I feel as if I have lived an entire lifetime with Lucy Maud Montgomery's Anne Shirley – excuse me, Mrs. Anne Blythe.

We grew up from the ragged little orphan girl with a full and open heart to the young woman studying her nights away at Patty’s Place to the fresh-faced mistress of the House of Dreams.

Now she listens to the little fears and delights of her own “small fry” at Ingleside.

To think that the little girl with only an old suitcase and a head of dreams came to live in such a huge house with all those adoring children with little dreamy heads of their own!

I almost feel as old as Anne in Rainbow Valley. But, of course, no one can change that fast. Somehow books have a way of aging us up (or down).

Have you read Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights?

While reading that book, I felt that I aged at least a few generations along with the characters, but the satisfying feeling of accumulated wisdom was certainly worth it.

Where else would we have the chance to experience generations of lives in that detail and intensity?

What books have you read that aged you either up or down (or caught you right in the comfortable middle)? Tell me about them in the comments below.

 


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