A Discussion of Shel Silverstein's THE GIVING TREE
I feel certain that most of you reading this right now own a copy of Shel Silverstein's 1964 book, The Giving Tree. If you don't own it, I know you have read it or had it read to you at some point in your existence. I still have the copy that was given to me by my brother on my 11th birthday in 1979 and I have memories of reading it as a kid and watching the animated version made in 1973 and narrated by Shel himself and loving it very much. Recently while talking about this book with a customer, I had a very interesting experience that lead to a discovery about my true feelings about The Giving Tree and how I currently interpret the text. This got me thinking. Many, many copies of this book are sold every year. Many, many adults have fond memories of it. But do people still read it? And if so, what do they make of it? There are many different ways to interpret the story and many different emotions elicited after reading it. However, in an interview (which he rarely gave) with Publisher's Weekly in 1975 when asked to explain the popularity of The Giving Tree, Silverstein said, "Maybe it's that it presents just one idea." But what idea? Readers of mine, I want to know what place this book has in your lives? Do you own it? Do you read it to your kids? What do they think of it? What do you think of it? PLEASE COMMENT!
Here is my story of the story:
I do not read The Giving Tree to my kids. In fact, I think I have actually come to loathe this book. These feelings came to the surface the other day when I was helping a customer who was new to the book and did not know the name of it, only the plot, find it on the shelf. This tiny, older Asian woman was so enamored of the book that her grandson had read to her that she could not stop gushing about it. I shared with her that I had my copy from when I was a child. She asked me if I loved the book too. I paused then decided to tell the truth (since she asked.) I told her I hated the book. I hated how selfless the tree was and how selfish the boy was and how sad it was that they both ended the story old, broken and with nothing left except themselves. I was a bit surprised by my reaction, but I think I know where it was coming from. As a mother, on a bad day I sometimes feel like these life-sucking little beasts are draining me of my own self and turning me into nothing more than a function, much like the boy and the Tree (who is identified as a SHE) in the story. I think I have been over identifying with the Tree and been feeling a little too angry at the selfish boy. While discussing this book with the customer, it occurred to me that it is possible to read this book from a Buddhist perspective. One Buddhist concept, simply put in American terms, is the idea that you always have more to give, even when you feel like you have nothing left. You are always the least important person in the room. Perhaps the Tree is exemplifying this quality? Perhaps she is selfless in the best way possible and not the doormat that she seems to be? As the customer pointed out to me, readers of the book can look at the behavior of the boy and make a conscious decision not to be like him, another positive reading of the text. Knowing that my interpretation of the book changed as a grew from a child to a mother, I became interested in other people's interpretations of the book.
I read it to my kids. My seventeen year old, on the verge of starting her own adult life away from home, broke down in tears after reading the book. My six year old said (when asked) that it was sad and when was his macaroni and cheese going to be ready? My thirteen year old son believes that it is a message about how we keep taking and taking from nature, depleting her resources. My husband, who had it read to him as a child, feels that it represents the bittersweet nature of love and the way that the people we love are sometimes unable to love us back or love us in the way that we want to be loved. A friend of mine said she felt it should be called The Taking Boy instead of The Giving Tree. Whatever you take away from the book, however you feel about it, clearly Silverstein wrote a timeless, powerful book that sticks in our memory, however we remember it.
I look forward to hearing how you interpret The Giving Tree, what you take away from it. and if you read it to your children.
I look forward to hearing how you interpret The Giving Tree, what you take away from it. and if you read it to your children.
Out of interest, I did a little poking around and found that The Giving Tree is pretty well entrenched in our cultural consciousness some three generations after publication. Below are some of the ways that the images and ideas from this book are popping up...
As a dedicated Mac user, this is my favorite.
Naturally, there are many tattoos of images from the book.
Shirts and Clocks, of course.
The wedding ring has to be the most fascinating to me... I want to say that it misses the point. But does it?
CAKE!
Obviously, some people are upset by the book.
And, last but certainly not least, as a 30 Rock fan, there was no way I could leave out this picture of Tracy Morgan reading the book and sobbing.
Comments
Even as a child I hated the book. I hated the boy and wanted to rescue the tree. I don't read it to my kids, though I suppose I could for a quick guilt trip on bad days. ;)
I just read "The Giving Tree" to my 4 year old daughter the other night! We have a hardcover copy that was purchased for an older child in the family when he was young.
My daughter kept asking why the boy was getting older. She is, at 4, getting a grip on her own physical and emotional growth. My own feelings are so mixed about this book. It makes me alternately sad and mad but I know that it is a necessary tale for children, at the same time...
To know that real giving can hurt and be unappreciated and taken for granted but that it doesn't make the giving any less powerful.
And then I give and receive a truly loving embrace from my sweet daughter and we move onto another book.
A microcosm of life itself.
Best Regards,
Terri
I think that, being such an intense experience economically packed into so few pages and with such simple (but powerful) line illustrations, this book is almost a conundrum. We are presented with a very mature message (whatever you think that message is) in a simplistic format (or one that we have been conditioned to think of as simplistic) and there is almost a dichotomy between the ideas and the means to conveying those ideas. How are we supposed to explain the profound experiences of the tree and the boy to little listeners? Are we being irresponsible if we don't explain it at all? Maybe the true benefit of the book is the act of exposing a child to it without explanation and letting him/her think about it, grow with it and come to an understanding of her/his own. The main message does seem to be open to interpretation, so that maybe trying to make sense of it develops a child's higher level thinking skills. It's amazing to me how such a simple text can generate such high and intense levels of thought and emotion among us!
A contemporary read for adults to understand others.
This was one of the first books we bought for our son's collection when we found out we were expecting. I read it to him about once a month, and hope that it will help teach him the importance of being thankful for the ones that love you, and would give you anything.
My strongest memory of this book is having it read to my 7th grade class in Catholic school by a strict spinster teacher who was retiring. It was part of her goodbye and I think she identified with the tree. I saw it as a story of martyrdom. My impression as a child/adolescent was that the tree was good and selfess and we should be like that tree.
But I didn't think anyone should be like the tree. Martyrs are revered in Catholic culture and I felt my own mother felt like she should sacrifice her own comfort and happiness for her children. But she just seemed unhappy and I just felt guilty. I think the relationship between the boy and the tree is so unhealthy and wrong. But reading some of the comments, maybe that is the point. Maybe we aren't supposed to see the tree as a role model, but as a warning. I don't know. I just know I don't like it.
And I HATE I Love You Forever, too! I've read the criticism of the stalking behavior but that isn't what bothers me. What bothers me is that the book only highlights the negative behaviors of each age when there are so, so many positives. It's like the child is just horrible but the mother loves him anyway because that is what mothers do. It's very one-sided to me and disturbing. And I also dislike that she only shows him affection when he is sleeping. I actually haven't found a single Robert Munsch book I like, but I disklike that one by far the most.
I didn't want my kids saddled with that idea of celebrating giving your all without ever getting your own needs met.
P.S. In our house, my partner and I call it The Codependent Tree.
But the story is about the TREE, which represents more than a single "mother" - but more the Earth itself, and all that we take from it, deface it, and need from it...it gives.
I think the story is a lesson in how to selflessly give help to others, not necessarily about he selfishness of the boy. Maybe people who do not appreciate this book need to look at just how giving, or selfish they may be themselves...
But just last night my daughter, almost 3, pulled it off the shelf and asked me to read it to her, so I did. We talked about why the tree was happy when the Boy was taking away all of the apples, branches, trunk, etc. and I did the best I could to explain it simply. (The tree loved him and therefore it made her happy to take care of him and help him.)
At the end of the book, my daughter sat silent, as if stunned, for a moment, and then said, "Let's NEVER read this book again." I told her I agreed.
There is a great description of the parent/child obligation in a Bujold book (Mirror Dance?), in which a character states that of course you could never truly pay your parents back for all the things they do for you. That debt you repay to your own children, or, if you don't have children of your own, to the world at large. I love that--that is how it should work: no one should feel bad about being loved and taken care of. Being taken care of by your parents is just the proper order of things. We should just remember our obligation to care for others.
My interpretation has always been that Silverstein meant children to feel guilty about (or at least painfully aware of) their parents' sacrifices. That is why I have always disliked The Giving Tree, because I think it is wrong to make children feel that way.
As the young reader, we dislike or are frustrated with the Boy because he is so ungrateful, but we also know that our parents are doing this for us. What is a child supposed to do with those feelings? Stop their parents from doing things for them? Figure out a way to pay them back? They can't do those things, so all that is left is for them to feel bad. I think that is wrong.
The tree does feel bad at one point--remember, one of the lines is something like, "And the tree was happy. But not really." For Pete's sake.
So I dislike the book. When I told my mom about my daughter's reaction, she suggested we burn it in some sort of ceremony. I don't think I will go that far, but I did make a promise never to read it again.
P.S. Both my kids like Love You Forever, though I could do without it. I have never assumed that the mom only expressed her love at night, I admit, only that she loved him so much that she had to be with him even while he was asleep. I think that idea appeals to my kids. They really like it if I leave them notes while they are asleep. I agree that I don't love the whole even-though-the-kid-has-all-these-vaguely-annoying-age-appropriate-qualities-she-still-loves-him aspect of it. I cannot abide the scene in which she climbs through his window. If he did not give her a spare key, there was a reason.
I thought the wedding ring captured the point of marriage very well. And that, too, will be rewarded richly in the next life.
I review at TheProfitofBooks.blogspot.com. Best wishes!
you may be intrigued by what a couple of professors of ethics and humanities had to say about it.
IF you are interested visit:
www.firstthing.com
I had the same thought as you. I asked out loud, "Has anyone ever interviewed Shel Silverstein and asked him what he meant?" (Let's get it from the source...but even in not giving it away proves his genius. it keeps us thinking and guessing and keeps the story alive.
As I was writing what the book has meant to me in light of the Tree as God, or a devoted parent, I could also view it as a codependent relationship that results in disaster.
Perhaps, Mr. Silverstein is simply that talented to make a story have two polarized meanings.
Now I can read it again without such sadness, seeing the tree as a being, though not necessarily a person, and appreciate the spirit of unconditional love represented, and the endless urge to give of itself, and I think perhaps there are many non-human relationships we have throughout our lives that nourish and support us whether or not we're always mindful of them, or focused on them to the same degree. One easy example would be a dog, as anyone who's had a dog will recognize that huge heart always broadcasting unconditional love our way, happiest when they can do something for us- and there's nothing uncomfortable about that for us.
Likewise so many inhabitants of our planet- I think of my little herb garden that gives of itself to me constantly- I cut it back harshly and it seems to thrive from the use. We are all part of an ecosystem that is constantly flowing between some part taking and another part giving and it is all part of the dance. We don't think of the deer as selfish for eating the garden- the deer in its turn will feed some other being, and it all goes around and around.
I loved the song Puff the Magic Dragon as a child too, although it made me cry every time. I felt so sad for Puff as Jackie grew up & away, and there are obviously many similarities to The Giving Tree there, and I think it does say something about growing up that *is* sad- we *do* grow up & away, all of us, and even though it's sad in one way, it is the nature of being human and part of the nature of time we have to reconcile ourselves to eventually.
The boy makes his own journey, which is a hard truth for adults to read about, since we are hard into our own part of the cycle of busyness and running around not being much in tune with the satisfaction of being instead of doing. I think you can look at the boy as a cautionary tale about the ephemeral joys of big adventures & careers, as these worthwhile ways of living your life still come to old age the same as the rest of us, and we'd better make sure we tend to the relationships that sustain us all along the way, not just as consolation prize at the end of it all.
Had the boy been more constant in his attendance of the tree, his life would have been the richer for it, rather than just popping in to get something and run off again. We see that all his activities have not fulfilled him in the end. However, the tree *is* fulfilled, regardless of the boy's attention or lack of it. Her balance was not dependent on the boy reciprocating in a certain way, it is hard not to notice.
It definitely says something deep and profound about the nature of being human and the quest of individual identity. I think it's appropriate that we have complex feelings in our reaction to it.