The Books: Akin to Anne: ‘Jane Lavinia’ (L.M. Montgomery)

Daily Book Excerpt: YA/Children’s books:

0771061579.01.LZZZZZZZ.jpgAkin to Anne: Tales of Other Orphans – ‘Jane Lavinia’ by L.M. Montgomery

I like this story in the “orphan collection” as well. It doesn’t rest its entire plot on an implausible coincidence (“Oh my lord, you have my mother’s eyes … oh my gosh, you must be my long-lost second cousin thrice removed!”) This is a story of a young orphan named Jane Lavinia. She is 11 years old. She has some talent as an artist – her paintings have promise, and she loves to paint. It is something she does to lose herself in fantasy. She lives with her Aunt Rebecca – who is tough as nails (supposedly), unsympathetic towards artistic endeavors, and keeps Jane Lavinia very busy, milking cows, doing chores, etc. Jane Lavinia loves Aunt Rebecca, because she is family … but Jane Lavinia is never sure if Rebecca loves her back. She has a sneaking suspicion that she might be a burden on her aunt … that her aunt has taken her in as a duty. (Echoes of Emily here … with her feelings about Aunt Elizabeth). ‘Jane Lavinia’ was published in 1906 – so it’s pretty early, in terms of Lucy Maud’s career – maybe 5 or 6 years in … but there’s a nice feel here, a really nice characterization – a dreamy sweet little orphan … and a terrific literary character in Aunt Rebecca. It’s all a cliche, of course – but whatever – the catharsis at the end always gets me.

Here’s the ending. Jane Lavinia’s artistic talents have been noticed by some city woman who offers to take Jane Lavinia away from Aunt Rebecca and get her to a good school in far off New York – get her art lessons – give her a chance to be a success. Jane Lavinia will have no shot at success if she stayed with Rebecca on the farm. Jane Lavinia is just a little girl but she decides to go with the city woman … and Aunt Rebecca allows it.


Excerpt from Akin to Anne: Tales of Other Orphans – ‘Jane Lavinia’ by L.M. Montgomery

On the morning of departure Jane Lavinia was up and ready early. Her trunk had been taken over to Mr. Whittaker’s the night before, and she was to walk over in the morning and go with Mr. and Mrs. Stephens to the station. She put on her chiffon hat to travel in, and Aunt Rebecca did not say a word of protest. Jane Lavinia cried when she said good-by, but Aunt Rebecca did not cry. She shook hands and said stiffly, “Write when you get to New York. You needn’t let Mrs. Stephens work you to death either.”

Jane Lavinia went slowly over the bridge and up the lane. If only Aunt Rebecca had been a little sorry! But the morning was perfect and the air clear as crystal, and she was going to New York, and fame and fortune were to be hers for the working. Jane Lavinia’s spirits rose and bubbled over in a little trill of song. Then she stopped in dismay. She had forgotten her watch – her mother’s little gold watch; she had left it on her dressing table.

Jane Lavinia hurried down the lane and back to the house. In the open kitchen doorway she paused, standing on a mosaic of gold and shadow where the sunshine fell through the morning-glory vines. Nobody was in the ktichen, but Aunt Rebecca was in the little bedroom that opened off it, crying bitterly and talking aloud between her sobs, “Oh, she’s gone and left me all alone – my girl has gone! Oh, what shall I do? And she didn’t care – she was glad to go – glad to get away. Well, it ain’t any wonder. I’ve always been too cranky with her. But I loved her so much all the time, and I was so proud of her! I liked her picture-making real well, even if I did complain of her wasting her time. Oh, I don’t know how I’m ever going to keep on living now she’s gone!”

Jane Lavinia listened with a face from which all the sparkle and excitement had gone. Yet amid all the wreck and ruin of her tumbling castles in air, a glad little thrill made itself felt. Aunt Rebecca was sorry – Aunt Rebecca did love her after all!

Jane Lavinia turned and walked noiselessly away. As she went swiftly up the wild plum lane, some tears brimmed up in her eyes, but there was a smile on her lips and a song in her heart. After all, it was nicer to be loved than to be rich and admired and famous.

When she reached Mr. Whittaker’s, everybody was out in the yard ready to start.

“Hurry up, Jane Lavinia,” said Mr. Whittaker. “Blest if we hadn’t begun to think you weren’t coming at all. Lively now.”

“I am not going,” said Jane Lavinia calmly.

“Not going?” they all exclaimed.

“No, I’m very sorry, and very grateful to you, Mr. Stephens, but I can’t leave Aunt Rebecca. She’d miss me too much.”

“Well, you little goose!” said Mrs. Whittaker.

Mrs. Stephens said nothing, but frowned codly. perhaps her thoughts were less of the loss to the world of art than of the difficulty of hunting up another housemaid. Mr. Stephens looked honestly regretful.

“I’m sorry, very sorry, Miss Slade,” he said. “You have exceptional talent, and I think you ought to cultivate it.”

“I am going to cultivate Aunt Rebecca,” said Jane Lavinia.

Nobody knew just what she meant, but they all understood the firmness of her tone. Her trunk was taken down out of the express wagon, and Mr. and Mrs. Stephens drove away. Then Jane Lavinia went home. She found Aunt Rebecca washing the breakfast dishes, with big tears rolling down her face.

“Goodness me!” she cried, when Jane Lavinia walked in. ‘What’s the matter? You ain’t gone and been too late!”

“No, I’ve just changed my mind, Aunt Rebecca. They’ve gone without me. I am not going to New York – I don’t want to go. I’d rather stay at home with you.”

For a moment Aunt Rebecca stared at her. Then she stepped forward anf flung her arms about the girl.

“Oh, Jane Lavinia,” she said with a sob, “I’m so glad! I couldn’t see how I was going to get along without you, but I thought you didn’t care. You can wear that chiffon hat everywhere you want to, and I’ll get you a pink organdy dress for Sundays.”

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