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Writer's pictureLoredana Filip

Tree Stories


Tree photo by Loredana Filip

While working on a paper for an upcoming symposium focused on "How Can Literary Studies Contribute to a Just Transition to Sustainable Societies," I found myself serendipitously immersed in the world of trees. It's fitting that today is Tree Tuesday in my Plantdiaries Instagram journal.


In my quest, I've uncovered a treasure trove of literary sources that delve into the profound presence of trees in books. Here's just one post tackling the Giving Tree, a Bodhi tree, or the Tree of Knowledge from the Bible. Also, an intriguing pattern emerges — trees often take on character roles in the realms of fantasy, whether as the wise Ents in The Lord of the Rings, the menacing Whomping Willow in Harry Potter, or the enigmatic talking trees in The Wizard of Oz. This leads to a significant realization: trees, in literature, are more than just scenery; they are characters with their own stories to tell.



Treebeard from Lord of the Rings

However, as I journey through my research and writing, one persistent question haunts me: How can we avoid projecting our distinctly human perspectives onto them? After all, these literary trees possess human-like attributes — eyes, mobility, speech. These limits of imagination are evident in one of my favorite philosophical texts, “What Is It Like to Be a Bat” by Thomas Nagel.


Undeniably, we can never entirely shed our human biases. We can never fully grasp what it truly means to be a tree. Yet, I believe that literature can facilitate a profound connection with other species, animals, and objects. It’s a form of empathy, yes, but it transcends conventional empathy. Empathy presupposes understanding another perspective because it's within our realm of experience. But literature expands our experiences — it molds "tree experiences."


Consider this passage from Virginia Woolf's "The Mark on the Wall."

I like to think of the tree itself: - first the close dry sensation of being wood; then the grinding of the storm; then the slow, delicious ooze of sap. I like to think of it, too, on winter’s nights standing in the empty field with all leaves close-furled, nothing tender exposed to the iron bullets of the moon, a naked mast upon an earth that goes tumbling, tumbling, all night long. The song of birds must sound very loud and strange in June; and how cold the feet of insects must feel upon it, as they make laborious progresses up the creases of the bark, or sun themselves upon the thin green awning of the leaves, and look straight in front of them with diamond-cut red eyes… One by one the fibers snap beneath the immense cold pressure of the earth, then the last storm comes and, falling, the highest branches drive deep into the ground again. Even so, life isn’t done with; there are a million patient, watchful lives still for a tree, all over the world, in bedrooms, in ships, on the pavement, lining rooms, where men and women sit after tea, smoking cigarettes. It is full of peaceful thoughts, happy thoughts, this tree.

In Woolf's work, trees are shaped as characters without the need for overtly human characteristics like eyes or mouths. They are intertwined with human consciousness, integrated into the ebb and flow of thoughts and impressions in the human narrator's mind.



The Overstory by Richard Powers


Now, consider Richard Powers' The Overstory as a contemporary example where trees are essential characters around which human stories orbit. While reading this novel, you often feel like you're immersing yourself in "tree experiences." Right from the first page, the pine says things, “its needles scent the air, and a force hums in the heart of the wood. Her ears tune down to the lowest frequencies. The tree is saying things, in words before words.”


It's truly remarkable how both authors understood the importance of using other senses to approach the nonhuman. Hearing, smell, taste, touch - they all matter.


The next exciting venture in the literary world, I believe, is to write stories from a tree's perspective or point of view. In all the examples I've cited, human stories remain central, as it's only natural for humans to read about their own kind. But what if we could read a story ostensibly authored by a tree?


I recognize that this is a bold proposition, one that may stir controversy, yet it's a journey I'm eager to explore further. It's also a journey my book explores. Would you like to read such a story, a tree story?




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