I first encountered Scarlett O'Hara when I was 13 and she, of course, was 16. Three decades later I vividly remember her green muslin dress, matching morocco slippers and fluttering eyelashes. Not to mention her 17-inch waist and grand obsession with Ashley Wilkes. But what I remember more than anything else is my overwhelming disapproval.

Heroines were not supposed to flirt, scheme and steal their sisters' unappealing suitors. They were not supposed to throw sense and sensibility to the wind - all for a length of green velvet ribbon. They were certainly not supposed to be selfish, ruthless and openly announce that what they wanted most was to make their acquaintances "pea-green with envy". So, like the sour-faced matrons of Atlanta, I followed Scarlett's escapades with censure rather than sympathy.

After all, I had spent my childhood in the company of Enid Blyton's creations - girls named Fanny, Susie and Beth who were obedient, kind and neat. The message was loud and clear: if you were a dear little girl who minded her Ps and Qs and listened to your bossy older brother, you would get cream buns and dolls. But if you were greedy or assertive, you would get your comeuppance. Even Nancy Drew, that daredevil sleuth who accosted phantom horses and shifty intruders without turning an auburn hair, strove to be kind and sweet. While Jo March - the rebel and tomboy of Little Women - often did boringly sensible and unromantic things for the good of her family. In comparison, Scarlett seemed a heartless vixen.

Then a couple of years ago, my book club decided to revisit Tara and war-ravaged Atlanta. So out came my yellowed copy of Gone With the Wind and I settled down to dislike Scarlett all over again. But I was in for an enormous surprise. As an adult, I viewed Scarlett very differently. I identified with her pragmatism and hardnosed approach - and applauded her ability to make tough decisions in order to survive tough times. Sure she plotted and schemed and sulked in a most unheroic fashion - but that just made her more realistic and three-dimensional.

The other readers in my largely female club agreed. Scarlett was brave not just because she killed a Yankee or was willing to chop wood and dig potatoes with her once soft and celebrated hands. She was brave because she understood that survival was more important than pretty manners, dared to ignore foolish conventions and refused to buy the line that the Civil War was a noble cause. As the sardonic blockaderunner Rhett Butler put it: "When I first met you I thought, 'There is a girl in a million. She isn't like these other silly little fools who believe everything their mammas tell them and act on it, no matter how they feel. And conceal their feelings and desires and little heartbreaks behind a lot of sweet words. ' I thought, 'Miss O'Hara is a girl of rare spirit. She knows what she wants and she doesn't mind speaking her mind - or throwing vases. '"

Gone with the Wind recently celebrated its 75th birthday - but it's easy to see why, even after all these years, Scarlett O'Hara ranks high on almost every list of feisty heroines in literature. After all, she's hardly going to be dethroned by the lovesick Bella Swan of the Twilight series, who spends innumerable pages beseeching her vampire lover to turn her into a bloodsucker as well. Or by endearing but ditsy shopaholic Becky Bloomwood - with or without the Jimmy Choos. Or, for that matter, by the standardissue Damsel in Distress that we so often meet on the pages of novels.

The Damsel in Distress, incidentally, earned the ire of no less a critic than P G Wodehouse. In his wonderfully funny essay entitled 'Do Thrillers Need Heroines?' Wodehouse described this stock character in scathing terms: "Indeed, it would scarcely be overstating it to say that her mentality is that of a cockroach - and not an ordinary cockroach, at that, but one which has been dropped on its head as a baby. She may have escaped death a dozen times. She may know well that the notorious Blackbird Gang is after her to secure the papers. The police may have warned her on no account to stir outside her house. But when a messenger calls at half-past two in the morning with an unsigned note saying, "Come at once, " she just snatches at her hat and goes. "

Okay, times have changed. Today's meek Myrtles no longer need rescuing from shifty, pockmarked villains. Instead, they need to be saved from wasps, dry-rot, credit card bills, loneliness, a hungry bear, you name it. And inevitably, a dashing businessman in a BMW or a brawny forest officer in a Land Rover arrives to offer his services.

These trembling heroines certainly don't make the Girls with Gumption list. But nor do many of that new breed of female
protagonists that The New York Times complains are"tough, cold, terse, taciturn and prone to scowling and not saying goodbye when they hang up the phone". For memorable female characters don't necessarily need to tangle with crazed psychopaths or kick random acquaintances in the groin, they just need to be smart and gutsy enough to know their minds.

Who, then, manages to wangle membership to this elite club? Which female protagonists in literature possess not just sparkling eyes but vivacity, intelligence and resourcefulness as well? Which of the many women-of-words have actually managed to skip out of the books and serve as friends and role models for generations of readers?

Definitely Anne of Green Gables. Anne Shirley made one of the most unprepossessing entries into the world of literature, standing alone at the Bright River railway station with a threadbare carpetbag. "A child of about eleven, garbed in a very short, very tight, very ugly dress of yellowish grey wincey. She wore a faded brown sailor hat and beneath the hat, extending down her back were two braids of very thick, decidedly red hair. Her face was small white and thin, also much freckled;her mouth was large and so were her eyes, that looked green in some lights and moods and gray in others. "

Matthew Cuthbert, a tongue-tied bachelor who lived with his sister in the little town of Avonlea, was flabbergasted. He had asked the orphanage to send him a boy to help him in the farm. Instead, here was a scrawny girl. Then the child began to speak and he was instantly captivated - as are most readers. "I was beginning to be afraid you weren't coming for me and I was imagining all the things that might have happened to prevent you, " she said in her sweet, clear voice. "I had made up my mind that if you didn't come for me tonight I'd go down the track to that big wild cherry tree at the bend and climb up into it to stay all night. I wouldn't be a bit afraid, and it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry tree all white with bloom in the moonshine, don't you think? You could imagine you were dwelling in marble halls, couldn't you?"

Later, during the journey to Green Gables, Anne pelted Matthew Cuthbert with urgent questions: What is an alabaster brow? Which would you rather be if you had the choice - divinely beautiful or dazzlingly clever or angelically good? Then she spotted the Avenue and Barry's Pond, and within minutes had renamed them 'The White Way of Delight', and the 'Lake of Shining Waters'. Little wonder that plucky, whimsical Anne often made the good ladies of Avonlea shriek with horror.

But then spunky women - from Scarlett to Dorothea of Middlemarch - are used to raised eyebrows. Even Elizabeth Bennet of Pride and Prejudice was criticized for being too lively and impertinent. After all, Lizzy always lived by her own rules. "There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me, " she warned the arrogant Fitzwilliam Darcy early in their acquaintance, and proved her point later when she bluntly refused to marry him.

Elizabeth Bennet truly loved her embarrassing family;she had a delightful sense of the ridiculous;and was as critical of herself as of others. "I could easily forgive his pride had he not mortified mine, " she admitted with refreshing candour after a run in with Darcy. Clearly, she's a tough act to follow in the realm of fiction - and it's easy to understand why she is one of the most beloved characters in English literature.

There are, however, other worthy candidates on the Girls with Gumption list: Tough-talking, fast-food-snarfing, gun-toting California detective Kinsey Millhone. New Jersey bounty hunter Stephanie Plum who always gets her villain, even if she has to incinerate a couple of cars and misplace a dozen handcuffs on the way. Computer genius and girl with the dragon tattoo Liz Salander, perhaps the edgiest, most monosyllabic protagonist out there.

Jane Eyre is not a personal favourite. Nonetheless the story of how she evolved from a mousy girl into a confident woman is compelling - even if she did find happiness with a man who was wicked enough to lock his first wife in a tower. While headstrong Cathy Earnshaw of Wuthering Heights is as passionate and unforgettable as she is exasperating - the sort of girl who will keep you up till 3 am dissecting her love life, and then ignore all sage advice and choose pallid Edgar over Heathcliff.

Even if we don't agree with their decisions, though, it's possible to like certain characters. Lata Mehra from A Suitable Boy disappointed millions of readers when she finally chose from her three suitors -but the manner in which the 19-year-old handled her overbearing mother and examined her own feelings were admirable. And from the moment she uttered her first "Hmmm" at her sister's wedding reception (where she appeared in an unflattering pink saree) it was clear she would provide sensible, sparkling company through the 1, 350-pagelong extravaganza.

Lata, Elizabeth Bennet, Anne Shirley and all the others may just be the wispy creations of ink and imagination. But their exuberance and distinctive voices make them almost real. So much so, that I often pick up Pride and Prejudice or Middlemarch just to catch up with old friends.