Adventures by the Fireside

I saw something interesting on the internet once.  Actually, I've seen it a lot.  It has many different forms, but they all look pretty much like this:

The main point that they all express is a longing to visit the worlds of various books.  They are disappointed that they didn't discover Narnia, that they never got Hogwarts acceptance letters, that satyrs didn't take them to Camp Half-Blood, and some even that they didn't end up in the Hunger Games (I don't really understand this one--who wants to fight other teenagers to death?).  They all count on Gandalf to take them on adventures when they're 50.  


These are expressions of people who, if you asked them, would say they love the stories these wishes come from.  However, if they think they haven't gone on any of these adventures, they don't really understand the things they claim to love.  I pity them.  You see, I discovered Narnia long ago, and have visited it times innumerable since then.  I have been to Hogwarts and Camp Half-Blood.  I have wandered Prince Edward Island in the company of Anne Shirley, and I have traveled to the Magical Land of Oz.  I have been "There and Back Again" with Bilbo and the dwarves, and I have even journeyed with the Nine Companions in their quest to destroy the Ring of Power.  I have gone on these and countless other adventures, all the while sitting in the comfort of my own home.  Every time I read these book, I revisit those places and adventures.  Even though the books remain the same, they never grow old or boring, because I have changed since I last visited.  Paraphrasing Heraclitus, I like to say that no book is read twice by the same man.  With each new reading, I see the story more clearly and experience it more vividly.  That is why if you look at my book log, you will see that I have read most books at least twice, and that I have read some, such as The Lord of the Rings,by J.R.R. Tolkien, or Waking Rose, by Regina Doman over 15 times (LotR is probably closer to 30).  The characters I love to read about are not flat and one-dimensional to me; rather, they are friends, almost as real to me as my friends, and more real that people I don't know.  I don't need to imagine what it would be like to go to their land and meet them, because I already have, scores of times.  

So, if the people who agree with these sort of ideas and make pins of them 
have not gone on these adventures and become friends with these people, I have two things to say to them:

1) I am so, so sorry that you haven't yet . . .

2) But, don't be sad, because you CAN go on the adventures you desire, and you CAN meet your book friends.  Now stop reading this and go visit them! :) 

"Living Epistles"

Today I was looking at Anne of Green Gables pins on Pinterest, because that’s the sort of geeky thing I like to do.  One link led to another, and I ended up reading the comments on an article, which is generally not a very good idea, since most are often ignorant and/or stupid.  However, this time it turned out well, because now I have something to write about!  I don’t remember what the actual article was about, but I remember the comment.  It was a woman complaining that in the first books of the Anne series, there are feminist ideals, and Anne seems to have a career.  She was lamenting the fact that in the later books, Anne’s career fades away and she seems stuck “doing her duty” taking care of her children.  She seems to imply that Anne would have been happier if she could have just stuck to her career and not have to be burdened by taking care of children.

 I agree with this anonymous commenter that Anne’s focus does shift from writing to children part way through the series.  However, I do not agree that this change of focus is sad or is unwanted by Anne.  Although Anne’s desire to write is prior in time to her desire to be a wife and mother, it is the latter which truly makes her happy and which is her true vocation.  This is clear in the books dealing with Anne’s life after her marriage, but particularly in Anne of Ingleside.  Throughout the book, Anne is continuously thinking about how much she loves her children and how she delights in taking care of them.  Not that she is always perfectly, unnaturally happy—the last chapter where Anne thinks Gilbert no longer cares for her shows that even the happiest of people have bad times and gives the whole book a more realistic quality. 

  In light of the reality present in the books, the commenter’s remark seems pretty ridiculous, but it is, unfortunately, indicative of the mindset of our times.  Modern generations seem to have lost a few very important ideas: that vocations exist, that women chose to be wives and mothers, and that doing so is not being repressed.  With these concepts forgotten, purposely or otherwise, it is no wonder that this woman was disappointed in Anne in the later books.  But I pity her, not being able to see of understand the beauty I see and understand in Anne’s joy in her “living epistles,” as she calls her children once, and in living her vocation to the fullest.