I read Anne of the Island by Lucy Maud Montgomery many years ago for the first time as a thirteen-year-old, marveling at the pure, high-reaching morals expressed in it along with shining moments of humor and wit. And of course, backed by the iconic and beautiful nature descriptions that have yet to be offset by another author: Montgomery knew what she was doing when she was describing sunsets and forests. Rereading Anne of the Island during quarantine was like revisiting that bliss, and it still had for me the charm of not only whisking me into Anne’s world, but suggesting for me personally: what would love for me look like?
I’m seventeen. Never have I really “fallen in love,” nor do I plan to for at least a year or two, but it’s always been something interesting to think about, all the more as my ideal has shifted over time, rearranging itself like a genie to correspond to my current obsessions or stimuli surrounding me just then. Now, I’ve written a book review about Anne of the Island already, but to clarify its portrayal of love and all its mysteries for those who have not read it, I would explain it as an ultimate debate between two opposing symbols in love: the glamorous, perfect ideal, or an old, tried-and-true friend who shares your sense of humor?
I won’t spoil the ending by revealing which side triumphed over the other in the end, although perhaps it’s obvious by the way I’ve worded it. A part of the reason I enjoyed rereading this book so much was because it was incredibly amusing to contrast the rituals and expressions associated with love then, in the 1880s, with the ones now, 2020.
Anne is sent flowers, asked to accompany men for walks outside, and walked home by the men to whom she’s given consent. The men who, in modern terms, would be described as “extra” usually send Anne poetry with a box of flowers, besides showering her with romantic compliments when they see her.
What about current customs associated with love and dating? Well, it’s considered attractive for girls to make the first move. And when men ask women out, while each woman would prefer different things, I think the general perception is that a creative yet casual manner of asking a woman, whether it be for a date, to a dance or a party, or something more serious, is preferable. Flowers and poetic compliments are considered cute and classic, but something to add to the scene, not an expected part of it.
And then, the ideal man that women dream of—while he shapeshifts for every woman, of course—has changed over the years drastically. Personally, I felt that a dark, brooding, mysterious character had always been considered desirable and attractive, but while perfect manners and romantic tendencies were essential in the 1880s, more “real” characteristics, such as a great sense of humor, some “tough”, “cool”, or “manly” qualities such as a willingness to swear or get into a fight, etc. are usually more sought after. I’ve also found, through conversations with my friends, that many girls consider kind and mild men to be boring.
What about the ideal woman? It’s more difficult for me, as a female, to judge this accurately. While this is, again, just my personal opinion, I feel that the ideal woman has shifted even more radically over the past century, and rightfully so, corresponding to the radical social perception of the role of females in society. The ideal woman has gone from kind, meek, and hardworking to intelligent, rebellious, and confident, perhaps with a sense of humor and some sassy qualities. And of course, physical beauty is also quite important. I think that it always has been and always will, despite the current campaigns about how looks don’t matter.
For support for this point of view, I have a quick psychology 101: many psychologists have striven, for years, to come up with a theory to investigate how humans find love, and what kind of people they should prefer. These are called theories of mate selection, and if you’re interested, you should Google some of them. I found them to be extremely amusing, and occasionally quite accurate. For instance, there’s a Social Exchange Theory, stating that you’d want from your partner the characteristics that you don’t have: in short, opposites attract. The Social Homogamy Theory, as opposed to that, asserts that in a mate, you’d want similarities: similar morals, religion, education, and even similar physical qualities. There’s even a study done proving that couples married for a long time look eerily alike. Murstein’s Filter Theory explains that potential mates are passed through a mental filter that we’ve developed through people we’ve grown up seeing. The filter eventually grows finer and finer, until only one candidate remains. Sternberg’s Triangular Theory of Love refers to a triangular diagram, representing the various outcomes of the mixing and matching of three important qualities of love: liking, passion, and commitment.
Summing up, this post was simply a musing of mine about the shifting faces of love, inspired by an old, sweet, illuminating novel. It was very interesting to explore how love had remained a large part of human society for what seems like forever, yet put on such different masquerades for each period in time. It was also amusing to see psychologists produce such radically different propositions on how love functioned within us, offering scientific, neurological evidence, and manage to be right, at least partially. And think of all the books, movies, songs, and plays that have worked with love as their central topic, and all the diverging views and interpretations that were created as a result. If you’re feeling that you want a good, classic romance during the quarantine, along with some deep thoughts, lighthearted gossip between friends, in a gorgeous college setting, read Anne of the Island—you’ll have fun. Of course, make sure to read the first two Anne books to understand the story better.
