Author: L. M. Montgomery
Genre: Children’s Literature / Classic Fiction
Published: 1908
Rating: ★★★★☆ – 4/5
“Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”
Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery is one of those rare books that feels both timeless and deeply personal. It’s the story of Anne Shirley, an imaginative, fiery-haired orphan mistakenly sent to live with Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert—two aging siblings on Prince Edward Island who had requested a boy to help with farm work. Instead, they get Anne, a girl with a limitless imagination, a fierce temper, and a heart so big that she reshapes the world around her.
I actually had the opportunity to play Anne in a school play a few years back, and ever since, she’s held a special corner of my heart. Getting to embody her on stage made me realize just how much she isn’t just a character in a book—she’s a force of nature, a whirlwind of life and imagination that bursts into rooms and changes the way people see the world. That’s the true purpose of this book: to show how one irrepressible girl can soften rigid hearts, expand imaginations, and remind even the most practical adults that life should be lived with wonder.
This novel is cozy, heartwarming, and full of humor, yet it never shies away from showing the struggles of childhood, identity, and belonging. It balances the whimsical charm of Anne’s imagination with the more grounded, sometimes stern world of Green Gables.
– Anne Shirley –
Anne is, without exaggeration, one of the most vivid characters I’ve ever read. I adored her with all my heart—her relentless optimism, her dramatics, and her fierce will to be seen and loved. What makes Anne remarkable is her duality: she’s both hilariously impractical and deeply wise. She spills her feelings out in long, winding speeches, yet within those dramatic flourishes are kernels of truth that cut right to the human heart. What I love most is that she changes everyone around her—Matthew, Marilla, Diana, Gilbert—not by becoming someone different, but by being wholly, unapologetically herself. Anne’s story is proof that children aren’t meant to fit neatly into adult expectations; sometimes it’s the adults who need to change.
– Matthew Cuthbert –
Matthew is one of the gentlest, most quietly moving characters in literature. He’s shy, socially awkward, and often retreats from conversation, but he understands Anne in a way no one else does. His tenderness toward her—the way he delights in her chatter, buys her a puff-sleeved dress, and listens without judgment—broke me a little. He represents the kind of adult every child deserves: someone who may not have the right words but offers unconditional love and understanding.
– Marilla Cuthbert –
Marilla is, in many ways, Anne’s opposite. Practical, stern, and determined to raise Anne “properly,” she often suppresses her emotions in favor of rules and discipline. And yet, her growth is one of the most rewarding arcs in the novel. Watching Marilla soften—allowing herself to laugh, to love, and to appreciate Anne’s peculiarities—was beautiful. She reminded me that love doesn’t always come in the form of grand gestures or dramatic words. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet consistency of showing up for someone.
– Diana Barry –
Anne’s “bosom friend” Diana is everything Anne needs in a companion: loyal, kind, and willing to indulge Anne’s imaginative schemes (even when they lead to disasters like accidentally getting drunk on currant wine). Diana doesn’t challenge Anne’s imagination so much as provide a grounding presence—she’s the steady heart to Anne’s wild spirit. I loved their friendship because it felt so true to childhood: full of oaths of eternal loyalty, dramatic promises, and that particular brand of devotion only children seem capable of.
– Gilbert Blythe –
Ah, Gilbert. He’s witty, clever, and of course unforgettable for the infamous “carrots” incident. What’s fascinating is how his relationship with Anne begins with conflict—Anne’s fiery temper colliding with his teasing—and eventually grows into one of mutual respect and unspoken affection. Gilbert isn’t just a love interest; he’s Anne’s intellectual equal, someone who challenges her and recognizes her brilliance long before she sees it herself. Even though the romance is only hinted at in this book, the spark is undeniable.
– My Honest Review –
Anne of Green Gables is, simply put, a book that feels like home. I’ve read plenty of novels where the goal was to thrill or shock, but this one lingers for a different reason—it reminds you of the beauty in ordinary life. Every chapter feels like a little vignette of Anne learning, failing, growing, and, above all, teaching others how to see the world differently.
What I loved most—and what I think many people miss—is that Anne’s story isn’t just about her finding belonging at Green Gables. It’s about her transforming the people around her. Adults like Marilla, who live bound by rules and practicality, are forced to open their hearts and see the world with imagination again. Matthew, who is often overlooked and quiet, finds his own voice through his love for Anne. Even Diana and Gilbert are changed by her—Diana learns adventure, Gilbert learns humility and admiration. The real “arc” of this story isn’t Anne becoming what society expects of her, but rather society bending, softening, and expanding because of Anne. That’s powerful.
I also just loved Anne herself. I don’t think I’ve ever related more to a character’s dramatics and idealism. She dreams wildly, often trips over reality, but always comes back with even more determination. Some people might find her too much, but that’s exactly why she works. She’s not supposed to fit in neatly. She’s supposed to burst into the dull, gray order of Green Gables and paint it with color. And she does.
The writing itself is beautiful—flowing, whimsical, and brimming with little observations about life. Montgomery has this way of capturing both the innocence of childhood and the depth of universal human emotions in the same breath.
The only reason I gave this 4 stars instead of 5 is that, for me, some sections dragged a little. The episodic structure (each chapter as a mini-adventure or mishap) can feel meandering compared to a tightly plotted novel. But honestly, that’s part of the charm. Anne of Green Gables isn’t about rushing through a plot; it’s about lingering in a world, savoring it, and letting its warmth soak in.
This is the kind of book I know I’ll come back to again and again. Much like Anne says, every new day—and every reread—feels like a fresh chance to see the world without mistakes in it yet.
Happy reading!
