I know I’ve said it many times, but it is a pleasure to re-read these books, especially knowing several of you are reading along. For those of you who have sent emails or Tweets about your readings, thank you. I love the way this has become a discussion outside of what’s going on here.
Before I forget, you’ve got to click through to this fabulous overview by a fellow LMM fan. It is above and beyond anything I could create. The Sheila Variations: Volume II
This post won’t be a rundown of Maud’s life during these years so much as my thoughts on a handful of things. Here goes:
Marriage
I’m not quite sure what to make of Ewan and Maud’s relationship. This is something Jamie and I have exchanged emails over, and I’m curious what other readers think. Just before her marriage she admits she doesn’t truly love him; there is no happiness at the thought of her future with Ewan. She writes on occasion (before and well into her marriage) of her once passionate love for Herman Leard and never claims to have felt this way for anyone else. And yet both Ewan and Maud are fond of each other. When Ewan’s mental illness (religious melancholia) becomes evident after almost a decade of marriage, there is a tender scene when they are reunited after weeks apart. Toward the end of Volume II, Ewan tells her she’s “the dearest little wife in the world.” It’s clear they care for each other…and yet.
Illness and and Public Nature of the Pastorate
As we discussed during Volume I, Maud lived two lives: an early love of intellectual pursuits, literature, and nature made her feel separate from her family and peers. When she started to feel emotional and mental turmoil (first in her engagement to Edwin Simpson and later in those isolating years caring for her grandmother), she continued with a brave front, never letting in anyone know her fully (though her cousin and best friend, Frede, who died of Spanish influenza in 1919 certainly knew her best).
Here’s what Maud had to say as she watched Ewan’s illness unfold:
I was absolutely alone in my despair. I was never in all my life so wretchedly unhappy as I was in those awful days when I went about trying to work and plan and smile with that fear that was not to be mentioned hanging over me.
While clearly something was wrong, she only spoke of his condition as a physical ailment. (There were certainly headaches that accompanied attacks. For a time doctors also looked into a connection to the kidneys!) What strikes me, as a pastor’s wife living in the twenty-first century, was how deeply sad this all was. With his condition being connected to his faith (Ewan believed in these times of attack that he was damned and could do nothing to change this), I understand the reason to hide his “flaw” from the people he served, especially in an era when mental illness was seen as a stigma and weakness. Add to that the small-mindedness of the people in their community (Maud’s interpretation), and I get fully get it. But what a cost they both paid!
I’m also pretty much knocked off my feet when I see all that was expected of her as pastor’s wife. No wonder she said, “Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they make minister’s wives.”
Motherhood
I am indeed a most happy and thankful woman. Motherhood is heaven. It pays for all.
I loved reading about Maud’s interactions with her boys, Chester and Stuart, though her observations were bittersweet, knowing that toward the end of her life her relationship with Chester was a terrible one. And Little Hugh, the boy she lost between Chester and Stuart — I don’t know how she survived such an ordeal.
Writing
Maud was involved in two lawsuits with her first publisher, Page and Company, first over her decision to leave Page and second over the book FURTHER CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA, a collection of short stories Page published without her permission.
As for the books she was working on at this time, she said ANNE’S HOUSE OF DREAMS “is the best book I have ever written not even excepting Green Gables or my own favorite “The Story Girl.”
As for the books she was working on at this time, she said ANNE’S HOUSE OF DREAMS “is the best book I have ever written not even excepting Green Gables or my own favorite “The Story Girl.”
Toward the end of the journal, Maud’s done with Anne and her children; she has no interest in writing more about their lives. But we haven’t yet seen (my least favorite Anne book) ANNE OF WINDY POPLARS. Around this time Maud began to develop Emily Starr, my favorite of her characters (…and the LMM the books I’ll be re-reading next!).
What are your thoughts and impressions from your Volume II read?
I’m very grateful for our email conversations about the journals, too. Little did Maud know how she’d be bringing people together a century later!
Marriage… Well, I can say that her reflections made me very grateful for my own marriage, but it saddened me that she thought a marriage that encompassed both passion and deep friendship almost impossible. I can’t help feeling that she “sold herself short”, though at least she and Ewan were able to maintain a level of affection and respect for each other through the years–you know she would have withered without that. Still, I’m grateful that she portrayed the “ideal” in her books, even if she barely believed in it, because I can’t say how much it influenced me as a teen to avoid anything to do with guys who didn’t live up to the Gilbert Blythe or Hilary Gordon standard–it saved me a lot of heartbreak, I’m sure.
Motherhood… loved reading her reflections on this! But, oh, the pregnancies she had to go through, hiding even the slightest sign of morning sickness! (And I wish she’d had modern nursing tops to spare her the trouble of those button-up-the-back dresses while breastfeeding. 🙂 Oh, not to mention antibiotics!
Writing… I personally think Anne’s House of Dreams is one of her best, too. But probably not to be compared with Emily! (Emily is my favorite character, too, although my favorite book is The Blue Castle.) On a less specific note, I was stunned and inspired by Maud’s dedication to her writing even when everything in life was falling apart. I always SAY that the best way to deal with trouble in the world is to create good art–but I have a harder time putting that into action sometimes.
I’ve been so grateful for our discussions, too!
So interesting, Faith, what you have to say about LMM’s romantic characters (what she lived vs. what she created). You’re the second person to tell me they love Hilary Gordon (the first being author Marissa Burt, who I think loves Hilary more than Gilbert). Maybe I should re-read the Pat books? All I truly remember from those books was Pat doing a lot of fretting. She reminded me somewhat of our own LMM.
Motherhood – yes! Those dresses! How could you ever leave the house and expect to feed your baby?
I wonder about what was behind her drive to create. I don’t remember the journals mentioning this specifically, but I wonder if she was on a schedule with her publisher(s) to produce every other year. It’s the schedule she certainly kept. And deadlines can be great muses. 🙂 Of course, writing is a great escape, and I know there were times it allowed her to get away. I know there were other times it was a burden, as any job can sometimes be.
Still one of my favorite “stories” from this journal is when Maud is cleaning the chimney and a woman pays her a visit. There the author sits in her parlor, covered in soot, entertaining this passerby!
I loved the Pat stories because they reminded me very much of my best friend; I didn’t see myself in her very much, but I wanted to be her friend! But Hilary…I have to admit I love him a little more than Gilbert, too. He is infinitely patient, always unselfish, and has a tragic past that he overcame. (What is it about the tragic pasts? 😉 Also, he’s an artist (architect), which I always found appealing. Gilbert is wonderful–but we don’t see much of his “dark” side; and then there’s wonderful Teddy, who would just be too tempestuous for me to be happy with. 🙂
I love the chimney story, too. I found myself thinking through half the book, “My goodness, Maud is a much better housekeeper than I’ll ever be!” Which is true. But the way she really pulled it off was with that amazing confidence and calm!
Finally….oh, I need a deadline.
She loved housekeeping, something we’ll never share in common!
Oh, so much I gleaned from this volume. As usual, I am struck by my kindredness to her as well as those things that are nearly opposite. On the kindred side: Her greatest fear was cancer. Mine always was as well, only I have had what I would almost call the benefit of having survived it so that I know it is survive-able! Both physically and emotionally. My heart breaks over her unhappiness – she really seems to think of herself as more of a sufferer in life than not. I also feel sorry that she didn’t seem to have a more vibrant personal relationship with God. I’m wondering if that just really wasn’t in fashion then. Maybe it’s a 70s thing. 🙂 But I feel like she would have suffered less if she considered her faith more of a friend than a mere reasoning of things.
Another thing that glared at me and wouldn’t let me ignore it? I really can’t say that I am that much busier than she was. I may have a day job, but she had to work much harder at keeping the house going and meals on the table than I do. And yet, she wrote so diligently. I am convinced I need to get my butt in the chair and write for goodness sake.
I just adore seeing the process behind the scenes of all these books I love. When she gives us glimpses about how far along she is in them, I feel so thrilled I’m almost anxious! What if she hadn’t finished it?! What if the publishers had made her change the things I love so much today?!
And do you notice all the little moments that end up almost verbatim in her stories? An example from June 28, 1914 – this paragraph ends up in a letter from Philippa Gordon in Anne of the Island: I said it looked a little like rain – and Lizzy Oxtoby laughed. I said the path along the race was very pretty – and Lizzie Oxtoby laughed. I said there still seemed to be plenty of mosquitoes – and Lizzie Oxtoby laughed. If I were to say to Lizzie Oxtoby “My father has hanged himself, my husband has gone out of his mind, my children have been burned to death and I am suffering from an incurable cancer” – Lizzie Oxtoby would laugh. She can’t help it – she was born so – but it is very awful!
Things I look forward to in the next volumes (though not necessarily look forward to as happy things): Whatever happens to her husband and how long does she outlive him? WHAT in the world convinces her to write more Anne when she seems so against it? And I know the last two written Anne books are everyone’s least favorites. But they’re still so ANNE, and I’m amazed that she was able to find her again after all those years and all that burnout. Also: does she ever mention any other Annes on film and was she ever consulted on any of it? I can’t WAIT to watch Emily come alive. I thrilled to my toes just to see her mentioned in this one. I’m so sorry to hear about Chester. 🙁 I did not know that about their relationship. I guess I will find out though. Most of all: Oh, Maud. Why couldn’t you find more comfort in life? I can’t stand it that she might have ended it herself.
Serenity, do you know Faith? I think you two would enjoy each other.
Faith and I have exchanged emails about Maud’s faith, wondering about some of the same things you mentioned. By the end of volume II, she has several unorthodox views (no heaven or hell, God isn’t omnipotent), and there will be more. I know it’s hard not to define God on our own terms, and I know WWI shaped a lot of what she ended up believing, but I wish as you do, that she’d have found true comfort and rest in the gospel.
I remember first reading this volume while in the hospital with my second son. I’d lost a little boy to miscarriage between my two boys, and reading of her Little Hugh, knowing she carried him full term, it was just awful. I’d also just finished my second novel manuscript and was sure with a new baby writing would have to be set aside for a few years. But this book and Betsy Lerner’s THE FOREST FOR THE TREES convinced me it was possible to still make time for writing. I credit both in my pushing on.
I know you can and will push on in your writing, too. xo
Those verbatim moments! The journals truly were fodder for her books. I remember being so enthralled with Emily’s ten-year letter. And Maud wrote those all the time as a girl.
What convinces her to write more Anne? Her publishers. There was demand. Period. It’s interesting to see both Pat and Emily remain in the age range she feels she can write well: young girlhood and young womanhood.
No, I don’t know Faith. But I love her name. 🙂 Is she on twitter? I hope I push on. I hope I find the stories I’m supposed to tell!
If you happen to see this, nice to “meet” you, Serenity! I love your name, too. 🙂 I am on Twitter (@FaithHough42) but I haven’t actually figured it out yet, so you won’t see many tweets from me!
This is sooo amazing to read. I’ve really enjoyed these posts, too. I didn’t know you’d lost a baby, Caroline, I’m so sorry. I have, too, my last one, and wasn’t able to have anymore due to complications I didn’t know about until after several years of infertility.
Anyway, I just had to write and say how much I can relate to Maude’s husband feeling like his illness/depression was due to God’s *punishment*. This is exactly what my son has felt about his stomach illness of the last year. He has agonized so many times thinking that he’s sinned or done something wrong in God’s eyes that’s causing him such pain, which also just makes his depression worse (I think it’s part of his Asperger characteristics). And he’s wept trying to repent and yet he’s still ill, and may be somewhat for the rest of his life. He and I have talked about this repeatedly. It’s a hard thing when you feel *cursed* and you don’t know why. I truly cannot imagine dealing with this at a time when there was so little understanding of mental illnesses and no meds or therapy.
Oh, Kim, I’m so sorry for your boy. What an extra, unwanted burden for him to carry in the midst of this illness. Much love to you and your family as you navigate this all together.
One of the most important things I’ve ever done was sit on a panel at Ft. Belvoir hospital (VA) and talk to nurses and doctors about caring for women who’d lost children. One woman had had a still birth. One woman lost a baby after he was six weeks old. I was the one who’d had a miscarriage. There’s a bond between women who have lost babies at any stage — not one you’d seek out, but a bond, and it’s so good to find those people and feel understood.
I’m only three-quarters of the way through this volume, but I’m so loving it! I am always amazed at how personable she feels on the page – and how her journals are nearly as interesting (and in some places, moreso) to read as her novels.
I, too, find her marriage very curious. Just the other day I read the bit where she says she’s never been in love with Ewan but is very well content with her marriage. I wonder how much her ideals would have been shaped by romanticism and the Victorian ideal of love. I have a hard time getting a full picture of Ewan from her entries.
Have I raved over Hilary Gordon? I suppose I do favor him more than the others. I have no patience for Teddy, that’s for sure. I think my favorite might be the hero in The Blue Castle. I do think one of LMM’s weakest spots is her ability to flesh out male characters. Even Gilbert always seems a bit of a pale shadow to Anne. It seems that she often had to have her heroes disappear for quite some time so the heroine could really have full stage, something that I think rather reflects the limits on a woman’s life at the time. I think the one success with a male character she might have had was the boy in Flowers for Marigold? It’s been a while, but I seem to remember that seemed more authentic. I also liked the way she wrote boys in The Story Girl books. It seems that young boys she can hit remarkably well but the men seem distant and remote, caricatures even.
I’ve also been struck by how fragile life was in that time period. It’s highlighted for sure in her trepidation over motherhood but also in how quickly young friends could get very ill and then die unexpectedly. Added to that, the horror of the First World War and I don’t wonder that everyone was struggling with depression and anxiety. I do find her own “nervous” struggles a consolation when I’m having a difficult time.
I remember being struck by the oddity of Ewan’s illness the first read through and since then I’ve learned more about OCD and see that it has the classic progression of obsessive thinking. How awful to be plagued to such a degree and to have it kept completely hidden. That seems so difficult – how divided their public and private life had to be! I wonder, though, if, as she mentions in one of the introductions to a volume, the person she presents on the pages is skewed. She obviously used her journals as an outlet, so I wonder if we don’t get a very intense portrayal of inner angst that might not have been constantly plaguing her.
Much more to say, but I might check back in after I’ve finished. Thanks, Caroline!
I’m only three-quarters of the way through this volume, but I’m so loving it! I am always amazed at how personable she feels on the page – and how her journals are nearly as interesting (and in some places, moreso) to read as her novels.
I, too, find her marriage very curious. Just the other day I read the bit where she says she’s never been in love with Ewan but is very well content with her marriage. I wonder how much her ideals would have been shaped by romanticism and the Victorian ideal of love. I have a hard time getting a full picture of Ewan from her entries.
Have I raved over Hilary Gordon? I suppose I do favor him more than the others. I have no patience for Teddy, that’s for sure. I think my favorite might be the hero in The Blue Castle. I do think one of LMM’s weakest spots is her ability to flesh out male characters. Even Gilbert always seems a bit of a pale shadow to Anne. It seems that she often had to have her heroes disappear for quite some time so the heroine could really have full stage, something that I think rather reflects the limits on a woman’s life at the time. I think the one success with a male character she might have had was the boy in Flowers for Marigold? It’s been a while, but I seem to remember that seemed more authentic. I also liked the way she wrote boys in The Story Girl books. It seems that young boys she can hit remarkably well but the men seem distant and remote, caricatures even.
I’ve also been struck by how fragile life was in that time period. It’s highlighted for sure in her trepidation over motherhood but also in how quickly young friends could get very ill and then die unexpectedly. Added to that, the horror of the First World War and I don’t wonder that everyone was struggling with depression and anxiety. I do find her own “nervous” struggles a consolation when I’m having a difficult time.
I remember being struck by the oddity of Ewan’s illness the first read through and since then I’ve learned more about OCD and see that it has the classic progression of obsessive thinking. How awful to be plagued to such a degree and to have it kept completely hidden. That seems so difficult – how divided their public and private life had to be! I wonder, though, if, as she mentions in one of the introductions to a volume, the person she presents on the pages is skewed. She obviously used her journals as an outlet, so I wonder if we don’t get a very intense portrayal of inner angst that might not have been constantly plaguing her.
Much more to say, but I might check back in after I’ve finished. Thanks, Caroline!
P.S. I love the Pat books because of the strong idea of HOME in each of them. In fact, I think that rootedness of place – the setting – is probably the central thing I love about all of LMM’s work. Of course, the characters are wonderful and plots funny and dialogue witty, but the way that all combines to a sense of rootedness and place wins me every time. I think however much Pat was a homebody, I liked that she saw and valued HOME. I see that in LMM, too, and her almost morbid fascination with the past.
I agree about Hilary and LMM men in general, Marissa! I think, even though he disappeared once he grew up like they all seemed to, Hilary was so well-developed when he was young that we had a better feel for him.
And you hit the nail on the head about the Pat books and their sense of home. I moved ten times as a kid, so I loved the sense of security and steadiness, and understood Pat’s desire to have nothing change.
P.S. I love the Pat books because of the strong idea of HOME in each of them. In fact, I think that rootedness of place – the setting – is probably the central thing I love about all of LMM’s work. Of course, the characters are wonderful and plots funny and dialogue witty, but the way that all combines to a sense of rootedness and place wins me every time. I think however much Pat was a homebody, I liked that she saw and valued HOME. I see that in LMM, too, and her almost morbid fascination with the past.
This looks like a fabulous reading group idea, Caroline. I doubt I can read the journal vol 3 this month but will try as I am so interested in this idea. Thanks for sharing. Saw that your May B. book is up for a NY State Reading Association Charlotte Award…….did you know? If not, go to google and find it, the web address is something like nyreading.org I am looking forward to reading it!!
Janet F.
Poetry on Parade
It has been wonderful! If you’re interested in participating, the beauty of the read along is you can read at your own pace. The posts will be here, whether you start now, dabble a little, or read them all later.
It’s a huge honor to be included on this year’s Charlotte Award list. In the next few days, I’ll be posting some interview questions from some NY school children.