So, this is the 100th anniversary of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. There are many celebrations and events taking place on PEI this year to commemorate the publication of the book.
This year saw the publication of a new “Anne” book by Budge Wilson, entitled “Before Green Gables“. This novel tells the story of Anne Shirley’s difficult early life before she arrived at Green Gables.
It’s an interesting idea, imagining the events and incidents that shaped Anne into the lovable character we all cherish.
But I don’t think Budge went far enough. To really understand Anne, I think we need to go right back to before her birth. We need to know about her gestation. I want to know everything about those pre-birth months, from the moment Walter Shirley’s lucky sperm met Bertha’s egg. I assume everyone else does too.
So, that’s why I’m writing Anne of Amniotic Uterus, a new novel that tells of the pre-life and loves of the precocious fetus that would become Anne with an E.
As a teaser, I hereby offer up the first sentence of my novel. I hope you enjoy it:
Miss Bertha Shirley’s ovary resided just where the Uterine main wall
dipped down into a little cervix, fringed with myometrium and ladies’
endometrium and traversed by a vagina that had its source away back in
the fallopian tubes of the old Pelvic Basin; it was reputed to be an
intricate, headlong vagina in its earlier course through the labia
minora, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it
reached Shirley’s ovaries it was a quiet, well-conducted little womb,
for not even a sigmoid colon could run past Miss Bertha Shirley’s ova
without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious
that Shirley’s ovary was ripe with estrogen, keeping a sharp eye on
everything that passed, from egg and spermatazoa, and that if she
noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had
ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.
Technorati Tags: Anne of Green Gables, Budge Wilson, Before Green Gables, satire
That’s pretty hilarious and your grasp of female anatomy is impressive as far as I can tell. But I think we should go back even further to when Anne’s pesky ginger genes entered the homosapien genepool. Oxford scientists speculate that it happened with the interbreeding of our cro-magnon ancestors with red-headed neanderthals.
So that’s why I’m writing “Og of Red Hair ” describing the adventures of that trail-blazing cro-magnon who first thought “She’s pretty hot for a neanderthal.”
Here’s a teaser…
(grunt) Og want woman; (Grunt) Me only see fire head cave woman; (Grunt)(Grunt) What Auk think of Og? (Grunt)(Grunt)(Grunt) Og not care.
Alternate title: “Og got Red Hair Fever.”
Excellent idea sir. There is so much more to learn and read of Anne. Thousands of Islanders and millions of Japanese need it like heroin. I am toying with a book based on her death. Cause? Was there ever an autopsy done? I always found it interesting that in her time they could let dead beloved family members ripen up in the living room for a week before planting. In the time houred Island tradition of the wake, who came from far and wide by buggy to admire how good she looked, the red shock of hair against the pasty white cold skin? Is the undertaker the only one who found out if the ‘rug matched the curtains’?