First thing we’d climb a tree
And maybe then we’d talk
Or sit silently
And listen to our thoughts
With illusions of someday
Cast in a golden light
No dress rehearsal
This is our life
— “Ahead by a Century,” The Tragically Hip
“An Inward Treasure is Born” (Season 1, Episode 4)
In between daily nursings, bottle feedings, nappy changes, fussy time, playtime, and the beloved naptime, I carve out time for a humble little Netflix show called “Anne with an E.” Based on the classic “Green Gables” and “Avonlea” books by L.M. Montgomery — a series I am just now exploring — the show debuted in March 2017, ran for three seasons with promise of a fourth, but was discontinued in November 2019. Fans of the show took to the internet in hopes of saving the show, to no avail. (I didn’t start watching the show until this time, or I certainly would have protested the end of “Anne.”)
According to representatives for the show, the reason for the cancellation was the disintegrating partnership between the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Company) and Netflix. Basically, the CBC didn’t want to partner with Netflix for big-budget series to help further Netflix’s economic security ahead of their own. As usual, it came down to money and self-serving interests. However, like Anne, I have an overactive imagination and I can think of several reasons why the show probably would not have lasted in today’s world. (I’m surprised it made it to three seasons).
“What We Have Been Makes Us What We Are” (Season 2, Episode 16)
“Anne” is too much! She’s too honest, loving, intelligent, bold, dramatic, passionate, etc. a character for most viewers to relate to
We are living in a one-dimensional world, and I see evidence of it everywhere in modern society, especially entertainment. I contend that “Anne” the character, and the show itself, are too intelligent for many – certainly not all — viewers tuning in to platforms like Netflix. Most streaming offerings cater to the masses with bright-colored, flimsy fluff that has little substance. Everything seems too predictable, and most plots are thin and devoid of soul. The few shows like “Anne” that tend toward something a little different, something much deeper and meaningful…well, they tend to crash and burn while still in their prime.
“Anne” the character is certainly intense, but everything about her personality seems to be what is missing from modern entertainment. She’s meant to be exasperatingly funny, dramatic, intelligent, creative, passionate, frustrating, mind-boggling, etc. She’s both unpredictable and a contradiction in terms, with her head in the clouds and her feet firmly planted on the ground. Her soppy enthusiasm for life isn’t as inane as it first appears, in either the book or show, for she’s not boundlessly happy. She has dark and sad moments where she’s utterly hopeless and melancholy. She’s anything but a one-dimensional character, and sadly, I’m afraid she’s just too much for the modern viewer. In reflecting our own natures right back at us, Anne’s intensity might be her downfall.
“Struggling Against the Perception of Facts” (Season 2, Episode 15)
The show addresses serious themes and issues (like abuse, racism, sexism/gender inequality, xenophobia, discrimination based on sexual orientation/differing lifestyles, family/societal pressures, etc.) and it gets heavy often
I am nearing the end of the show, and plan to watch it again in the future. (I am reading the second book “Anne of Avonlea” so I cannot speak for the content of the book series yet.) “Anne” is one of those shows where you have to think and feel and reflect and a lot of people don’t want to do that. Especially during current times, when the stress of everyday can feel overwhelming enough, we don’t want to think about the heavy items in life. But shows like “Anne” force us to, and there are precious few moments of true escape when faced with such serious entertainment.
“Anne” takes place during the late 19th century in the fictional community of Avonlea, on Prince Edward Island, Canada, and finds the feisty redhead fighting for social justice in some capacity almost every episode. Each forty-plus-minute episode (27 total) addresses significant issues facing society, proving that Bob Dylan wasn’t completely accurate; the times haven’t changed as much as we’d like to believe.
Throughout the short-lived series, Anne fights valiantly for many principles and people in her close-knit circle: she works to educate and enlighten Matthew’s hired help Jerry Baynard; she pushes for community acceptance of Cole Mackenzie, a gay classmate, friend, and fellow creative; she campaigns on behalf of the unconventional “schoolmarm” Miss Muriel Stacy; and perhaps fights hardest throughout the trials and tribulations of her friendship with “kindred spirit” Diana Barry. Throughout the show, Anne struggles to come to terms with her past, and the revelations surrounding her parents and her adoption history set up and sustain the show’s overarching drama. There is nothing half-ass about Anne’s fighting spirit, and the themes get heavy, maybe too heavy if one is not in the mood for it.
Racism and xenophobia also play a role in the series, as do themes of gender inequality and family/societal pressures. None of this is easy to digest, in entertainment or the real world. Again, “Anne with an E” provides multi-dimensional perspectives and considerations of these issues, allowing Anne to serve as moral guide and/or conscience. This might feel like emotional and mental “homework” to much of today’s viewers.
“Signs are Small Measurable Things, but Interpretations are Illimitable” (Season 2, Episode 9)
I’m afraid the show, even with its adventures and misadventures, isn’t “riveting” enough for most
“Riveting” means “completely engrossing, compelling,” and as mentioned above, while these themes and issues are exactly that, many people don’t turn to entertainment to indulge in those things, but to escape them; “Anne” does not provide that luxury. Personally, I’m thankful for TV shows that require more than just a basic attention span, making me think and feel. That’s my idea of “riveting,” but I’m strange like that.
For many, “riveting” media includes at least some of the following elements: sex/nudity, action/adventure, violence/gore, shock and awe, various modes of vulgarity, etc. and without those things, many modern shows suffer. (I’m shocked that “Game of Thrones” didn’t air for 18 seasons, considering those elements were available in surplus. I stopped watching “GOT” after a few seasons because I saw that it was just another gimmick.) “Anne” is as far from a gimmick as one can get, and there were enough of us watching who would have loved to continue the “riveting” conversations the show put forth. As usual, these good things must come to an often-premature end.
“What Can Stop the Determined Heart” (Season 3, Episode 20)
Those who haven’t read the books probably aren’t interested
Even though I almost passed on the show because I haven’t read the series yet, I am glad that I took a chance on this one. The script is great, with a wonderful cast, and visualizing the characters while reading adds to the enjoyment for me. Those who have not cracked the cover of the first book are not likely to dive into a wholly unfamiliar show, and 27 episodes is a big commitment for people who haven’t already fallen in love with the likes of Anne, Marilla, Matthew, Mrs. Rachel Lynde, and other various characters.
“The Growing Good of the World” (Season 2, Episode 17)
As a self-described “old soul,” I find it hard to dive deep into today’s media. There’s not much available for people like me who crave shows with heart, intellect, and passion. Forget the sex, violence, drug use, etc. that has come to define most of the entertainment industry; “Anne” is and always will be more my speed, and I’m not going to apologize for that. No accounting for taste, but there’s also no accounting for common sense. What is common sense, really, in a world where “Anne with an E” was cancelled right when it was just getting started?
So, just what was this humble little show accomplishing before it was cruelly struck down, financial bottom line or otherwise?
Bringing critical issues to the forefront of discussion? Check.
Not relying on gratuitous elements to attract an audience? Check.
Bridging the gap between classic literature and modern entertainment? Check.
Showing the modern world that humanity, humility, and grace are still quite possible, despite signs everywhere saying otherwise? Check.
Highlighting the importance of reading, books, and having an imagination? Check.
The wonderful universe of “Anne with an E” is just too much for the world — and probably always will be. Too bad because I relished the idea of season 4. But I’ll move on, for Season 1 Episode 6 is titled “Remorse is the Poison of Life” and isn’t that the truth!
Let me know what you think about this commentary; please share your thoughts!
- “Anne with an E” is available on Netflix for your viewing pleasure.
- L.M. Montgomery’s classic series is available in several formats, including the convenient Serial Reader app.
| Lucy Maud Montgomery’s books on Anne Shirley: | ||||
| № | Book | Date published | Anne Shirley’s age | Timeline year |
| 1 | Anne of Green Gables | 1908 | 11–16 | 1876–1881 |
| 2 | Anne of Avonlea | 1909 | 16–18 | 1881–1883 |
| 3 | Anne of the Island | 1915 | 18–22 | 1883–1887 |
| 4 | Anne of Windy Poplars (Canada and USA) Anne of Windy Willows (UK and Australia) | 1936 | 22–25 | 1887–1890 |
| 5 | Anne’s House of Dreams | 1917 | 25–27 | 1890–1892 |
| 6 | Anne of Ingleside | 1939 | 34–40 | 1899–1905 |
Allison Barilone [send her mail] writes about the books she and her 8-month-old son read together in the blog Baby Stole My Book. Her first blog is called { pages for breakfast }, formerly Readage. She is passionate about literacy and maintains a rigorous social media presence to stay connected to the bookish world. She daydreams of libraries in between changing nappies. Her motto is: “Don’t look back, you’re not going that way,” unless the library is in that direction, then of course go back.
Excerpts from “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins, Scholastic Press, © 2008
{ pages for breakfast } 
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