brother’s admonition: “You’re a selfish kid. Why couldn’t you let her go and have some fun?”

Julia’s father died at war and her mom is dating again. On this particular night, fourteen-year-old Julia tells her mother off for not taking her to attend a play. Her mom explains that it’s a play for adults. Besides, no one had promised Julia that she could attend. Julia feels that is a lie. Moreover, she’d bragged about attending the play and will be embarrassed when her friends find out the truth.

When her mother and ‘That One’ (her despised boyfriend) leave, Julia escapes to her room to vent. She pours out her feelings in her Book of Strangeness, where she also compiles lists. Then she turns to her story. Julia’s so excited when she finishes that despite the late hour she heads out to mail it. Her best friend’s drunken father intercepts her, steals her envelope, and refuses to return it until neighbor Rhiannon Moore appears.

A Room Made of Windows contains lengthy chapters that are heavier on character development than action. In the first half of the book, Julia has met with an editor about her story, gone out with her family to celebrate her publication success, and lost her two cats. Otherwise, most of the other happenings amount to interactions between characters. These people include Julia’s family: her mom, her brother who’s a history addict, her grandparents with whom the family’s moved in, along with aunts and uncles. As for Julia’s friends, there is Addie and her dysfunctional family, Leslie who writes poetry, and Rhiannon who’s a retired pianist. There’s also her mother’s boyfriend: Phil.

Despite the book’s slow pace, I grew up loving it because of how I much identified with Julia. We’re both sensitive. When Phil reprimands her for standing too close to the edge of a balcony, Julia lashes out at him for trying to take on the role of a father. I become similarly defensive if reprimanded. When Addie’s grandmother orders her to stop playing their piano, Julia trudges instead of hustling off. If hurried, I tend to make impulsive decisions or to freeze like a deer in headlights. Julia is also passionate. When waiting to hear the fate of her submitted story, a “mingling of eagerness and anxiety would sharpen painfully in her stomach”. When her cats are missing, Julia felt “a sick, hollow ache in the place in her middle where she knew and felt all sad or disappointing or enraging or terrible things”.

Of course, the way I most identified with Julia is in her desire to become a writer. Julia loved words and kept lists of them. Growing up, I devoured both the dictionary and the thesaurus. Unlike Jo March, Julia and I often incorrectly use or invent words. For that reason, I relate to Julia’s sentiment: “It was always awful to have to use words you weren’t sure about, to have to use them in front of people and not just in your own head, and see everyone tickled inside themselves.” Julia also wrote stories and would think them out, down to the last detail, before going to bed. To my regret, this latter habit becomes less ingrained the older I become. Julia also influenced me in that for awhile I kept lists of words and strange events and tried turning dreams into stories. Even though my habits have changed here too, like Julia I do view writing as my special work. I intend to keep working on it and making grow. And I’m pretty sure that my feelings and pains will help me as a writer.


“Well, I’m going to be a writer. And when I say that’s a mountain, that’s a mountain.”

This line is from one of perhaps the most famous aspiring writers in juvenile fiction. Harriet M. Welsh is a spy who is also a writer. When readers first encounter her, Harriet is telling her friend Sport how to play Town: You make up and write down the names of people, make up what they do, and then write down their stories. If Harriet were real, I bet she’d play The Sims (a computer game that allows players to create families and control actions.)

“It won’t do you a bit of good to know anything if you don’t do anything with it.”

This advice comes from Ole Golly, who takes care of Harriet. The next time you hear a screaming kid, think of Harriet. One of the more controversial characters in children’s literature, she isn’t a particularly nice girl. Harriet runs through the house, slams doors, and yells at adults. She is opinionated, recording blunt facts about her neighbors but also ridiculing even her friends in her journals. She’s also rude. Once she interrupted a family dinner to scream: “I’ll be damned if I go to dancing school!” Harriet is no more of a role model than Greg Heffly of Diary of a Wimpy Kid fame, but remains as popular and as loved.

Shortly after readers are first introduced to Harriet, she starts sixth grade. Some of the book’s action occurs at school. Her class nominates an officer, whose job it is to monitor students when the teacher is out of the room and, for some reason, to also serve as the editor of the school paper. Her class votes on a suitable Christmas play and pick one about Christmas foods. Some action occurs on Harriet’s spy routes. She observes: Mrs. Agatha K Plumber who is a theatrical lady that refuses to leave bed, the Santi family who run a grocery store, Harrison Withers who owns twenty-five cats, and the Robinsons who never talk to each other. In the light of mostly absent parents, the most stabilizing forces in Harriet’s life are Ole Golly and her friends Sport, whose dad is a struggling writer, and Janie, who is an aspiring scientist who might build a bomb to blow up the world. In the second half of the book, Harriet’s life is turned upside down when she loses those stabilizing forces.

Except for the fact we were both only children, the dominant way I identify with Harriet is that she wants to be a writer. As with most authors, she loves books. Harriet also keeps a notebook and never goes anywhere without it. She uses it to take notes about people whom she watches so that she can remember them. She has fourteen notebooks. While I do keep a notebook, mine are more sporadic and objective. While I also do not have a route, and am not sure anyone should, I do like to sit in parks and stores to watch people. In my notebook, I describe how people look, but mostly have fun capturing conversations on paper. Harriet’s practice of keeping notes has inspired many an author.


Read my earlier review here.


Read my earlier review here.


“Emily didn’t know that was being pitied.”

This observation is made by Lucy Maud Montgomery in describing her favorite character of mine: Emily of New Moon. Emily lives with her father and caretaker Ellen Greene in a house in the hollow, which is situated in a grassy dale. Emily doesn’t much care for Ellen, but she loves her father.  She also has the company of her cats, the wind whom she calls Wind Woman, and the trees for whom she also has names. In the opening chapter, her father is sick. Once he drifts off to sleep, Emily slips away for a twilight walk.

“Do you know that your pa has only a week or two more to live?”

These words of Ellen greet Emily upon her return from her glorious walk. When her father awakes later, he berates Ellen for having revealed this truth to Emily in such a hurtful way.Then he shares memories with Emily of her mother and of the Murray clan.

When he dies, Ellen still doesn’t offer Emily comfort. She informs Emily that her relatives are coming to the house to decide who will raise her. Emily expresses the wish that her relatives will love her. Ellen denies her even this hope, calling Emily a strange child because she lives in her imagination as well as advising Emily that people don’t love strange children.

Upon their arrival, the relatives pick Emily apart in her presence, meaning they argue about who she looks and acts like down to whose forehead she has. Emily declares to their faces that they make her feel like “scraps and patches”. Her relatives order her to leave, but Emily hides under the table to hear her fate. When the relatives begin to criticize her father, Emily gives herself away by rushing out and yelling at them in her father’s defense. Tired of her outbursts, the relatives draw straws to determine who should take her. The rest of the book is about her life with the “winners”.

Although I love Anne of Green Gables, Emily of New Moon is my favorite creation of Lucy Maud Montgomery. Both girls are imaginative, outspoken, and passionate. Yet unlike Anne, Emily is more introverted with darker moods and less social grace. Perhaps for these reasons, Emily is often rejected for her differences, rather than embraced and loved like Anne. Therefore, I feel more akin to Emily.

How does Emily act like a writer? How am I like her? Although often forbidden access to them, Emily loves books. She’s also an imaginative child. In her mind, she transforms the ground into fairy kingdoms and the sky into palaces of the gods. Upon my most recent visit to my home province, my husband and I took treks through the hills and woods that I had explored as a child. I remembered how every spot had held adventure for me in my imagination. Emily needs to capture everything she sees and feels to paper. Sometimes I do, while other times I feel content to compose writings in my head. Emily keeps journals, writes letters, and composes poems. Although I grew up requesting diaries for presents and writing letters to pen pals, poetry only became a past time for me when I discovered the Emily series. I don’t know if anyone could stop Emily from writing, but she also loves to receive encouragement for it. I consider myself blessed that both my dad and now my husband have long been my biggest supporters in my goal to become a writer.


“It was in May 1918 that a new friend and companion came into my life.”

This statement refers to Rascal. It is the introduction by Sterling North to the memories of his childhood. In the first chapter of his fictional memoir, Sterling heads out with his dog Wowser and his best friend Oscar to the woods and across a creek. In the process of digging at a rotten stump, Wowser frightens a mother raccoon. Sterling takes one of the young that she leaves behind. Oscar’s mom shows the boys how to feed a raccoon.

Thus, begins the adventures of a boy and his raccoon. School is out, giving ample time for both to bond. In the midst of exposition about his family and ponderings about how God could have allowed his mom to die, Sterling shares how Rascal learns to eat and fend for himself without a mother. For example, Rascal figures out how to catch fish. Sterling describes how Rascal becomes part of their household. Rascal is even allowed to eat at the table, where Rascal is dumbfounded when a piece of sugar melts when he dips it into a bowl of milk. And Sterling explains how smart Rascal is. Rascal is quick to learn how to unbolt the front door, so that he can come and go at night.

The two head off to Indian Ford, which has a bridge with girders where boys would dare themselves to dive. It also had a secret fishing place. At the latter, after being pinched several times, Rascal catches and crushes the head of a crayfish. After Sterling also catches some fish by wading into the water, boy and raccoon share a soft drink. Rascal develops a fondness for strawberry but not the lemon sour.

Shortly after this adventure, one of Sterling’s older sisters comes to visit. She hires a housekeeper, makes home cooked meals, and orders Sterling to remove the canoe from the living room. By the way, raccoons were not the only animal Sterling had brought home. His sister was none too happy to also discover a crow that liked to shout in church and even some skunks. You might think her visit would have changed their life but, soon enough, Sterling’s sister returned to her home. Then Sterling resumes his fairly independent life, which is far from lonely or boring, because of the critters he brings home.

Rascal might seem like an odd choice to include in a round-up of books about authors. Indeed, the book and others like it probably far better inspired one of my many career ideas that didn’t pan out: that of being a naturalist. Yet there’s one scene which has stuck with me. When his aunt Lillie talks with Sterling about his career choices, she doesn’t think he should be a doctor. He is too tenderhearted. Instead she suggests that his Mother would have wanted him to write. “Then you could put it all down …. the way it is now … You could just keep it like this forever.” Although I aspire to be a novelist, I also create family newsletters and keep day journals, pet journals, and trip journals because I wish to keep a record of our family’s life as it is.

How about you? What was your dream job? Did books inspire your choice? If so, what ones and how? Aside from their encouraging me as a writer, all of the above books would also fall under my list of favorite novels to read. If you haven’t read some of them, borrow them and let me know what you think. If you have read them, what did you think of them? If you liked this round-up, add your ideas about what other themes you’d like me to explore. Then come back next week for another round-up, this time of books for young people on how to become a writer.

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