I’ve been a fan of L.M. Montgomery’s books since I was a little girl. Like many, my journey began with Anne of Green Gables, though my first introduction was actually the 1985 series starring Megan Follows and Jonathan Crombie. Later, when Netflix released its adaptation around the time I started middle school, I finally read the books. Needless to say, I’m well-versed in Montgomery’s work — but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I stumbled upon an old copy of The Blue Castle at a thrift store. I was shocked; I’d never heard of it. A quick Google search confirmed that it was indeed written by the same beloved author of my childhood favorites. Without hesitation, I bought it, not even knowing what it was about. That very afternoon, I sat down to read, completely unprepared for the profound journey ahead — a story that explores death, community, agency, and self-love in early 20th-century Canada.
The Blue Castle follows the life of Valancy Stirling, a 29-year-old woman who lives under the control of her mother and family, trapped in the version of herself they have imposed on her. She has internalized the belief that there is nothing more to life than dreaming of something greater. However, everything changes when she receives a doctor’s notice informing her that she has an acute heart condition and only a few months left to live. This revelation sends Valancy into a spiral, as she realizes, “Valancy Stirling, who had never lived, was about to die.” (Montgomery, 1926, p. 25)
This 150-page book took me on a completely unexpected journey, and I’m so glad it did. I never thought I’d find such relatability and understanding in a character written so long ago in such a vastly different geopolitical context. As Valancy rebels and decides to follow her own path, you can’t help but cheer her on and feel inspired by her choices. It is often in the face of death — whether personal or, in this case, fictional — that we truly appreciate the time we have lived. And though it may sound cliché, it remains true; we shouldn’t have to endure extreme circumstances to realize that we cannot live solely inside our heads or in the version of ourselves shaped by others.
“She made a discovery that surprised her: she, who had been afraid of almost everything in life, was not afraid of death. It did not seem in the least terrible to her. And she need not now be afraid of anything else. Why had she been afraid of things? Because of life. Afraid of Uncle Benjamin because of the menace of poverty in old age. But now she would never be old–neglected–tolerated. Afraid of being an old maid all her life. But now she would not be an old maid very long. Afraid of offending her mother and her clan because she had to live with and among them and couldn’t live peaceably if she didn’t give in to them. But now she hadn’t. Valancy felt a curious freedom.” (Montgomery, 1926, p. 26)
Both in this book and in real life, our communities have the power to either restrain or liberate us. On one hand, Valancy’s family — through their words, actions, and gossip — keeps her trapped. On the other hand, the new community she builds — the one that includes Barney Snaith, a mysterious and disreputable man who lives on a private island; Cissy Gay, a childhood friend dying of consumption who has been shunned for having an illegitimate child; and Roaring Abel, Cissy’s alcoholic father — helps her break free from the expectations weighing her down and explore who she truly is.
I could go on and on about all the things that make The Blue Castle such a remarkable book, but I’d rather let you discover its compelling magic for yourself. There’s something truly special about experiencing Valancy’s journey firsthand — feeling the surprises, the emotions, and the subtle yet powerful lessons it imparts. If you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend picking it up and letting it unfold its magic in your own way.