Anne with an E

PLAGIARIZED REVIEW

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What a Google search has to say about Anne with an E:

This reimagining of the classic book and film is a coming-of-age story about a young orphan who is seeking love, acceptance and her place in the world. Amybeth McNulty stars as Anne, a 13-year-old who has endured an abusive childhood in orphanages and the homes of strangers. In the late 1890s, Anne is mistakenly sent to live with aging siblings, Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, who live on Prince Edward Island. Anne, who proves to be uniquely spirited, imaginative and smart, transforms the lives of Marilla, Matthew and everyone else in their small town.

And what I found in a stupid review of “Every Netflix Original Show, Ranked from Best to Worst”:

“Netflix’s re-imagination of the beloved book series takes place in the 1890s and follows a young orphan who has endured abuse both at orphanages and the homes of strangers. Things begin to look up when 13-year-old Anne is mistakenly sent to live with her aging sibling on Prince Edward Island. In this welcoming small town, Anne is finally able to unleash her spirited and unique personality.

“The series starts off as quite bland and then, somehow, manages to become even duller. The acting is forgettable and Anne with an E does not do justice to the original source material. Although it’s beautifully shot, the serene landscapes cannot make up for the dreary dialogue and snoring plot lines There’s a high chance you’ll fall asleep while watching this snoozefest.”

You see the problem? (Not the typo I copied and pasted.) Anne is not sent to live with “her aging sibling”; she is sent to live with “aging siblings, Marilla and Matthew.” The nincompoop who wrote this stupid review had A. not read the books, and B. not watched the series either. She plagiarized the summary from another source, and got the details wrong because she A. had not read the books, nor B. actually watched the series. Stupid. So. Dishonest, stupid, and, I don’t know, did I mention stupid? How could she possibly know plot?

I only found this review from November of 2018 this morning. A more careful reading of her sources or actually watching the series, not to mention a quick read of the Wikipedia page would have aided this reviewer.

Some of our favorites made the “Best” ranking, but we were surprised to find others missing. It’s all about opinion, of course, like it or not. The reviewer is certainly entitled to her opinion, but when her opinion is so clearly misinformed and borrowed—I can think of no more polite a term—where is the credibility? I was never a fan of the Anne of Green Gables books (or the Little House on the Prairie series either—the class and race and gender issues put me off), but my husband and I were delighted with what was done with Anne.

Anne with an E is a story for grown-ups. Some children’s stories are best left to childhood.

It’s a little like trying to reread the Black Stallion series and then realizing it is no longer enough that the leading character is a horse. Instead, watch the gorgeous film version, a collaboration between one of the greatest cinematographer and editor teams ever.

In any event, the rest of this reviewer’s rankings did not mesh well with our opinions. In many cases her “Best” was unwatchable while wildly popular series such as Grace and Frankie were marked as “So-So.” I only chose to read the one complete review because it surprised me. Why would I trust the rest of her rankings?

It is worth noting that while Anne with an E ranked the “Worst.” On another site, I read this morning at least 97% of actual watchers loved it according to a another source. So do we.

 

CAN YOU HAVE TOO MANY BOOKS?

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I saw a meme on Facebook the other day. The wording was something like: “I decided I needed to lose 10 pounds last year, and after six months I am doing great—12 pounds to go!”

That is the irony when our best intentions go backwards. I have some personal experience with that. I have been watching my eating, drinking, and walking for the past 7 weeks and have lost the 8 pounds I gained since last December after deciding I needed to lose 14 pounds. I sleep better and my feet feel better when I weigh less.

During that same time, I taught two college writing classes, read 38 books, completed weaving three 82″ lengths and seamed them into a 75″ x 82″ blanket + fringe, planned a quilt, submitted stories and poems and essays, several published pieces and a story due out next month plus an essay out in September. (I will inflict links to these publications upon you once they are live.)

We walk the beach most days for at least two hours. I have picked up a few hundred pounds of trash since January, and 98 bits of sea glass so far just in July. People ask Gary and I all the time what we are finding. “Do you find agates?” they invariably want to know. We always find agates. We don’t even gather most of the agates we find, not even a quarter of the agates we find. What we carry away is mostly plastic trash. You knew that.

I watched the second season of the Netflix series, Anne with an E, which I loved from the first episode and this second season more than ever with challenging issues of sexual orientation and race. The novels are pretty “safe”, but the series takes chances and flashes back to the early years not only in Anne’s life but in Marilla’s and Matthew’s lives. The characters are thus more well rounded and meaningful, more real and less white-washed cardboard characters. The Irish actor playing Anne really is not “pretty” by the standards of those days, but bursting with energy and imagination as she should be. Green Gables is depicted here in the same way that Wicked seems to portray a genuine Oz. All the magic, but a grown-up and serious version—charm without flinching.

My own flinching is mostly about too much stuff.

My goals for the year, my husband’s and my goals for the year, include gutting the house. Going leaner, you might say. We are emptying out closets and shelves, the dozens of pretty pictures that have no walls to hang upon. Gary took everything out of the attic which still had things from my mother’s house, unexamined items from her sister’s home, boxes of ceramics I made in college decades ago now.  Nothing goes back in the attic. I am about to empty four bookcases of nonfiction and poetry. A lot of the books and at least one bookcase will go out the door. We are preparing for a garage sale and major gifts to Good Will in the near future. I keep going through books and moving stacks out of the house.

Despite all that, I ordered a book the other day. I ordered three towels on sale and I ordered two skeins of yarn, even though I have SO MUCH YARN! Too much. Too many books. Too many Christmas ornaments. Too many family pictures in frames. Too much stuff. The greatest appeal about moving into a smaller house—something we fantasize about from time to time—is the need to divest.

More important than divesting is the imperative to stop accumulating. It is possible to stop. I believe it is possible, but I have to skill in that direction.

The Green Gables house in the new series is sparse and clear. The table is set for dinner in a dining room that has no other purpose but dining. The meal is eaten, the table cleared, the ceiling is the primary decoration. Beautiful unpainted boards.

No cell phones, no music but what people made for themselves. I am not so foolish and as wish myself back in that era. Dentistry. Vaccinations. Voting rights. I know what I would lose.

But Anne’s daily walk through the woods. Writing with pen and paper. A fox in the forest. People who make immediate use of nearly everything, or they do not keep it at all. Anne has little, but holds so very much. She is creative and imaginative and loving and kind. Her ambition is generous and heartfelt. She asks for little, but the best of everything. Her best is not about gilded rooms or extravagant praise. She might enjoy those things, but there is something precious and few about her longings. More does not mean better, as I was warned in childhood.

May I at least have more of Anne? And maybe a few pounds less of me.