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Ann: hidden depths, even a dark side?
I've been thinking a bit lately about Ann, who is the recurrent character whose inner life we know least about - I'm trying to remember if there are any scenes anywhere in any of the books from her pov at all. If her physical resemblance to her siblings wasn't mentioned, one might think that they'd got the babies mixed up at the hospital. On the other hand, she does do classically Marlovian things like being good at games (cf the discussion with her form about throwing the match in The Cricket Term, in which it's assumed that she will be playing, until her ethical position comes into conflict with the general feeling on the subject), and her impressive performance as Mary in the Nativity Play - where she manages compelling stillness and silence; not to mention the general taking charge, being a dorm prefect and probably on the fast-track to Head Girl (she is so the kind of thing Miss Keith likes, though I could, actually, imagine conflicts). Oh yes, and she also plays the piano, well.
Although her selflessness and helpfulness are shown as intensely annoying to her siblings, there's never any doubt that Ann is entirely sincere, and is not one of those characters who recur in the novels of Charlotte Yonge, who are apparent epitomes of virtue but whose spiritual pride leads them to a fall.
Yet, it's a curious insight into her character when, in Peter's Room, she admits to identifying with Charlotte Bronte - it's almost as startling as if she'd confessed to wanting to be Amy March rather than Beth (she must surely regret the lack of modern opportunities to take gruel to the infectious deserving poor). This is an identification which involves completely eliminating Giles and Lawrie from the picture, and killing off Karen and Rowan. Not to mention their mother. Hmmm. And suggests a hidden romanticism at odds with what we thought we knew about her.
Is she really going to placidly continue on to become a nurse? Might she fall victim to a cult? Given the opportunities for women now in the C of E, might she seek ordination? Are there surprises in store?
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I do feel stirrings of worry about how Ann and the rest of the family ever got over the Edward Oeschli business - I think it's left dangling at the end of Run Away Home.
I find Ann's persistent helpfulness interesting - I always wonder whether it's her way of feeling needed, which is the closest thing to being liked she's likely to get, or whether she actually felt closest to Peter and the twins when she was four or so and they were at the playpen stage and she could trot around picking up after them, and she's been stuck in that mould of being a Big Sister ever since.
She certainly doesn't seem to get any of the perks of being older than them, unless you count the occasional boater hat.
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My main rememberance of Ann in Run Away home is her being shattered because the others lied to her about helping Edward. I do wonder if she really thinks she would have supported them, given her stubbornness when she doesn't approve of someone's actions. Although I suppose it does fit in - she doesn't try to prevent Nick taking the book, just won't assist her. Same with the bike - more of refusing to enable her rather than deliberately obstructing, although that's quibbling rather.
It's also minority/majority stuff. I feel fairly sympathetic towards Ann because she's pretty much on her own in terms of expressing her spirituality, but I find similar views infuriating in say the Chalet books, because they're everywhere.
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Though actually, just to introduce further ambiguity, it's not so much the extra book as the fact that it's Limited - and doesn't Nicola get extra annoyed because she sees Ann's point? (And herself wouldn't lend the book to anyone else for the same reason.)
Someone wrote an article a few years ago about how Ann would fit in beautifully at the Chalet School, and I agree that I sometimes feel a surprised kind of sympathy for Ann that her evident school-story virtues are not being rewarded, though I think Forest's spot on about the reaction such people really induce in others. ('She's the kind of person who lives for others...', &c)
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Yes, if she were a Yonge character she wouldn't be the complacently virtuous Flora May/Wilmet Underwood character, she'd be Phoebe (was it?) in Hopes and Fears or Nuttie in Nuttie's Father, or Meta in The Daisy Chain, who are trying to live the life of devotion within a worldly household that may be not merely indifferent to their interests but actively hostile (or at least generative of serious faith vs appropriate obedience to parents/guardians conflicts).