Canada's Beauty in Stillness (Part 2): In Search of the Pastoral on Prince Edward Island

When I wrote the first installment of this set of blog posts on elements of Canadian culture that could be found in a number of places across the country, I did not expect that this second post would come over a year later. It's for a good reason - my finally getting a long-term teaching position at a music conservatory in Toronto - but this summer has been a welcome break.

I suppose I'm not the only one. Many city folk, while eternally grateful for the everyday busyness of life that allows us to put food on the table, sometimes want a complete change of pace: a moment to get away from the bright lights; the noise; the traffic and air pollution; the near-daily news headlines about violent crime. And it's not just physical - many of us would love to get away from the frantic pace and intense competition of city life, and the toxicity and mental strain that it brings.

Perhaps that's why, during times of mass urbanization and social and personal turmoil, people have turned time and time again to the countryside. Although the Ancient Greeks upheld their civilized polis system of government, they also spoke of Arcadia: a peaceful land where carefree shepherds spent their days composing poetry. Centuries later, British landowners eschewed the formal ornamental gardens of their predecessors for the more subtly cultivated parklands of Capability Brown, while Marie Antoinette, stifled by the court atmosphere of Versailles, wore muslin dresses in protest against the extravagant fashions of the time and increasingly hid herself away at the Hameau, a small farm on the premises. In the 20th century, after witnessing the environmental destruction brought about by industrialization and the senseless slaughter of World War One, J.R.R. Tolkien sought to recreate, in the hobbits of the Shire, the rural English villages of his childhood. And presently, Cottagecore - a distinctly social-media-driven version of this drive - has burst into popular consciousness in response to both economic instability and the COVID-19 pandemic.

Now, the pastoral - this romanticized vision of countryside life - is just that: a vision. There is no reason to believe that the reality of living on a farm or in a coastal fishing village would be easy. Many rural residents must wonder at the fascination of city dwellers, who would willingly sacrifice their better job opportunities, vibrant diversity and chances for anonymity for a world marked by hard physical labour, lack of infrastructure and the type of social pressure that can only exist when everyone knows everyone else. 

Still, it is an escape from reality that people are searching for when they look to the pastoral, so some degree of fantasy and imagination is, I daresay, understandable if not the actual point altogether.

Canada, too, is no stranger to this desire for a simpler, less complicated world that could only be found in rural communities. We may be more well known for our wilderness, but it is only in the past hundred years or so that we have taken pride in rather than feared it (as discussed in the previous post about our forts). Instead, as what I have termed an "introverted nation" filled with "humble" citizens, we, too, have come to romanticize the pastoral and small town life.

And nowhere is this nostalgic longing more apparent than in Lucy Maud Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables and the place that inspired it: Prince Edward Island. Published in 1908, the novel actually takes place during the 1880s - i.e. some decades prior - and it is remembered as a keynote example of what T.D. MacLulich, writing for the Dalhousie Review, termed "the regional idyll":

"The regional idyll recreated a simple rural world, usually a heightened version of the author's childhood environment. Readers could join the author on a sentimental journey into the immediate past of their own country. The resulting blend of sentiment and nostalgia offered readers a welcome temporary escape from a world grown increasingly urban and industrial." (emphasis mine)

There is, then, something about the way Anne of Green Gables and popular images of Canada and Canadians just seem to naturally fall into place together. I had mentioned in my previous post on the subject that Canada, as a nation, was founded on the slogan, "Peace, order, and good government". Whereas, last time, my focus had been more on the concept of maintaining peace through establishing order and good government, this time, I will approach this from a different angle by focusing on the peace in and of itself.

See, my family, like so many others in the Toronto area, made the classic road trip out to the Maritimes in August 2015, with Prince Edward Island (PEI) as the ultimate destination. Like so many others, we wanted to see with our own eyes the island's red soil - so infamously good for growing potatoes - and fishing piers. And, like so many others, we wanted to catch a glimpse of the rural small-town charm that we saw in Anne of Green Gables and the 1980s TV adaptation that we had watched during family movie nights.

I have featured other stops from this trip before - it's the same one from which I drew so much to discuss places in Montréal and Québec, including the Château Saint-Louis - but now, I want to highlight the sites we visited on PEI and the discussions they inspired about our quest for the pastoral in the first place.

As it turns out, I might actually be more of a city person - but only just.

Recreating Avonlea: Tourism and the Pastoral

References to Anne of Green Gables appear almost as soon as one arrives on Prince Edward Island. The sculpture above, for instance, is from a souvenir store near the Confederation Bridge crossing - as though Anne herself is there to greet visitors to the island. Similar images crop up in just about every touristy spot as well, with numerous Anne-themed stores (pictured right) and merchandise scattered throughout.

Now, to be fair, I love Anne of Green Gables. It was one of the first actual classic novels I read in full (i.e. not an abridged children's version) growing up, and I loved Anne's combination of quirky optimism, vivid imagination, and genuine kindness towards others. Despite being completely different from Anne otherwise, these were qualities that I recognized in myself and I was inspired by her underdog orphan story and how she came to find a home and community in Avonlea - and, as an adult, I've discovered that we have shared loves for both teaching and writing.

Like many readers, I also grew up wondering whether Avonlea was, in fact, a real place. After all, as a child, I knew that PEI was Canada's smallest province - surely, there wouldn't be room in such a small space for an entirely fictional village; and surely, if Montgomery was so determined to showcase her home to the rest of the country and beyond, she would draw upon a real place that her audience could see for themselves.

The reality, though, is complicated. 

As it turns out, both Green Gables and Avonlea are fictional: inspired by real-life locations - the Macneill farm and town of Cavendish, respectively - but not real places in and of themselves.

Or, at least, they were.

See, when Anne of Green Gables was published, it was an instant bestseller. Never mind that literary critics initially dismissed it as children's fiction and not worthy of serious academic study, it was popular and, in many ways, became a quintessential representation of Canada - and Canadians - abroad. Thus, PEI became a major tourist destination and, at some point along the way, with readers eager to see Green Gables for themselves, the idea emerged to simply make it real.

Green Gables Heritage Place is what the Macneill farm looks like now. Like other similar heritage sites I've written about, such as the Château Ramezay in Montréal, it has been restored to capture a specific period in time. However, whereas other sites focused more on the history in their staging, Green Gables' interiors were inspired not so much by the original Macneill family, but by what Montgomery described of the house where Anne lived with her guardians, Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert, in the novels. 

Now, Green Gables, as it appears now, would still reflect a typical middle-class farmhouse from the 1880s and visitors could still view the site as a snapshot of daily life in that time period. However, for those who have read Anne of Green Gables, there are numerous small "Easter eggs" scattered throughout for them to find: most notably,  a cracked slate - used in lieu of notebooks by schoolchildren of the time - and brown dress with fashionably puffed sleeves alluding sufficiently to key moments in the book to make one particular bedroom instantly identifiable as "Anne's".

The recreation extends beyond the house itself, with trails through the woodland on the edge of the property meant to emulate similar pathways from the novel series which Anne had dubbed Lover's Lane and the Haunted Wood, respectively. And Anne herself even made an appearance while my family and I were there, greeting visitors as they passed through the Visitor's Centre to the property itself.

What this all means, I suppose, is that there is something rather surreal about Green Gables. I do not want to say Disney-like - because it's not quite so extreme as that - but somewhere in my mind, the cognitive dissonance between seeing a place that has tried so hard to make a fictional setting appear real and knowing that it ultimately is still just that meant that I, for one, could not quite immerse myself into the story that the site was trying to tell. 

And even when I could - when I could simply take the fantasy for what it was - this and other places so deeply embedded in the Anne of Green Gables story meant that my primary engagement with them was as representations of a key aspect of Canadian culture and not as examples of the pastoral per se.

For that, I would need something far realer.

More Rural Than Urban: Farming and Fishing on Prince Edward Island

Perhaps I am splitting hairs here. After all, I did say that, by definition, the pastoral is based on fantasy. So why, despite enjoying my visit there overall, would I still find Green Gables that little bit unnerving?

While I did not think much of this at time, in hindsight, it may be because unlike, say, a trip to Disneyworld or a preserved film set, where fantasy is the name of the game, I did have something real to compare Green Gables to: not just in terms of actual historical sites, but in terms of actual rural life as well.

For instance, given that we would be staying on PEI longer than any other stop on this road trip, my family chose not to book a hotel but one of a number of short-term rental cottages near the Prince Edward Island National Park. As a result, we were some ways from cities like Charlottetown or even small towns like Cavendish. Instead, our cottage was at the end of a short unpaved road in a small wooded area, with the closest attraction being the red sand beaches of the island's north shore. 

And, in true "Canadiana" fashion, the cottage was characterized by wooden architectural features and furniture; a prominent fireplace; earth tones; and floral quilts combined with nautical artwork on the walls. Adding to the overall rustic charm of the place, several of the pieces are deliberately old-fashioned in style: a mirror with a carved wooden frame; a hook on the back of a door to hang a hat or bags; et cetera.

(Less intentional, though, would be the spider I found on my bed the moment I walked into my room - but such things were to be expected.)

Our family's favourite aspect of this cottage, though, was how close it was to a local fishing wharf. We passed it frequently on our way to and from various attractions on the island, so that became our preferred dinner stop, buying what local fishermen had on offer that day and preparing it in our cottage's kitchen.

Honestly, though, nothing quite drove home the fact that we were in the countryside than the fact that we had to drive down country roads and by farmland to get pretty much anywhere in our sightseeing. And this experience showed me that PEI and so many other places could, in fact, run at an entirely different pace of life than I was used to. 

Not that life was ever all that hectic for us in Toronto, homebodies that we were, but when the reason for being slowed down to a snail's pace on the road is because we've found ourselves stuck following a tractor rather than stuck in gridlock, it just feels different, you know?

Given all that, it comes to no surprise that, in addition to Green Gables, we visited some actual rural businesses on the island. To be fair, I'm not sure the extent to which The Great Canadian Soap Co. is known to tourists, but it is a family-run small business that produces soaps and other toiletries and home products from the milk of their own small herd of goats. 

The shop itself is not all that big, but it, too, has its own distinctly old-fashioned and farmhouse style charm: dark wooden shelves and tables covered with tartan (Maple Leaf pattern, I believe), all filled with handmade soaps and lotions in a variety of shapes, sizes, and fragrances. The owners were very eager to show us around and, ultimately, we bought ourselves a small jar of insect repellent.

And, of course, we can't talk about a family-run goat milk soap business without addressing the stars of the show: the goats themselves. These were kept in a barn and pen at the front of the property and, given how eager Canadians (especially kids) are to see any sort of livestock on the side of the road, were a regular magnet for committed and casual customers, but also general passersby. Naturally inquisitive animals, the goats were equally excited for human interaction, and often came up to the fence for pats or to be fed leaves and blades of grass by visitors.

Overall, compared to Green Gables, it was places like these that, to me at least, felt more like I was getting a glimpse of life in the countryside. If nothing else, it was real - and there's not much that could beat that.

Country vs. City; Fantasy vs. Reality

All of this led to a really interesting family discussion as we wrapped up our trip: whether we would rather live in a place like PEI or a large city like Toronto. As a whole, we all agreed that there were perks to the slower and simpler pace of life, quietness, friendliness, and proximity to nature that living in the countryside would bring; as a family made up almost entirely of introverts (with myself being arguably the most extroverted of the bunch), it's fair to say that these are all aspects we would like to have more of in our own daily lives. And this was in 2015: well before the COVID-19 pandemic and the anxiety of being in a crowded place that came with it - and that, in all honesty, I still possess to some degree.

But where most of the others clearly preferred PEI's rural "small town" feel...I wasn't so sure.

Maybe it's because of my work or my interests, but I do like the cosmopolitanism that only a city can offer. I like being able to step out onto the street and see people and cultures from all around the world and know that I'm not the only Chinese one there. And while I have no real interest in large shopping malls or bustling street festivals, I love knowing that, even if I don't have the time or budget to visit them often, there are world class museums, art galleries, and concert halls just a commuter train ride away in the downtown. And this is a similar sentiment to what I've heard from students at the conservatory where I now teach who came from small towns themselves: as young aspiring classical musicians, there simply aren't as many opportunities for them to develop their skills in their hometowns compared to Toronto.

So, back then in 2015, I said just that: that I still preferred cities for what they had to offer. And ultimately, I settled on Halifax and Québec City (pictured left) as my favourite destinations from that road trip as, while cities, they were still small enough that - compared to Toronto, at least - there was also some of the intimacy and Old World charm that I, too, appreciated about PEI.

Cities like those, then, were something of a happy medium, as far as I was concerned. And while that still holds true in my mind, now, in 2023, I'm starting to see what all the fuss was about back then.

Don't get me wrong; I still love the positive aspects of life in Toronto as those, ultimately, haven't changed. Yet, to simply say that I prefer a city more - like I did in 2015 - would also be a lie. More than the continued threat of COVID-19 or the rising cost of living, I worry about their long-term effects on people's overall mental health and wellbeing. Since the lockdowns, there seems to have been this dark shift in the mood of the city, as exemplified by the recent news stories about violent crimes that seem to happen completely at random: opportunistic break-ins and carjackings, even in the suburbs; altercations in schools and on public transit that used to stay at just words, but now end with actual physical violence. People who weren't used to constantly having to glance sideways at each other or over their shoulders now are - and even if they stop, it's out of a resigned belief that life' s just always going to be like this rather than out of any actual sign of improvement.

Point is: since my last post, Toronto has wound up feeling less safe - even, dare I say, less "Canadian". And while hiding behind the safe walls of the garrison that is my house and my family can still work in some ways, there is a part of me now that wants something more. That wants to retreat even further, into a simpler, and more peaceful world that can only exist in my own mind. The same way that Lucy Maud Montgomery, faced with the dramatic paradigm shifts of the early 20th century, sought to retreat into the more familiar 19th century of her childhood by creating Anne and Green Gables and Avonlea. 

After all, that is what the pastoral is all about, is it not? 

But why do that, you may ask. Wouldn't trying to change the world - to fix the problems that I see - be so much better and more meaningful?

That's fair - and to those experts and activists and public servants who do see these problems and who do believe that fixing them is their calling, I wish them success. 

But I'm not any of those things. I cannot fix the economy or develop a solution to climate change or counsel those experiencing mental illness. And, unfortunately, life has taught me that passion alone - without neither resources nor the wisdom to use them - is ultimately pointless. If I try to intervene, with my ignorance, I'm liable to make things far worse before they get any better - and that's not what any of us would want.

Yet, as I think back now on that long-ago road trip to PEI, I find myself thinking about Anne. And her creator. 

And in them, I see myself.

I, too, am a teacher. I, too, am a writer and storyteller. And while I know that Montgomery's real life went nowhere nearly as smoothly as Anne's - just like I know the real Canadians are a far cry from the ideals we're presented with - I can marvel at how, despite her hardships and struggles, she created, through her words, a character who, to this day, still inspires readers to harness their own innate goodness and empathy to make their own small difference in the lives of those around them.

So, no, I can't change the world. None of us can. But I can strive to be the best version of myself. And hopefully, in so doing, I can touch those around me to do the same.

The above blog post is part of the ongoing series, Beauty in Stillness, which analyzes and reflects on quieter locations and moments from my travels. To access a master list of this and other series, click here.

What's Next?

In all honesty, it took me longer to plan and write this blog post than I had originally planned. Initially, I thought that I would be able to finish this post in late June or early July, which would have given me time to research and write about an idea I've had in my mind for, well, years now.

Last spring, at the end of my series of posts about the Château Saint-Louis and the end of French colonization in Québec, I had said that I wanted to do more such long-form historical narratives. And this summer, I was finally going to do it, using that long-ago idea as my source of inspiration.

Well, here we are now in September and, clearly, things have not turned out as planned. This summer's been far busier than I'd anticipated, so while I could get this post done, the groundwork - the preliminary research - for that second post has only just begun.

I still want to do it - especially now that I've teased it for you all. But as to when you can expect to see the results...only time can tell.

Image Credits

All images (c) Kitty Na

Further Reading and References

Websites for the Locations featured:

Green Gables Heritage Place

Stanhope Cottages - The area where my family stayed during our trip

The Great Canadian Soap Co.

Other resources:

"Anne of Green Gables and the Regional Idyll" by T.D. MacLulich for The Dalhousie Review (full text)

"Cottagecore Debuted 2,300 Years Ago" by Angelia Frey for JSTOR Daily

"The Author of 'Anne of Green Gables' Lived a Far Less Charmed Life than Her Beloved Heroine" by V. M. Braganza for Smithsonian Magazine (This article mostly focuses on the semi-autobiographical quality of another of Montgomery's novel series, Emily of New Moon, but also includes an interesting sidebar - "Novel Readership" by Brandon Tensley - that focuses on Anne of Green Gables' international appeal.)