✨Anne Blythe’s (Anne Shirley-Blythe’s namesake granddaughter) father is not Jem. It’s Shirley. It’s totally Shirley, you guys. It’s gotta be.✨
And like, Ieading right off by saying of course there’s no definitive answer to be had here, since Maud obviously isn’t available to confirm or refute any hypothesises, but I do big persist in suggesting that a very rational case can be presented for Shirley... one that at least outweighs what I now see as the generally baseless widely accepted assumption that Anne is Jem’s daughter. Keep in mind, I’m in no way trying to dog on this. The assumption is ready and easy to make, and I’d accepted fully this theory too, until about a week agooo.
ABOUT A WEEK AGO, I was poring over various Wikipedia entries for the Anne book series, and inevitably also ended up looking through the edit history of those pages. While sorting through the edit history (super extensive and interesting, by the way), the username ‘blefebvre’ popped into the archive, contributing a ton of information to the Anne pages overall, around 2008 and 2009 particularly. And literally, who else could this user be besides THE Benjamin Lefebvre? Brilliant Maud scholar and essayist, inexhaustible editor and publisher of ‘the Blythes are Quoted’? Welllll, one of these edits, a written family tree of Anne and Gilbert’s grandchildren, mentioned Anne Blythe... and pointedly noted that she was either the daughter of Jem or Shirley.
Reading that? Already a huge jump-scare surprise to me. This immediately challenged what I thought I knew about the third generation of Blythes. I sat straight up in bed, brain doing a nosedive, like wait wait wait wait wait… hold on, what? We don’t know for sure? We don’t know for sure?
Guys. We don’t know for sure.
Whichhhhh sent me on an immediate hunt to gather up what we do know for sure. The facts we do have. And it wasn’t a huge task, either… there’s really not a lot to collect.
But here it is:
In ‘the Blythes are Quoted’, Anne Blythe is mentioned in only one story, titled “The Road to Yesterday” (not to be confused with the TBAQ abridged predecessor book of the same title 😅).
All we really have of her is her name, and a couple of superficial second-hand anecdotes from a guy named Jerry (who is impersonating a fellow named Dick, but more on this a little later).
Her paternity is unconfirmed, but because her surname is Blythe (not Ford or Meredith), we can logically eliminate the possibility of her belonging to Nan, Di, or Rilla. Walter was, of course, lost in France. This leaves Jem and Shirley.
Tiny details about Anne.
As a matter of housekeeping, let me try to get the jump on any potential counter-arguments, and clear the air.
The only reason I’ve seen Jem credited with Anne is because…
1. Jem was married.
That’s the entire basis.
And I’ll grant you that. This is more than we got for Shirley. But let’s remember that at the end of ‘Rilla of Ingleside’, we only had a canon engagement between Jem and Faith... it takes getting around to ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ to absolutely conclude that their marriage went through. With the added extra bonus of finding out that they have children.
But even allowing that, ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ as an epilogue isn’t all inclusive. It isn’t a complete picture. It’s half a picture at the very best. Maud, pressured greatly, basically dumped all her disorganised, non-chronological and unedited Anne relevant WIPS + short stories + poems on her publisher's desk two days before she died. This is not a book that Maud put together, as a tailpiece collection. It was an assortment of partial works and in-character conversations that she’d tinkered with over decades. Works she never intended to see being published. They were vague ideas she was forming, little seeds. (It took a lot of effort from Benjamin Lefebvre to put TBAQ together in a readable way that made sense.)
Maud was over Anne. Over Anne by twenty years, at this point. So much so that noticeable character details and world building started slipping in Ingleside and Rilla… for obvious instance, in the lack of continuity around Shirley’s birth year, and the way readers saw almost no closure/representation for Shirley and Di, with varying degrees of near erasure in the original books.
But this doesn’t mean that Maud didn’t have plans for these two characters... their incomplete or unsatisfying stories certainly weren’t nefariously intended to be that way (there’s no secret meaning to the exclusion); Montgomery was just depleted and had been feeling ruinously dispassionate about the Blythes stories since ‘Anne of the Island’.
In ‘Reading Rilla’ we see in Maud’s many pages of left-out notes, that an ultimately scrapped journal entry from Rilla indicates that Diana Blythe wrote to their mother of her engagement to a foreign overseas officer. It’s unclear if this officer is the same ‘Austin boy’ that an older Glen woman in ‘the Blythes are Quoted’ privately wonders about (if Di 'really is engaged to him or not'), but this contradictory bit is probably just erroneous gossip from an unreliable narrator.
Anyway. All of this to say... that just because we don’t have a canon marriage for Shirley, it doesn’t disqualify him from having had a wife and kids in Maud’s post-war Four Winds. TBAQ stories were, to reiterate, half-pictures. Pictures that did/could drop a plot bomb in a single sentence. Looping back to Di, canonly we don’t have a marriage for her either... and yet, we do have two engagements that half-register. One engagement was definitive, reported by Di herself. The other a passing curiosity from someone not close enough to the Blythe family to know.
So... clearly, Maud had active intention, a plan, for Di and her own little happy epilogue. The same can be believed for Shirley. (I’m dying for the day the ‘Rainbow Valley’ and ‘Ingleside’ manuscripts get published, I’m convinced there’s more Shirley be found in the notes.)
Now, let’s dig in to Anne Blythe herself.
‘The Road to Yesterday’ is a short story about a woman named Susette (a spinster at 28), who is on the brink of an engagement to a wealthy man named Harvey Brooks. She expects the next day to be proposed to. On a whim and feeling nostalgic, she drives to Glen St. Mary, where she lived in her girlhood, for the evening. While there, she runs into a fellow, whom she believes to be Dick, her childhood bully who she hated profoundly. Except now, they’re grown and capable acting chummy over their shared memories. The weather takes a bad turn, and they take shelter and a meal together. Susette spends most of the time, all their ‘do you remembers’, being irritated by Dick’s constant name-dropping of the Blythes. He claims to have been kind of secret friends with Anne Blythe, which is contrary to Susette’s memory that Anne hated Dick. (In the end, it turns out that Susette was right… this isn’t Dick she’s talking to. It’s Jerry Thornton, Dick’s cousin.)
For the official record every Blythe mentioned in ‘the Road to Yesterday’ is as follows: Doctor Blythe, Mrs. Doctor Blythe, Rilla Ford, Jem Blythe [Jr.], Di Meredith [Jerry and Nan’s], and Anne Blythe.
It’s mostly a bunch of school yard talk, but the big takeaway for this purpose is that the Blythe/Meredith cousins all hung out together as school children.
Here’s some direct examples:
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*****
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The cheap boiled-down version of this exchange, for those who haven’t ‘the Road to Yesterday’ is basically: Susette is having strange feelings during this interaction with ‘Dick’, she’s attracted to him, declaring to herself that she won’t fall in love with him, and is clearly irritated with the near constant Anne Blythe (especially)/Blythe references. Though she herself was very fond of Jem Blythe Jr. herself, during their childhood, ‘Dick’ mentioning Anne Blythe so fondly is increasingly Not Cute to Susette. Meanwhile, ‘Dick’ is enjoying this kind of teasing, and is lowkey successful at getting a rise out of Susette, not matter how determined she is to look unaffected.
But here’s the kicker... when ‘Dick’ finally leaves off mentioning Anne Blythe, guess what topic he moves on to? 🥁
The Royal Canadian Air Force.
And just who do we all know that was in the Royal Canadian Air Force?
Shirley.
Only Shirley.
First, it tracks that ‘Dick,’ soon enlisting (we’re on the brink of WWII timeline-wise), and thinking himself funny, would choose to move on from Anne Blythe to instead a subtler rib… what he, as a once good pal of Anne’s, would know was Anne’s dad’s war faction. It’s also in the realm of possibilities that thinking on Anne so much drew up this correlation. I also ALSO think it’s worth mentioning that the only other time that the Canadian Air Force is mentioned in TBAQ is a very passing drop for Rilla, thinking of her son Gilbert Ford enlisting with the CAF. That’s it. Just those two times.
Additionally important to note is the overall subtext tone in TBAQ, which is Maud’s very greatest collection of double-vision, double-speak and intertextual reference works. There’s a beautiful scholarly essay on this, in relation to TBAQ particularly HERE.
This doesn’t only apply to cultural references in TBAQ. It also adds layers to Maud’s own existing Anne series. It really could be considered a companion piece, with X-Ray vision, e.g. how we got a ton of ‘missing’ insight into Anne and her children’s lives and minds, during the Rainbow Valley era, in Part 1 of TBAQ.
Part 2 of TBAQ (where we find ‘the Road to Yesterday’) asks us to apply what we already know to the new text we’re given.
So, understanding this … if we’re going off what we already know from ‘Rilla of Ingleside’…
What’s the reason we have the Canadian Air Force mentioned in the same story that we learn of the existence of Anne Blythe? The connection?
It’s Shirley. 🥹
A weaker argument that I’ll only mention in mild passing, because it is very weak in terms of convincing evidence, is that the text unambiguously tells is that Anne Blythe has taught ‘Dick’ from Susan’s famous recipes. Susan is another Shirley tie. It’s there to be stated. BUT. I do admit that I think Susan would’ve taught every willing Blythe grandchild with the same zeal, maybe some partiality given to the Little Brown Boy’s kid(s).
BUT, for me?
I’m properly convinced here.
Shirley was a dad, ya’ll.
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Man. How did I forget that an entire subplot of Dazai's main story was just. Trying to trap him into having a single conversation with MC like a normal person I'm so akhdjgfkljshgskjd
I just love watching her, Arthur, and Isaac deadass plot with glee to get one over on Dazai it's killing me, this is some Hamlet level shit (no Charles do not stand behind the curtain to kill Dazai coming in the window!!! yamero!!!!!)
Also because I felt personally attacked (/j) when Isaac said this:
I love you Isaac but pls have mercy on creatives we only have one brain cell and we're trying s o hard oTL
Although, and I'll leave it under the cut since I'm back on my Comte-posting, but the way Comte talks about Dazai fascinates me. Also just as fair warning, I do broach a lot of the topics that come up in Dazai rt so trigger warnings for self-harm, suicide, CPTSD and PTSD, trauma, etc. I don't go too too in-depth, but they are there.
Comte: "Dazai is quite skilled at concealing what he's really feeling, even from himself, perhaps."
The way he instantly remarks on how Dazai is not only working to conceal what he feels from others, but also from himself. Tbh I think that's enormously perceptive, because at first glance most people tend to think Dazai is lazy, troublesome, flippant, or erratic (and sometimes, a combination of all of these).
I love that he sees to the core of who Dazai is and what he's feeling; fear. Dazai is afraid of hurting someone again, but I also think on some level he's made it an ontological problem; he's afraid of himself. He thinks his very existence is a negative entity, something that exists only to hurt and/or estrange other people, something wrong/different. I'd argue that's why he's so adamant about mood-making and keeping to himself. If you never express how you truly feel or live true to yourself, on some level you can't entirely reach others. Because fundamentally, being close to other people does require some level of lowered defenses and sharing. Ergo, never dwell too long or give too much of yourself away, never make a mark on anyone--good or bad.
As a side note, Theo calls him "a half-strewn dandelion puff" and I agree that's rather blunt, but on some level Theo operates on a level of utility. His entire operating precept is that life and work must serve a discrete purpose. And Dazai, in choosing to opt out of living with meaning/intent out of fear, makes this description entirely consistent with Theo's perspective of the world. Though his phrasing is harsh and perhaps one-dimensional, I do find it interesting that he comes to a similar conclusion as Comte as to what Dazai is doing.
Comte talks about it with such clarity and calm, he really does feel so parental in this moment. He's not necessarily minimizing the reality of how Dazai is experiencing the world, but he also clearly doesn't agree with Dazai's self-perception. Perhaps most striking to me is how Comte seems to understand that the only threat Dazai poses is to himself...Sometimes it feels like, in the case of conditions like mental illness/depression/etc. people are so eager to assume ill will of a person. This is only exponentially compounded if they prove to have striking intelligence and strategic capacity, the same way Dazai does. I guess I can't help but appreciate that Comte knows the difference between strong and scared, and even how the lines between the two can and often do blur (perhaps best exemplified in his relationships with Jeanne and Dazai).
(Side note: I forgot which event it was but, one time when Dazai was homesick for cherry blossom watching, Comte had the entire house filled with flowers to cheer him up [insert ugly sobbing]).
For someone so enigmatic, evasive, and distant, Comte still notices instantly that Dazai is much, much happier with MC. I suppose it makes me wonder if Comte knew all along that Dazai's real wish was to be accepted and loved as he was, but kept quiet out of respect for his privacy. I would offer too that sometimes people need to realize these things on their own for the information to have value.
But what really gets my ass is what Comte says right after:
This is my bread and butter (so is he but that's not the point of this particular TED talk). In the last few years I've done a lot of exploratory work on how trauma is mapped both internally but also visibly on the body. What I think is engaging here is that, while it could be read on a surface level as "body language gives people's true intentions away" I don't think that's quite what he's getting at. Or perhaps better phrased, it's an oversimplification. I don't think it's that body language can't communicate real and important information about people's lives. Rather, that people associate rigid and absolutist interpretations to singular mannerisms, which does a disservice to both parties. Nobody can know a person at a glance; to say that you do reduces the lived reality of the opposite party.
Comte gives simple examples and couches his words for the context of the moment, but I think that first line is incredibly telling. "But the body is remarkably truthful." It makes me think of how, in moments where Comte is overcome with anxiety as a result of traumatic recurrence, he has acute panic attacks (i.e. shortened breath, racing heart, trembling). How Leonardo's lethargy (i.e. napping on the floor everywhere like the hobo he is) belies the reality of his very real exhaustion, the emotional turmoil that comes with a fraught immortal life.
Dazai's endless struggle with dissociation and self-harm, the way he stood in the rain unmoving at the thought of MC returning home to the modern era. Whether to numb himself from the pain of that grief/loneliness, or perhaps more likely the self-immolation of subjecting himself to the re-enactment of the most harrowing moment of his life. To relive that anguish as a reminder; to abstain from making the same mistake ever again. Jeanne's endless bodily tension, struggles with basic self-care (appears to be interoception-based; reduced signalling of the need to eat/rest/etc.), and self-isolation to cope in a world where only the strong survive. Never safe, always alone, always defensive.
I think, for many people in general but especially people who have been through intense PTSD/CPTSD/etc., it can be hard to express these feelings directly. Whether they are forcibly silenced, ridiculed into self-derision/self-concealment, or are overwhelmed by emotions that are difficult to process--each manifests itself in unconventional ways. It means a lot to me when those phenomena are portrayed so sensitively in written works/media, that they're explored with real intention and narrative subtlety to communicate how hard it is for people who are wounded or simply different (or both, as often is the case).
Addendum:
Even more than that, and this is an observation at the end of Dazai's route, is Comte's open belief that life is something to be cherished. Of course, like any other person he has behaviors he won't abide and people he doesn't feel partial to, but by and large he doesn't take life lightly. Perhaps that's why he doesn't expect Dazai to resort to such measures again, in conjunction with the circumstances of his transition. From an outsider perspective, I could see how Comte might assume Dazai no longer wishes for that if he seemed to regret his initial course of action by seeking resurrection. There is also the implication that Dazai is always at war with himself, and therefore might give contradictory impressions; one moment he wants to live, the next he doesn't. This is precisely what led him to ask Charles for help to subdue his own 'cowardice.' (His terms, not mine. [bonks him]) There is a sizeable subset of s-word survivors who, after recovery, feel that their problems were actually solvable despite their despair in the moment.
Of course, that doesn't apply to everyone, but I think there's something to be said of Comte feeling such real affection for the mansion boys that he is stricken to find out what Dazai attempted. And perhaps unsurprisingly, very adamant to keep him from ever pursuing such a course of action again. He's incredibly vulnerable about his horror that he might have inflicted something on Dazai that he never wanted in bringing him back, though Dazai comfortably refutes any lack of agency in the situation.
I guess I feel very compelled by the duality inherent in Comte's glass heart, precisely because of how realistic it feels. His greatest strength is his sensitivity, but it's also his greatest weakness in tandem. His genuine care for Dazai--the unwavering belief that his life is valuable and worthy--ends up being the reason he doesn't anticipate Dazai's rather deeply entrenched self-loathing. And to be honest, I'm a bit inclined to agree; looking back on a third reading Dazai feels way too hard on himself. It feels like the young girl's death was more a catalyst for what Dazai was already feeling, than anything. Dazai wanted so badly to have a reason to despise himself (as he already disliked how different and out of place he naturally felt) and with this, his self-reproach could have a viable, rational explanation. A locus outside of his body by which to rationalize his self-hatred. Accident or not becomes irrelevant; he was involved, and thus he is guilty.
He reminds me a lot of that post that was circulating once about how cultish behavior inculcates intelligent people with more devastating pull than one might expect, because intelligent people can more easily and more insistently find ways to desperately rationalize their situation to function in that whirlpool of abuse. Dazai feels like he's in this same such Catch-22, so busy believing he deserves to be scorned (because of how well he hides his perceived abnormalities) that he takes steps to ensure and reinforce it. He wants and needs to see his reality make sense, and if it won't answer his designs he will find a way to make it so.
It fascinates me because Dazai is an incredibly complex example of someone who desires control, but instead of inflicting it with external rapacity, he targets his own internal state. I once heard a Buddhist explain: yes, it is a sign of disturbance to engage with others aggressively and without grace. However, it is also a sign of disturbance when the mind seeks to harm one's own body. Although Dazai's disturbance is not as apparent, it is there. And that's part of what makes him so excruciatingly compelling to me, in a lot of ways he is the manifestation of the Sisyphean suffering of being ill in a quiet way. In enduring and smiling and laughing because you don't want to burden others--or know you're not allowed to--all while you slowly bleed from the inside out.
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