It pains me that I have not taken the time to pay proper homage to A Tree Grows. It was a book that I adored and now that is has been three weeks since I finished it, I miss. Betty Smith's autobiographical novel is easy to fall into, but in my case it was the sense the book gave me that I was traveling back in time that lured me in. Many of you know that I am semi-obsessed with the idea of time travel, which I think is the foundation for my love of reading in general. A Tree Grows was, as few books have been able to completely, an opportunity to be the fly on the wall in a small home in early-20th century Brooklyn. From the richness of the author's descriptions to the catalogue of sensations she was able to convey in her writing, it would be short-sided to describe Smith's book as one of mere sensory details.
Further, she takes you beyond the starving streets to the place where Brooklyn lives in her memory. She gives small moments meaning and slight interactions a lifetime of significance. The reader is simultaneously a child curious and observing and an adult attempting to derive meaning from the whirlwind of moments stuck in her head.
Not to go to far off on a tangent, but this was a great book and story. One that I highly recommend and will keep bringing up in conversation.
I'm not sure how many people are reading the Dorian Gray this month, but so far it is yet another book that I am pleasantly surprised by. I've read a few Wilde short stories, but had forgotten how effortlessly insight appears in both his dialogues and his descriptions. I am anxious to see where this twisted tale ends up.
Finally, this coming weekend is the cabin weekend. Please let me know if you intend to go so that we can plan rides, etc. More details to follow! Have a pleasant week!
