Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne’s long red braid, held it out at arm’s length and said in a piercing whisper:
Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance! She did more than look. She sprang to her feet, her bright fancies fallen into cureless ruin. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry tears.
“You mean, hateful boy!” she exclaimed passionately. “How dare you!”
And then thwack! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert’s head and cracked it slate not head clear across.
Avonlea school always enjoyed a scene. This was an especially enjoyable one. Everybody said “Oh” in horrified delight. Diana gasped. Ruby Gillis, who was inclined to be hysterical, began to Cry.
(Montgomery, L. M. Anne of Green Gables. Chapter XV, “A Tempest in the School Teapot.”)
This iconic scene in which Anne Shirley smashes her slate over Gilbert Blythe’s head is burned into the minds of Anne fans everywhere. I love Anne, and I’m attached to the books—just not in quite the same way as I’m attached to other books or other authors.
However, I was interested and delighted to see a call for submissions to the summer edition of Eastern Iowa Review: All Things Anne.
For Anne fans everywhere, this is your chance to indulge in fan fiction, poetry, nonfiction, or anything else related to Anne. You will have to visit the site for more details, but you have until September 30 to submit.
I’ve never written fan fiction, but I’ve thought about it. If I were to write about Anne, I might do something like Anne and robots, or Anne of Green Gables on Mars. But I probably won’t—maybe—I don’t know.
I’ve visited Prince Edward Island many times—it’s a lovely, picturesque place, full of friendly, interesting people. And I can’t overstate the friendliness of PEI. People there go far out of their way to help me when I visit. I once had a guy abandon his lunch and car—keys in the ignition and music playing—to walk me more than a block to the bank. He even came inside to make sure I found the ATM.
Last time I visited, one of the hotel staff walked me several blocks to the place where I caught the Hippo, an amphibious vehicle that tours downtown Charlottetown and the Charlottetown harbour. The only other time I encountered someone from a hotel who was that helpful was in Portland, Oregon, another fabulous place to visit.
So if I were to write about Anne, I might write about how the island itself has become a place of pilgrimage for Anne fans, of how you can visit those places Lucy Maud lived as a child and woman before her marriage that took her away to Ontario; or of how the people of the island have something of a love/hate relationship with Anne Shirley, as she has become inextricably part of the island economy. Regardless of what I do or don’t do, such a call is an excuse to revisit the books once again and think about Anne Shirley and the island with the generous heart.