By Desanka Vukelich, For the Love of Words
Published: September 28, 2011
I credit my mother and her dedication to reading for planting the seed that grew into my love of books. From babyhood, she read to me and my siblings, introducing us to a myriad of fables and stories and fairytales. One of the first books she gave me to read on my own was L M Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. I have read this series countless times from childhood to adulthood and as familiar as I am with the tapestry of stories woven by the author’s richly imaginative mind, each time I read it over, I discover a new quirk, a delightful charm that had somehow passed unnoticed the previous reading. She always makes it so worthwhile to repeat the experience of reading her words: falling in love with Gilbert anew, feeling Anne’s anger and pain, hurting over the sadnesses, sobbing over the joys, all as if it were for the first time.