I thought of my mother and her struggle to find peace in those same waters, and later, when I read bits of But at eleven, I rarely questioned my mother’s rage, never wondered if she may have wanted something outside the domestic domain.
Analytical Essays On Beowulf - Critical Essays On Anne Of Green Gables
I was angry at my mother for not being more content, more like “normal moms” who were happy to cheer on the sidelines at soccer games.
I read sentences about swan-like necks and slim waists and cheeks flushed pink with fury and something burned inside of me, something I didn’t understand, something I wanted more of.
Beauty seemed to be the key, the key to being seen, to being noticed, to be taken seriously. eyes blazing, hands clenched, passionate indignation exhaling from her like an atmosphere.” When her academic rival, and eventual husband, Gilbert Blythe offers Anne a candy heart with the words “You are sweet” written on it, Anne “[takes] the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, drop[s] it on the floor, [and grinds] it to powder beneath her heel.” At eleven, I was enchanted with Anne’s intellect, her imagination, her appreciation of beauty, but most of all, I loved her rage.
I don’t like the sea so well when it’s calm and quiet.
I like the struggle—and the crash—and the noise.” She craves solitude.