I always told my friends. "Books don't make me cry, they don't make me laugh. It's just a story, after all." I could read a book and go on with my life as if nothing had happened. Books didn't affect my life, they didn't leave an impact on me. They were simply a distraction, something to read when I was bored and drop to the side when I was busy. That's not to say all of them were like that. Of course there were the ones that stuck with me for a few days, maybe a couple weeks. But one book will stick with me for a lifetime, and even after thumbing through the pages half a dozen times, I still find something new each time.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Not many people have heard of it, and when I'm asked to describe it, I always find myself lost for words. What is it about? It's not just about Francie's struggle to find a school that she enjoys. It's not just about their efforts to find each other suitable Christmas presents, expressing their love with just the few pennies they have. It's not just about the alcoholic father, who loves his family dearly, but was never ready for one. It's not just about the aunt, desperate to have a child of her own to love, risking the gossip of the neighbors. It's not just about the fishing trip that went wrong, or the piano lessons their mother procured by questionable means, or the first writing Francie published, or even her efforts to provide for her family when she has to.
It's a story about life, and everything that comes with it. The reader is taken through a journey, told through an ominpresent perspective, as we learn about Francie's parents, her aunts, her uncles, her neighbors, her first love, and herself. It's about the value of education in rising above one's circumstances, the value of hard work and determination. It's about love for family. But most of all, it's about remembering your roots, where you came from, even while you're on the path to greatness.
So what? Plenty of books have those life lessons. And most don't do them well, the writing style preachy and the dialogue canned. But Betty Smith doesn't just write a book. It almost seems as if Francie becomes your friend. The girl who was in your class in the 2nd Grade, but you never really got to know her. And each one of us has our own stories. Stories that we don't share with everyone, but stories that would make a heart-wrenching book, if written with the same grace and poise that Smith does. There's something in the book for everyone, something that we can all relate to, and as we reluctantly close the book and put it on the nightstand, turning off the nightlamp at 4:30 AM, we lay in bed awake, relating our experiences to Francie's, and wondering how Betty Smith could describe the raw reality of life so beautifully.
