If you’re like me, you probably are a longtime fan of L.M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. Maybe you’re hoping for a book that has a similar feel, but you’re not sure where to look. In this post, I’m going to be sharing a few fun vintage titles that I hope will be new to you!

– If you love the strong friendship and mischievous adventures that Anne and Diana have, try Katie John by Mary Calhoun.

– If you’re a fan of the stunning imagery and nature descriptions throughout Anne, try Maggie Rose: Her Birthday Christmas by Ruth Sawyer. (Hard to find but if you can, it’s fabulous!)

– If you’re looking for another story set in Canada and written in the 20th century, try One to Grow On by Jean Little.

– If you’re in the mood for a coming-of-age story about a young woman from a small town, try Emily of Deep Valley by Maud Hart Lovelace.

– If you’re on the hunt for another episodic book where each chapter is its own mini story, try The Saturdays or The Four-Story Mistake by Elizabeth Enright.

– If your favorite aspect of AOGG was the Anne and Gilbert subplot, try Pat of Silver Bush, one of Montgomery’s lesser-known books that features a Gilbert-like hero (Jingle)!

– If you’d like to read another heartwarming story about an orphan finding a wonderful new home, try Runaway Alice by Frances Salomon Murphy.

– If you want another lengthy girls’ classic that isn’t as well-known as Anne, try What Katy Did at School by Susan Coolidge.

What books would you recommend to Anne fans? Leave a comment below!

I hope you are having a lovely spring! I am having such a good time planting a few early seeds, doing some weeding, and watching a certain chickadee gather materials for her nest. But as usual, I’m also deep in the throes of rewriting a novel (I’m at 26k), and I’m enjoying my reading as well.

With the assistance of a helpful librarian at the Kerlan Collection of the University of Minnesota Libraries, I was recently able to acquire some scans of Maud Hart Lovelace’s research materials for Emily of Deep Valley (1950), which provided an interesting window of insight into Lovelace’s method of pre-writing (at least for Emily). I’m very much fascinated by the behind-the-scenes processes of my favorite writers, which I am sure will inspire many more blog posts like this one today and this one from last year, which explores L.M. Montgomery’s possible influence on the novels of Noel Streatfeild and Margaret Sutton. That is my particular area of interest: how writers are influenced by the authors who came before them.

Speaking of scans from the Kerlan Collection, I was also able to study a letter written in 1958 by Noel Streatfeild to Elizabeth Enright, who was evidently one of her favorite authors. In this letter, Streatfeild complimented the Melendy Quartet books and wondered if perhaps the Melendy children’s father remarried after the series ended. Since this is exactly the idea that flitted through my brain the last time I read the series, I was utterly delighted by this and by the fact that Streatfeild wrote about the family as if they were real.

This example, too, fits into my niche of fascination, and leaves me with no doubt that Streatfeild was inspired by Enright when writing her own novels. Best of all, Streatfeild also mentioned how happy she was that Enright liked her books. This was perhaps the greatest discovery of all, for there are Streatfeild-esque traces in Enright’s The Four-Story Mistake (1942), in which Shakespeare-quoting Mona gets a job as a radio actress. (And the fact that Randy is an aspiring ballerina seals the deal.) Since the first Melendy book (The Saturdays) wasn’t published until 1941—and Ballet Shoes was from 1936—it’s safe to say that Streatfeild’s stage-inclined characters could have served as inspirations for the Melendy sisters.

Along similar lines is the way that Canadian author Jean Little (who sadly passed away last year) was influenced by L.M. Montgomery. My introduction to Montgomery’s Anne of Ingleside (1939), the sixth book in the Anne series and a recent re-read, was somewhat unusual. I was reading Little’s Spring Begins in March (1966), the sequel to her acclaimed Mine for Keeps (1962), and I came to the great scene where Meg’s grandmother reads aloud Anne of Ingleside. I had always steered clear of the book, thinking it sounded dull, but Little made the story sound so interesting that I had to give it a try.

I was subsequently swept up into the Ingleside world and immediately read Rainbow Valley (1919) and then Rilla of Ingleside (1921), despite repeated warnings from my older sisters that Walter died and it was Very Sad. But what made reading Rilla particularly interesting was that I had also just read another sequel of Jean Little’s: Listen for the Singing (1977), the heart-wrenching encore to From Anna (1972). The parallels between Listen for the Singing and Rilla of Ingleside are unmistakable: two Canadian wartime novels focused on a teenage girl’s coming of age alongside a brother who does not want to go to war (and yet who goes anyway, with ensuing tragedy). Since I already knew that Little had read Montgomery from that scene in Spring Begins in March, I wondered if she had modeled Anna Solden’s brother Rudi off of Walter Blythe. I suspect that it was an influence, whether consciously or not, and I hope to someday find a bit more concrete evidence to support my theory. Little was not without criticism of Montgomery—an article she wrote for Canadian Children’s Literature in 1975 confirms that—but she also praised the way Montgomery wrote her child characters.

But lest you think that Montgomery only inspired other writers and was not inspired by any herself, this is far from the case! When recently reading Longfellow’s epic poem Evangeline, I was enraptured by the Acadian tale but also enormously pleased to realize that here was where Montgomery doubtlessly found inspiration for her own prose. The tone and style and word choice convinced me, and this paragraph in her 1929 novel Magic for Marigold clinched it:

Lazarre was playing his fiddle behind the copse of young spruces back of the apple-barn—the old brown fiddle that his great-great-great-grandfather had brought from Grand Pré. Perhaps Evangeline had danced to it. Aunt Marigold had told Marigold the story of Evangeline.

But although poetry was a major source of influence for Montgomery, it was not her only inspiration. I’m fairly certain that she read Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women (1868-9)—I know I’ve read this fact somewhere but I can’t remember where at the moment—and it’s fun to note that Alcott uses the phrase “kindred spirit” twice in Little Women; the phrase that Montgomery borrowed so memorably for Anne of Green Gables. Nowadays, the words “kindred spirit” are almost synonymous with Anne and Montgomery, and I love that it was perhaps Alcott who helped to influence Montgomery’s usage of the phrase.

These are just a few of the tidbits I’ve been pondering lately—including how Maud Hart Lovelace, as mentioned at the beginning of this post, may have been inspired by Montgomery’s books—but I shall have to close now. In any event, I’ll probably return to this subject soon, because I’m finding it pretty fun to wade through all this bookish conjecture!

And speaking of bookish conjecture … I have some *very exciting* news coming up hopefully later this year, so if you’d like to be one of the first to know, make sure you’re signed up to my newsletter!

Recently Read: The Boxcar Children by Gertrude Chandler Warner, The Four-Story Mistake by Elizabeth Enright
Currently Reading: Depend on Katie John by Mary Calhoun, Nothing to Do but Stay by Carrie Young

Springtime is such a glorious time of year—the first chirps of returning birds, the sprouting of long-dormant flowers, the happiness in the air. For the final installment of my seasonal blog series, I’ve compiled some books that I feel complement the splendor of spring!

Emily of Deep Valley by Maud Hart Lovelace
One of my all-time favorite novels is this marvelous coming-of-age story. Set in 1912 and starring an introverted but whimsical heroine, this book focuses on an orphaned girl who longs to go to college but cannot leave her beloved grandfather. But Emily eventually finds the courage and inspiration to make a special life for herself right where she is—and essentially blooms where she is planted.

Pollyanna by Eleanor H. Porter
This is another great favorite of mine, and a highly underappreciated classic novel. Although the essence of the Pollyanna story is well-known—a cheerful girl who teaches others how to be glad—the real book features so much more; it’s a layered tale with beautiful life lessons and fascinating characters.

What Katy Did at School by Susan Coolidge
I first read this novel the spring I turned nine years old, and I’ve always loved its delicious account of life at a nineteenth-century boarding school. Katy Carr and her sister Clover leave their small town to attend school in a bustling city, where they must contend with a feisty new friend, snobbish classmates, and a teacher who seems determined to make trouble for the Carr sisters.

The Sea is All Around by Elizabeth Enright
Elizabeth Enright is one of my favorite authors—she’s well-known for her Melendy Quartet series and Gone-Away Lake—but sadly, this marvelous story is out of print and is hard to find. However, it’s well worth the effort to obtain a copy, as The Sea is All Around is flavored with truly remarkable prose, an endearing young heroine, and all the beauty and majesty of life by the sea.

The Clue of the Stone Lantern by Margaret Sutton
The twenty-first volume of the Judy Bolton mysteries, Stone Lantern was published in 1950 and is one of the best books of this series. As Judy begins her preparing her flower garden for the spring, an uncanny coincidence leads her on a thrilling search to establish the unknown identity of a mysterious little girl.

Magic for Marigold by L.M. Montgomery
I just finished re-reading this lesser-known novel by Montgomery, and I thoroughly enjoyed immersing myself in the hilarious escapades of Marigold Lesley, whose imagination and flights of fancy continually get her into mischief. While the book has very little plot—it was originally a set of short stories—it’s a lovely read, and the opening of the story (in which the sprawling Lesley clan gathers to decide on a name for baby Marigold) is simply delightful.

Kilmeny of the Orchard by L.M. Montgomery
Another special book by Montgomery that has never received the recognition of the Anne or Emily novels is Kilmeny of the Orchard. It’s the tale of a schoolteacher named Eric who comes to Prince Edward Island intending to remain a short while—only to fall in love with an isolated girl named Kilmeny. One of Montgomery’s earliest works, this novella has a sweet fairy-tale tinge and a very happy ending!

Spring Begins in March by Jean Little
This is actually the second book in the Copeland family series by Jean Little—so I might recommend reading the first book, Mine for Keeps, before diving into this one! Of course, I read them out of order, so it can be done. 😉 This is the heartwarming story of Meg, a girl determined not to get along with her grandmother, who has recently come to stay. (My favorite scene in this book is when Meg’s grandmother reads aloud from Anne of Ingleside!)

Don’t forget to check out the previous posts in my seasonal series!

The Best Books of Summer
The Best Books of Autumn
The Best Books of Winter

I discovered the work of Maud Hart Lovelace at a very young age. In fact, I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t count Betsy Ray and Tacy Kelly among my best book friends. I grew up reading and rereading the first four books in this classic series of an imaginative girl growing up in the early 1900s, which were published in the 1940s and ‘50s. As a child, I spent countless hours copying the Lois Lenski illustrations in painstaking pencil, acting out the scenes with my dolls, and writing endless fan fiction on an old computer.

When I was thirteen, I endeavored to read Heaven to Betsy—the first of the series that depicts Betsy’s experiences in high school. But it was quite a shock to find that so many changes had taken place—moving to High Street! No more yellow cottage! Tib in Milwaukee! Betsy struggling to adapt to a new neighborhood! It was not to be borne. I went back to rereading the first familiar four.

Nevertheless, I picked up Heaven to Betsy again the spring I turned fifteen. Suffering from a nasty cold, I read all four high school books in a matter of days, spirinting through each one so quickly that they began to blur together in a cozy whirlwind of brass bowls, Rhetoricals, green stationery, essay contests, and Okto Deltas. I still tend to think of the four high school books as one cohesive volume that tells a single story from beginning to end. The ending of Betsy and Joe, for instance, circles back to the beginning of Heaven to Betsy, as Betsy’s two journeys to Butternut Center mirror each other in heartwarming precision. This is just one example of Maud’s stunning symmetry throughout the series that I grew to love in its entirety—after I’d grown used to the changes in Betsy’s life, just like Betsy herself.

I still remember the twinge of satisfaction mingled with disappointment that I felt upon finishing Betsy’s Wedding, the last in the series. My beloved series of books was over—forever! But the splendid thing about Maud’s novels is the re-readability. For me, none of the magic has dissipated as I reread the series for the umpteenth time—I still derive the same joy from Betsy and Tacy’s paper doll games that I did at age six. And I still feel the stings of dismay and swirls of excitement of Betsy’s ups and downs in romance, the same way I did at age fifteen. For me, the fun and fascination has only increased over the years, and I notice something new about the books every time. These books are not merely historical fiction—or school stories—or family sagas—and they’re not just about an aspiring writer, or romance, or music, or broadening travel—they’re all of those things and more.

The enchantment doesn’t even end with the main Betsy-Tacy series. Maud also penned three other novels set in Deep Valley (based on Mankato, Minnesota), including my personal favorite of her books: the lovely Emily of Deep Valley. It’s an unforgettable story of an orphaned girl who dreads a lonely winter after her friends head off to college without her. I won’t give away any spoilers, but this story of self-worth involves plenty of poetry, a pinch of genealogy, and one of my all-time favorite book heroes.

Best of all, these stories—including Emily’s—were not only based on real-life events, but real-life people. Exhaustively chronicled by Sharla Scannell Whalen, the world of Deep Valley comes alive in The Betsy-Tacy Companion (Portalington Press, 1991). I devoured this biography until I’d absorbed every detail of Maud’s life and how she recreated her past with pen and paper in such an enduring way. (An additional bonus: the Companion is also highly re-readable, and you’ll be poring over footnotes for years to come!) 🙂

For several years, these timeless tales were out-of-print, and sadly unavailable to potential readers. But at last, in 2009, the novels were reissued in beautiful editions from HarperCollins, due in large part to the effort of Jennifer Hart, a longtime Betsy-Tacy fan and Senior Vice President and Associate Publisher of HarperCollins. Now, there are more Betsy-Tacy fans than ever, as evidenced by the continued success of the Betsy-Tacy Society and the Betsy-Tacy Convention, an event that was held just last week in Minneapolis.

I often find that my favorite book characters—the ones who feel the most realistic, and the most like good friends—were actually based on real people. The cast of the Judy Bolton mystery series, Little Women’s immortal March sisters, Sydney Taylor’s All-of-a-Kind family, and Betsy Ray’s “Crowd” were all drawn from real-life individuals. It is this subtle but significant verisimilitude—along with Maud’s feel-good writing style—that have attracted such a legion of dedicated fans.

I certainly hope that, if you haven’t yet discovered this series, you’ll soon give them a try. I guarantee they will warm your heart and inspire your imagination. Disclaimer: you’ll probably wind up wishing that you grew up in the 1900s, too.