Impact: Anne of Green Gables

by L.M. Montgomery · Published 1908

Some books are gentle on the surface and ferociously durable underneath. Anne of Green Gables looks like a sweet story about a chatty orphan girl on a Canadian farm — and it is — but it has also outsold almost everything published in its era, anchored a tourism industry that still draws hundreds of thousands of visitors a year to a small island in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and convinced generation after generation of readers that an awkward, talkative, imaginative child is not a problem to be fixed but a person worth keeping.

It is, in short, a novel about belonging that refused to stop belonging to people.

The Woman Who Almost Threw It Away

Lucy Maud Montgomery — she went by Maud, no "e" — wrote Anne of Green Gables on Prince Edward Island, where she had spent much of her childhood raised by elderly grandparents after her mother died and her father moved west. That detail matters more than it might seem: the loneliness of a bright child in a quiet, adult, rule-bound household is not something Montgomery imagined from the outside. She knew the shape of it.

The famous origin story is that she found a note she had jotted down — an elderly couple applies to an orphanage for a boy to help on the farm, and a girl is sent by mistake — and built a book around it. Less famous is what happened next. The manuscript was rejected by multiple publishers. Discouraged, Montgomery reportedly put it away in a hatbox and left it there for the better part of a year before sending it out again. The book that would make her one of the best-selling authors of her generation came within a hatbox of never being submitted at all.

An Immediate, Improbable Hit

When the L.C. Page Company of Boston finally published the novel in 1908, it sold and kept selling. Edition followed edition within months. The book found readers far beyond the children it was nominally written for — and beyond Canada and the United States. It traveled.

The most striking measure of that reach is Japan. After the Second World War, a translation circulated widely, and Anne — known there as Akage no An, "Anne of the Red Hair" — became a national phenomenon that has never really faded. Japanese tourists still make the trip to Prince Edward Island specifically to see the red roads and the white-blossomed orchards the book describes. Few novels written for young readers have ever crossed cultures with that kind of staying power, and fewer still did it within their author's lifetime.

The Town Before the Girl

Here is something readers often forget: the most famous orphan in Canadian literature does not appear in the opening chapter of her own book. The novel begins instead with Mrs. Rachel Lynde, who lives "just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow," sitting at her kitchen window keeping what Montgomery calls "a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up."

This is a deliberate, sly move. Before we meet Anne, we meet the world she is going to land in — a place so devoted to order that, as Montgomery writes, "not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde's door without due regard for decency and decorum." Avonlea is a community where Matthew Cuthbert "had never been known to volunteer information about anything in his whole life," and where a shy man putting on a white collar and taking out the buggy is enough to spoil a neighbor's whole afternoon with curiosity. The comedy of the book's structure is that into this hushed, watchful, well-conducted little world is about to come a child who never stops talking.

What the Book Is Really About

On its surface Anne of Green Gables is a string of episodes — the dyed-green hair, the cordial mistaken for wine, the slate broken over Gilbert Blythe's head. It reads as a comedy of small-town scrapes. But underneath those incidents runs something steadier and more serious: a story about being wanted.

Anne is sent to Green Gables by accident; Matthew and Marilla asked for a boy. The central question of the early book is whether they will send her back, and the slow answer — that they will not, that a mistake can become a family — is the emotional engine that makes the slapstick land. Montgomery is also quietly arguing for a particular idea of childhood. Anne's imagination, her talkativeness, her habit of renaming ordinary places into things grander and more beautiful, are repeatedly treated by the adults around her as faults to be managed. The book disagrees with those adults. It insists that the imaginative child is not broken, and that the reserved, orderly grown-ups who take her in are the ones who get changed.

A Footprint Larger Than the Book

Montgomery wrote sequels — many of them, following Anne into adulthood, teaching, marriage, and motherhood — and the Avonlea world expanded into a small publishing universe. But the cultural footprint outgrew even that. There have been silent films, sound films, and stage musicals. The 1985 Canadian television miniseries became a defining touchstone for a generation of viewers, and a more recent series brought Anne to a global streaming audience that had never read a word of the novel.

And then there is the place itself. Prince Edward Island has effectively built part of its identity around a work of fiction. The farmhouse that inspired Green Gables is a national historic site. Visitors come for the landscape Montgomery rendered so lovingly in that first chapter — the orchard "in a bridal flush of pinky-white bloom," the steep red hill, the brook running down through the hollow. It is rare for a book to make a real place more visited; Anne did exactly that.

Why It Still Matters

It would be easy to file Anne of Green Gables under nostalgia — a cozy old book about a simpler time. But that undersells what Montgomery actually accomplished. She wrote a heroine who is loud in a culture that prized quiet, emotional in a culture that prized composure, and unashamed of wanting to be loved. More than a century later, that combination still reads as a kind of permission.

The book also holds up because Montgomery was a genuinely funny, precise writer. The opening pages alone — a brook too well-behaved to misbehave near Mrs. Rachel, a man so silent that wearing a clean collar counts as a scandal — show a comic eye every bit as sharp as the sentiment is warm. Read it now and you find not a quaint relic but a sturdy, witty, deeply humane novel about the moment a community of careful people decides to make room for someone who is anything but careful. That is why children still read it, and why the adults who hand it to them keep finding it has not aged the way they feared it might.

Founding Member

Premium Access

$1.99/month
  • Full Anne of Green Gables audiobook
  • Conversational AI Tutor — unlimited
  • Summaries, Analysis & Quizzes
  • Every chapter, beginning to end
Become a Founding Member

Future subscribers pay $4.99. Locked at $1.99 for life.

Further Reading & Resources

Source and editions

Encyclopedic

Community and discussion

Related Works in Our Library