1.For Any Girl with a Scope of Imagination~, February 12, 2002
Reviewer: Sandra Mitchell "Sandra Mitchell" (Chicago, IL United States)
I have wanted to read Anne of Green Gables for so long and finally did. Why did I wait?? I wish I would have read this book years ago. This is one of the best books I have ever read. Whether you are a child or adult you won't be able to help falling in love with Anne of Green Gables. This young Orphan is mistakenly sent to the home of brother and sister Matthew and Marilla. What they wanted was a boy to help around the house as they were getting older. What they got was a delightful little girl who warmed their hearts and touched their souls. Anne gets into all kinds of hijinks throughout the novel that will make you laugh with her and cry with her. Her imagination is unmatched. She is so insightful that you will find it impossible not to relate to her. Follow Anne through her escapades of learning what it is like to be wanted and loved by parents, finding her place in a strange school, and finally getting to have a bosom buddy..someone she can truly call a friend and share life's ups and downs with. As Anne sets one ambition after another for herself, you'll be cheering for her success. This would be a great book to read on your own or along with a child. When you're finished, Anne will feel like your own personal bosum buddy. This book is one you'll adore long after it's over.
2.A Wonderful Book, November 7, 1999
Reviewer: Lesley West (St James, Western Australia)
I have just finished reading this book aloud to my 8 year old (who is well capable of reading it herself) so that we could enjoy the book together. What can I say? It is one of the most delightful books in the world, meant to be shared and cherished, and above all remembered and recommended to others. If you have a little girl in your life, introduce her to this book. She will always thank you.
1.This book is full of laughter, lessons and hope., October 23, 2006
A Kid's Review
Anne of Green Gables is a book that inspired me greatly. The characters, the story line and the obstacles that the characters overcame were very influential to me. Anne of Green Gables was written by L.M. (Lucy Maud), Montgomery. It is a story of a simple orphan girl, named Anne Shirley who had been from family to family and felt as if nobody wanted her. It starts out telling how an elderly man and his sister planned to adopt a boy but by fate received the little orphan girl, Anne. I loved this book because I loved listening to the adventures and life lessons Anne went through. This book taught good moral lessons that every child should learn.
2.Spotlight: "For Any Girl..."; Me: "For Any One...", July 3, 2006
Reviewer: Tyler C. Powell
I'm a guy, 29 years old, who has just read Anne of Green Gables for the first time (at the behest of my fiancee).
It is a wonderful book.
You do not have to be a young female to enjoy the adventures of one. Anne Shirley is a delight of a character. She's brave and intelligent and so very earnest. It is a treat to read about her coming to live at Green Gables and the relationships she develops there. There's real depth in some of the characters, especially Anne's guardian, Marilla, who remembers, if only faintly, what it was like to be young and passionate, and is drawn irresistably to that in Anne and rejuvenated by it.
This and Tom Sawyer are the two great works about childhood in my experience. Yes--children would love to read, or be read, either of them. However, adults can get much out of reading them, too, and things that will not be available to the younger set. These books are both about children from an adult's perspective (neither Twain nor Montgomery were 9) and so an adult's perspective can assist in a reading of them, too. And, finally, while I'm certain that women are able to relate to being a girl on a different level than men can, we're all able to relate to the main virtues of an Anne Shirley and the beauty of childhood that she embodies.
Unlike the title of the current Spotlight Review, this is not just for any girl, but for any*one* with a scope of imagination.
Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde's Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.
There are plenty of people, in Avonlea and out of it, who can attend closely to their neighbors business by dint of neglecting their own; but Mrs. Rachel Lynde was one of those capable creatures who can manage their own concerns and those of other folks into the bargain. She was a notable housewife; her work was always done and well done; she "ran" the Sewing Circle, helped run the Sunday-school, and was the strongest prop of the, Church Aid Society and Foreign Missions Auxiliary. Yet with all this Mrs. Rachel found abundant time to sit for hours at her kitchen window, knitting "cotton warp" quilts--she had, knitted sixteen of them, as Avonlea housekeepers were wont to tell in awed voices-and keeping a sharp eye on the main road that crossed the hollow and wound up the steep red hill beyond. Since Avonlea occupied a little triangular peninsula jutting out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with water on two sides of it, anybody who went out of it or into it had to pass over that hill road and so run the unseen gauntlet of Mrs. Rachel's all-seeing eye.
She was sitting there one afternoon in early June. The sun was coming in at the window warm and bright; the orchard on the slope below the house was in a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom, hummed over by a myriad of bees. Thomas Lynde-a meek little man whom Avonlea people called "Rachel Lynde's husband"-was sowing his late turnip seed on the hill field beyond the barn; and Matthew Cuthbert ought to have been sowing his on the big red brook field away over by Green Gables. Mrs. Rachel knew that he ought because she had heard him tell Peter Morrison the evening before in William J. Blaire's store over at Carmody that he meant to sow his turnip seed the next afternoon. Peter had asked him, of course, for Matthew Cuthbert had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life.
And yet here was Matthew Cuthbert, at half-past three on the afternoon of a busy day, placidly driving over the hollow and up the hill; moreover, he wore a white collar and his best suit of clothes, which was plain proof that he was going out of Avonlea; and he had the buggy and the sorrel mare, which betokened that he was going a considerable distance. Now, where was Matthew Cuthbert going and why was he going there?
Had it been any other man in Avonlea Mrs. Rachel, deftly putting this and that together, might have given a pretty good guess as to both questions. But Matthew so rarely went from home that it must be something pressing and unusual which was taking him; he was the shyest man alive and hated to have to go among strangers or to any place where he might have to talk. Matthew, dressed up with a white collar and driving in a buggy, was something that didn't happen often. Mrs. Rachel, ponder as she might, could make nothing of it and her afternoo's enjoyment was spoiled.
"I'll just step over to Green Gables after tea and find out from Marilla where he's gone and why," the worthy woman finally concluded. "He doesn't generally go to town this time of year and he new visits; if he'd run out of turnip seed he wouldn't dress up and take the buggy to go for more; he wasn't driving fast enough to be going for the doctor. Yet something must have happened since List night to start him off. I'm clean puzzled, that's what, and I won't know a minute's peace of mind or conscience until I know what has taken Matthew Cuthbert out of Avonlea today-"
Accordingly after tea Mrs. Rachel set out; she had not far to go; the big, rambling orchard-embowered house where the Cuthberts lived was a scant quarter of a mile up the road from Lynde's Hollow. To be sure, the long lane made it a good deal further. Matthew Cuthberfs father, as shy and silent as his son after him, had got as far away as he possibly could from his fellow men without actually retreating into the woods when he founded his homestead. Green Gables was built at the furthest edge of his cleared land and there it was to this day, barely visible from the main road along which all the other Avonlea houses were so sociably situated. Mrs. Rachel Lynde did not call living in such a place living at all.
1. It's just staying, that's what," she said as she stepped along the deep-rutted, grassy lane bordered with wild rose bushes. "Ifs no wonder Matthew and Marilia are both a little odd, living away back here by themselves. Trees aren't much company, though dear knows if they were there'd be enough of them. I'd ruther look at people. To be sure, they seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they're used to it. A body can get used to anything even to being hanged, as the Irishman said."From the Paperback edition.