The Long, Long Life of Trees was not at all what I expected. I wanted a novel that would cover the historical, cultural and mythological history of trees in a way that would encompass a large variety of trees. The hope was that I would glean information that would make me a hit at parties and give me knowledge about a subject that would be fun to pull out while chatting in the office” “Did you know that the Holly Tree was..?” Unfortunately, The Long, Long Life of Trees was not THAT kind of book and admittedly soured my experience. This novel is all about artistic history of trees: poems, art, literature – it is also about the spiritual and religious connection humans have with trees.

The best part of this novel is the introduction where the author describes trees in a beautiful and lyrical way that honestly took my breath away. The language was strong and emotive. I loved trees for awhile in the way that the author loves them and felt deep wonder at the mysteries that are trees. She developed a narrative that brought the mystical nature of trees to the fore front, while condemning the destruction of forests in a powerful way. If only the book continued on this same vein..

I struggled through this novel because I care very little for art, carving uses and religious imagery curated from various types of trees. I have always had more of a desire to learn the societal and human elements behind nature and unfortunately even the literature component of this novel touched on aspects that, sadly, I could not begin to feel passionate about. I did not learn any neat facts to pull out at dinner parties and I certainly did not enjoy the dry, plodding narrative that followed the inspiring Introductory chapter.

The illustrations, although a wonderful idea, were largely wonderfully hand drawn samples, but I would have very much liked to have had images of fully trees in nature in addition to the author created. I have not seen some of these trees in person as this is a mostly British and European focused work, and would have liked to have a shot of the trees being explored.
Warning: Here There Be Empirical Facts, Mate!

Finally, I think the synopsis was misleading in utilizing words like “inspiring” and “imitate”. The Long, Long Life of Trees is an encyclopedia of trees: practical uses, poetic mentions, religious relevance and their prevalence in famous artwork. This is not a novel about the intimate or inspiring relationship with human mythos and cultural influence, but one of facts. Sadly, this book feels like it was marketed to readers of a different interest, or at least I was expected something different. The Long, Long Life of Trees is not a terrible book, it’s just mislabeled.

This book will appeal to readers who are looking for an empirical, encyclopedic book on trees, are interested in art, poetry and religious relevance of natural phenomenon and are able to read individual entries about European trees written like a textbook rather than through creative and emotional language.

Fiona Staffor’s The Long, Long Life of Trees is a collection of brief essays exploring the world of trees, each essay focusing on one of 17 trees, from oak to hawthorn, apple to horse chestnut, birch to elm. The essays range widely in their exploration, roaming equally effortlessly across science, art, literature, folklore, religion, and history, and all of it making for a browser’s delight.

The essays, despite their wide-ranging nature, move fluidly throughout each tree’s science and history, and are full of engaging details. In the essay on the olive tree for instance, Staffor takes us through The Odyssey (Odysseus’ bed made from an olive tree), the Bible (the doors of King Solomon’s temple), her own experiment to see how easily olive oil burns (very easily it turns out), how the olives are harvested, the difference between virgin and extra virgin oils, the black market in ancient olive trees (yes, “olive kidnapping”), its appearance in flags and logos, protest songs, Napoleon, and more.  It’s hard to do justice to just how varied and eclectic the information is.

The Long, Long Life of Trees though is no fancy listicle or mere recitation of cold trivia. Her voice is mostly cheerfully, warmly conversational throughout save for those moments when she’s quoting Yeats or Hopkins or Wordsworth, and there is always a sense of a living, breathing person on the end of all this knowledge, the kind of person you sort of wish you were sitting in a pub with while she regales you with her “sense of wonder” regarding these long-lived beings we share our world with.  You get a sense of joy always, mixed sometimes with sorrow, as she described for instance the various blights that threaten to wipe out (or in the case of the elm, have wiped out) large swathes of trees.  She defends the poor maligned sycamore against the slur of being called a “weed,” marshaling John Clare and Percy Shelley against such calumny. 

Some of her best writing comes at the close of each chapter, where her voice often elevates and where as well she often ties the particular tree more intimately to human existence and nature. Here, for instance, are some of her closing words on the yew tree: 

The yew need not stand as gloomy reminder of the fleeting quality of human existence; really it is a means of liberating us from limited perspectives. Something of ours can survive the centuries, just as the ancient yews of Fortingall, Llangernyw, Crowhurst, or Ankerwyke have done.  We do not know what else the yew may have hidden away inside, but one day we might.

And here is the closing passage of the cypress essay:

There is something about these thick, tall trees though, that imposes on people’s peace of mind . . . These trees seem to threaten our very sense of self as they quietly encroach. They loom in the shadows of our most unsettling dreams, inscrutable and faintly ominous. The uninvited guest at the table, the shadow cast over Arcadia, the dark note that sounds through the safety of the garden, these aromatic, eternal attendants are always there, assuming the shapes of unspoken fears, of things we dimly know but dare not acknowledge. And in the midst of all our insecurities, these tall, imperturbable conifers stand silently by, taking on our desperate projections, but remaining largely unconcerned. 

It’s fine writing that makes you re-see the world.  Staffor does just that.

Librarything and Litsy