What do you think?
Rate this book
The Tree
John Fowles (1926 - 2005) is widely regarded as one of the preeminent English novelists of the twentieth century his books have sold millions of copies worldwide, been turned into beloved films, and been popularly voted among the 100 greatest novels of the century.
To a smaller yet no less passionate audience, Fowles is also known for having written The Tree, one of his few works of nonfiction. First published a generation ago, it is a provocative meditation on the connection between the natural world and human creativity, and a powerful argument against taming the wild. In it, Fowles recounts his own childhood in England and describes how he rebelled against his Edwardian father's obsession with the quantifiable yield of well-pruned fruit trees and came to prize instead the messy, purposeless beauty of nature left to its wildest.
The Tree is an inspiring, even life-changing book, like Lewis Hyde's The Gift, one that reaffirms our connection to nature and reminds us of the pleasure of getting lost, the merits of having no plan, and the wisdom of following ones nose wherever it may leadin life as much as in art.
122 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1979
176 people are currently reading
2348 people want to read
About the author
John Fowles
117 books3,017 followersJohn Robert Fowles was born in Leigh-on-Sea, a small town in Essex. He recalled the English suburban culture of the 1930s as oppressively conformist and his family life as intensely conventional. Of his childhood, Fowles said "I have tried to escape ever since."
Fowles attended Bedford School, a large boarding school designed to prepare boys for university, from ages 13 to 18. After briefly attending the University of Edinburgh, Fowles began compulsory military service in 1945 with training at Dartmoor, where he spent the next two years. World War II ended shortly after his training began so Fowles never came near combat, and by 1947 he had decided that the military life was not for him.
Fowles then spent four years at Oxford, where he discovered the writings of the French existentialists. In particular he admired Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre, whose writings corresponded with his own ideas about conformity and the will of the individual. He received a degree in French in 1950 and began to consider a career as a writer.
Several teaching jobs followed: a year lecturing in English literature at the University of Poitiers, France; two years teaching English at Anargyrios College on the Greek island of Spetsai; and finally, between 1954 and 1963, teaching English at St. Godric's College in London, where he ultimately served as the department head.
The time spent in Greece was of great importance to Fowles. During his tenure on the island he began to write poetry and to overcome a long-time repression about writing. Between 1952 and 1960 he wrote several novels but offered none to a publisher, considering them all incomplete in some way and too lengthy.
In late 1960 Fowles completed the first draft of The Collector in just four weeks. He continued to revise it until the summer of 1962, when he submitted it to a publisher; it appeared in the spring of 1963 and was an immediate best-seller. The critical acclaim and commercial success of the book allowed Fowles to devote all of his time to writing.
The Aristos, a collection of philosophical thoughts and musings on art, human nature and other subjects, appeared the following year. Then in 1965, The Magus - drafts of which Fowles had been working on for over a decade - was published.
The most commercially successful of Fowles' novels, The French Lieutenant's Woman, appeared in 1969. It resembles a Victorian novel in structure and detail, while pushing the traditional boundaries of narrative in a very modern manner.
In the 1970s Fowles worked on a variety of literary projects--including a series of essays on nature--and in 1973 he published a collection of poetry, Poems.
Daniel Martin, a long and somewhat autobiographical novel spanning over 40 years in the life of a screenwriter, appeared in 1977, along with a revised version of The Magus. These were followed by Mantissa (1982), a fable about a novelist's struggle with his muse; and A Maggot (1985), an 18th century mystery which combines science fiction and history.
In addition to The Aristos, Fowles wrote a variety of non-fiction pieces including many essays, reviews, and forewords/afterwords to other writers' novels. He also wrote the text for several photographic compilations.
From 1968, Fowles lived in the small harbour town of Lyme Regis, Dorset. His interest in the town's local history resulted in his appointment as curator of the Lyme Regis Museum in 1979, a position he filled for a decade.
Wormholes, a book of essays, was published in May 1998. The first comprehensive biography on Fowles, John Fowles: A Life in Two Worlds, was published in 2004, and the first volume of his journals appeared the same year (followed recently by volume two).
John Fowles passed away on November 5, 2005 after a long illness.
Fowles attended Bedford School, a large boarding school designed to prepare boys for university, from ages 13 to 18. After briefly attending the University of Edinburgh, Fowles began compulsory military service in 1945 with training at Dartmoor, where he spent the next two years. World War II ended shortly after his training began so Fowles never came near combat, and by 1947 he had decided that the military life was not for him.
Fowles then spent four years at Oxford, where he discovered the writings of the French existentialists. In particular he admired Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre, whose writings corresponded with his own ideas about conformity and the will of the individual. He received a degree in French in 1950 and began to consider a career as a writer.
Several teaching jobs followed: a year lecturing in English literature at the University of Poitiers, France; two years teaching English at Anargyrios College on the Greek island of Spetsai; and finally, between 1954 and 1963, teaching English at St. Godric's College in London, where he ultimately served as the department head.
The time spent in Greece was of great importance to Fowles. During his tenure on the island he began to write poetry and to overcome a long-time repression about writing. Between 1952 and 1960 he wrote several novels but offered none to a publisher, considering them all incomplete in some way and too lengthy.
In late 1960 Fowles completed the first draft of The Collector in just four weeks. He continued to revise it until the summer of 1962, when he submitted it to a publisher; it appeared in the spring of 1963 and was an immediate best-seller. The critical acclaim and commercial success of the book allowed Fowles to devote all of his time to writing.
The Aristos, a collection of philosophical thoughts and musings on art, human nature and other subjects, appeared the following year. Then in 1965, The Magus - drafts of which Fowles had been working on for over a decade - was published.
The most commercially successful of Fowles' novels, The French Lieutenant's Woman, appeared in 1969. It resembles a Victorian novel in structure and detail, while pushing the traditional boundaries of narrative in a very modern manner.
In the 1970s Fowles worked on a variety of literary projects--including a series of essays on nature--and in 1973 he published a collection of poetry, Poems.
Daniel Martin, a long and somewhat autobiographical novel spanning over 40 years in the life of a screenwriter, appeared in 1977, along with a revised version of The Magus. These were followed by Mantissa (1982), a fable about a novelist's struggle with his muse; and A Maggot (1985), an 18th century mystery which combines science fiction and history.
In addition to The Aristos, Fowles wrote a variety of non-fiction pieces including many essays, reviews, and forewords/afterwords to other writers' novels. He also wrote the text for several photographic compilations.
From 1968, Fowles lived in the small harbour town of Lyme Regis, Dorset. His interest in the town's local history resulted in his appointment as curator of the Lyme Regis Museum in 1979, a position he filled for a decade.
Wormholes, a book of essays, was published in May 1998. The first comprehensive biography on Fowles, John Fowles: A Life in Two Worlds, was published in 2004, and the first volume of his journals appeared the same year (followed recently by volume two).
John Fowles passed away on November 5, 2005 after a long illness.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 227 reviews
June 7, 2017
This book is a wonderful antidote to those who see nature as a "system" or a "machine" that is somehow apart from us. Fowles sees the natural world instead as a community that we're inextricably bound up with. Trees are companions, even friends. A profound meditation:
"The particular cost of understanding the mechanism of nature, of having so successfully itemized and pigeon-holed it, lies most of all in the ordinary person's perception of it, in his or her ability to live with and care for it--and not to see it as challenge, defiance, enemy."
"The particular cost of understanding the mechanism of nature, of having so successfully itemized and pigeon-holed it, lies most of all in the ordinary person's perception of it, in his or her ability to live with and care for it--and not to see it as challenge, defiance, enemy."
April 3, 2018
Most of us familiar with John Fowles know Fowles the novelist, not Fowles the naturalist. Fowles got a lot of his impetus from his father and this extended essay shows how he absorbed and reacted to that early education.
I am one of those who believes we are the stewards of (and on) this planet. This view is very compatible with what Fowles is writing. I, too, may be waiting for a new melding of science and nature that doesn’t bend other species to our whims and desires but helps us understand an individual ecosystem and its value for the whole.
Fowles notes his father’s reaction to his vision. “…I do not cultivate trees in any sense that my father would recognize or approve. I think I truly horrified him only once in my life, which was when, soon after coming into possession, I first took him around my present exceedingly unkempt, unmanaged, and unmanageable garden…That his chaos happens to be my order is not, I think, very important.”
My edition contains the hauntingly artistic photographs of Frank Horvat that are not often meant to illustrate a particular point Fowles is making, yet reinforce the text. Like a big train leaving a station, this book takes a while to build its momentum. I hope that you find that staying with it is worth the journey.
I am one of those who believes we are the stewards of (and on) this planet. This view is very compatible with what Fowles is writing. I, too, may be waiting for a new melding of science and nature that doesn’t bend other species to our whims and desires but helps us understand an individual ecosystem and its value for the whole.
Fowles notes his father’s reaction to his vision. “…I do not cultivate trees in any sense that my father would recognize or approve. I think I truly horrified him only once in my life, which was when, soon after coming into possession, I first took him around my present exceedingly unkempt, unmanaged, and unmanageable garden…That his chaos happens to be my order is not, I think, very important.”
My edition contains the hauntingly artistic photographs of Frank Horvat that are not often meant to illustrate a particular point Fowles is making, yet reinforce the text. Like a big train leaving a station, this book takes a while to build its momentum. I hope that you find that staying with it is worth the journey.
August 11, 2021
Sanat ve doğanın Fowles gibi bir yazarın bünyesinde nasıl bütünleştiğini kendisinden okumak heyecan verici.
July 17, 2023
"Hep bir neden, bir işlev, hesaplanabilir bir getiri bulma bağımlılığı şimdi yaşamımızın her yönüne sızdı ve zevkin tam bir eş anlamlısı haline geldi. Cehennemin modern versiyonu amaçsızlıktır. Doğa özellikle bundan zarar görüyor ve bizim ona karşı kayıtsızlığımız ve düşmanlığımız onun tek amacının var olmak ve varlığını sürdürmek gibi görünmesiyle yakından ilişkili."
Uzun bir aranın ardından bir John Fowles okudum, hem de ağaçların içinde okudum, o anlattıkça ben kafamı kaldırıp ağaçlara baktım, ne güzel oldu. Fowles bu kısa denemede ağaçları anlatıyor gibi gözükse de aslında ağaçlardan yola çıkarak bizi, insanları anlatıyor.
Daha önce Fowles okumadıysanız buradan başlamanızı önermem çünkü kendi eserlerine bolca referans var; Koleksiyoncu'yu, Büyücü'yü, Fransız Teğmenin Kadını'nı okumuş olmak lazım bence tadına varmak için. Epeyce otobiyografik bir anlatı, özellikle babasıyla ilişkisi ve kendisinin dünyaya, sanata ("Bir sanat eserindeki yeri doldurulamaz olan şey son tahlilde asla ondaki teknik ya da zanaat değil, sanatçının kişiliği, onun eşsiz ve bireysel duygularının ifadesidir"), edebiyata bakışına dair çok şey bulmak mümkün.
İnsanın doğayı kategorize etme, ehlilleştirme ve sahiplenmeye odaklanan geleneksel dürtülerini sorguluyor yazar ve bir yandan da doğanın, özellikle ormanın ortaçağdan beri edebiyatta kendine bulduğu yere ve bunun anlamına dair de akıl yürütüyor. Modern edebiyatta ormanın yerini alan şehire dair yazdığı bölümler çok ilgi çekiciydi.
Doğayla gitgide daha fayda merkezli bir ilişki kurmakta olduğumuza dikkat çekerek türlü uyarılarda da bulunuyor. Bunlardan birini buraya alarak bitireyim:
"Gelecek binyılda bizi bekleyen tehlike, saldırgan bir köpekbalığı şeklinde görülen doğada değil, ondan duygusal ve entelektüel yönden giderek kopuşumuzdadır; ve çaresinin de sadece, doğayı koruma hareketinin başarısına ya da başarısızlığına bağlı olduğunu sanmıyorum. Bunun çaresi, bilimsel devrimin ve özellikle de bu devri-min dünyayi bireysel olarak algılama ve yaşama tarzımızda yol açtığı değişikliklerin bilançosundaki borç tarafını ne kadar kabulleneceğimize bağlı."
Uzun bir aranın ardından bir John Fowles okudum, hem de ağaçların içinde okudum, o anlattıkça ben kafamı kaldırıp ağaçlara baktım, ne güzel oldu. Fowles bu kısa denemede ağaçları anlatıyor gibi gözükse de aslında ağaçlardan yola çıkarak bizi, insanları anlatıyor.
Daha önce Fowles okumadıysanız buradan başlamanızı önermem çünkü kendi eserlerine bolca referans var; Koleksiyoncu'yu, Büyücü'yü, Fransız Teğmenin Kadını'nı okumuş olmak lazım bence tadına varmak için. Epeyce otobiyografik bir anlatı, özellikle babasıyla ilişkisi ve kendisinin dünyaya, sanata ("Bir sanat eserindeki yeri doldurulamaz olan şey son tahlilde asla ondaki teknik ya da zanaat değil, sanatçının kişiliği, onun eşsiz ve bireysel duygularının ifadesidir"), edebiyata bakışına dair çok şey bulmak mümkün.
İnsanın doğayı kategorize etme, ehlilleştirme ve sahiplenmeye odaklanan geleneksel dürtülerini sorguluyor yazar ve bir yandan da doğanın, özellikle ormanın ortaçağdan beri edebiyatta kendine bulduğu yere ve bunun anlamına dair de akıl yürütüyor. Modern edebiyatta ormanın yerini alan şehire dair yazdığı bölümler çok ilgi çekiciydi.
Doğayla gitgide daha fayda merkezli bir ilişki kurmakta olduğumuza dikkat çekerek türlü uyarılarda da bulunuyor. Bunlardan birini buraya alarak bitireyim:
"Gelecek binyılda bizi bekleyen tehlike, saldırgan bir köpekbalığı şeklinde görülen doğada değil, ondan duygusal ve entelektüel yönden giderek kopuşumuzdadır; ve çaresinin de sadece, doğayı koruma hareketinin başarısına ya da başarısızlığına bağlı olduğunu sanmıyorum. Bunun çaresi, bilimsel devrimin ve özellikle de bu devri-min dünyayi bireysel olarak algılama ve yaşama tarzımızda yol açtığı değişikliklerin bilançosundaki borç tarafını ne kadar kabulleneceğimize bağlı."
August 26, 2016
A John Fowles le gustan los árboles. Mucho. Muchísimo. Lo flipa con ellos. Pero no los árboles en cuanto a entes individuales, con su nombre en latín y su clasificación en una familia, orden y clase.
No.
A John Fowles le gustan los árboles en cuanto a parte de un bosque, parte de un ecosistema en perpetua simbiósis, parte de la Naturaleza.
Porque para él, un gran mal de la sociedad es la "cientificación" de la naturaleza, la necesidad de etiquetarlo todo, con la presunción de que así lo entenderemos todo. Y ello lo une a la necesidad del hombre de etiquetar y racionalizar el Arte. Para Fowles, Arte y Naturaleza no sólo se parecen, son la misma cosa. Son ambos parte de nosotros y contienen algo indescriptible y que jamás podremos definir.
Y así, Fowles escribe un ensayo corto sobre la Naturaleza, el Arte, y su visión de ambos. Y pese a ser corto y tratar de un tema que en principio no me llamaba la atención, tengo que decir que me ha ganado. Se puede estar de acuerdo o no, pero lo que es innegable es de que se trata de un libro con ideas interesantes, que te hacen pensar. Y hay innumerables libros que no consiguen eso.
No.
A John Fowles le gustan los árboles en cuanto a parte de un bosque, parte de un ecosistema en perpetua simbiósis, parte de la Naturaleza.
Porque para él, un gran mal de la sociedad es la "cientificación" de la naturaleza, la necesidad de etiquetarlo todo, con la presunción de que así lo entenderemos todo. Y ello lo une a la necesidad del hombre de etiquetar y racionalizar el Arte. Para Fowles, Arte y Naturaleza no sólo se parecen, son la misma cosa. Son ambos parte de nosotros y contienen algo indescriptible y que jamás podremos definir.
Y así, Fowles escribe un ensayo corto sobre la Naturaleza, el Arte, y su visión de ambos. Y pese a ser corto y tratar de un tema que en principio no me llamaba la atención, tengo que decir que me ha ganado. Se puede estar de acuerdo o no, pero lo que es innegable es de que se trata de un libro con ideas interesantes, que te hacen pensar. Y hay innumerables libros que no consiguen eso.
July 28, 2021
“Gelecek binyılda bizi bekleyen tehlike, saldırgan bir köpekbalığı şeklinde görülen doğada değil, ondan duygusal ve entelektüel yönden giderek kopuşumuzdadır; çaresinin de sadece doğayı koruma hareketinin başarısına ya da başarısızlığına bağlı olduğuna sanmıyorum. Bunun çaresi, bilimsel devrimin ve özellikle de bu devrimin dünyayı bireysel olarak algılama ve yaşama tarzımızda yol açtığı değişikliklerin bilançosundaki borç tarafını ne kadar kabulleneceğimize bağlı.”
Fowles kendisinin ve ailesinin doğayla, kırlarla, bahçelerle ilişkisinden yola çıkıp insanın kendisini doğanın bir parçası olarak kabul etmeyi bırakmasının, doğayı harici bir meta gibi görmenin getirdiği yıkımları irdeliyor. Üzerinde düşünülmesi gereken satırlarla dolu 75 sayfalık bir deneme.
Fowles kendisinin ve ailesinin doğayla, kırlarla, bahçelerle ilişkisinden yola çıkıp insanın kendisini doğanın bir parçası olarak kabul etmeyi bırakmasının, doğayı harici bir meta gibi görmenin getirdiği yıkımları irdeliyor. Üzerinde düşünülmesi gereken satırlarla dolu 75 sayfalık bir deneme.
October 30, 2016
BOSQUES
Fowles ama los árboles y los bosques. Ese caos verde, como él mismo lo denomina. El bosque, para Fowles, es el desorden, lo salvaje, la libertad, el silencio y el aprender a vivir a otro ritmo, más pausado, atendiendo a lo que sucede, por insignificante que nos parezca.
Con él rescaté de mi memoria mis propios bosques. Si te adentras en ellos y permites que te envuelvan descubres que cada bosque es diferente, único. Las pinedas mediterráneas del sur de Menorca, perfumadas de romero y tomillo, te ofrecen su preciada sombra cuando te diriges a alguna cala escondida en la que refrescarte; la Selva de Irati, un refugio pirenaico de hayas y abetos, en la que resulta placentero hundir los pies en otoño, cuando las hojas han empezado a cubrir el sotobosque, uniformándolo de un marrón cálido; más lejos, los increíbles bosques de Finlandia, infinitos, por donde le gustaba perderse al compositor Jean Sibelius. El suelo especialmente rocoso y cubierto de líquenes se alterna con claros verdes con abundantes bayas y setas de todos los tamaños y colores imaginables. Las coníferas, los abetos y los pinos se erigen majestuosos hacia el cielo de un azul mortecino.
JARDINES
A pesar de propugnar su especial amor por los bosques, Fowles afirma que la humanidad no ha sido capaz aún de llegar a conectar con la naturaleza de una forma genuina, ya que o bien la observa como algo a lo que sacar un provecho o bien la usa con un fin terapéutico, para desconectar de la velocidad frenética de la cotidianidad urbana. Ejemplo de ello son, para Fowles, los jardines.
Los jardines representan ese intento de dominar la naturaleza, dándole orden, podando lo salvaje y lo instintivo, anulando el descontrol que tanto temen las sociedades contemporáneas. Esta visión, heredera del racionalismo que se desarrolló en los siglos XVII y XVIII en Europa se reflejó en el diseño de los jardines del palacio de Versalles, ejemplo paradigmático del jardín francés, copiados, entre otros muchos, por los jardines del Palacio de Schönbrun en Viena. Uno de los jardines que más me gustan, de este estilo, son los del Palacio de Mirabell en Salzburgo, y también los del actual Museo Rodin de París, ubicado en el Hôtel Biron, que data del siglo XVIII, quizá este último por no ser tan extenso y, por ende, más acogedor.
No obstante sería una afirmación muy simplificadora limitar el concepto de jardín a una época determinada, derivado de un modelo de pensamiento concreto. El gusto por los jardines acompaña al hombre desde épocas remotas. Así, durante el Renacimiento, las villas italianas emularon a las villas romanas y su interés por estos espacios verdes cuidadosamente planificados; los pobladores del Al-Ándalus se ocuparon especialmente el diseño de los jardines de sus palacios, pensemos en la Alhambra y el Generalife; y a finales del siglo XVIII y durante todo el siglo XIX, con la irrupción del Romanticismo, el jardín inglés y la necesidad de cierto desorden artificial adquirió protagonismo.
Como el autor, nacido en el condado de Essex, en una casa con un pequeño jardín trasero, mi casa de la infancia también tenía un jardín en el que solíamos jugar. Recuerdo el sauce llorón, la belleza de la flor del magnolio en primavera, el violeta oscuro de las hojas del ciruelo y el cedro imponente. Los fanalillos de inspiración morisca llegados del sur lo iluminaban de noche, dándole un aire fantasmagórico, atrayente.
Mi jardín actual sigue en construcción. Un par de árboles cítricos, un manzano y unos ciruelos que dan fruto, un cerezo que es un espectáculo durante la floración, el jazmín que con su aroma nos acompaña durante las noches de verano y el granado del vecino que me gusta observar desde la ventana.
LA NATURALEZA Y EL ARTE
Habiendo expresado su preferencia por los bosques, John Fowles compara el crecimiento de un bosque con el proceso creativo. Las reflexiones que realiza sobre la sensibilidad artística, la crítica al utilitarismo como eje en el que se basa la sociedad occidental actual y la reivindicación del ecologismo como elemento al que deberíamos prestar más atención, hacen de este pequeño ensayo un libro precioso que contiene, en mi opinión, mucha verdad que suele ser silenciada.
Es uno de esos libros que me gustaría que se leyera en las escuelas. Tal vez, entonces, disfrutaríamos de un mundo diferente.
Fowles ama los árboles y los bosques. Ese caos verde, como él mismo lo denomina. El bosque, para Fowles, es el desorden, lo salvaje, la libertad, el silencio y el aprender a vivir a otro ritmo, más pausado, atendiendo a lo que sucede, por insignificante que nos parezca.
Con él rescaté de mi memoria mis propios bosques. Si te adentras en ellos y permites que te envuelvan descubres que cada bosque es diferente, único. Las pinedas mediterráneas del sur de Menorca, perfumadas de romero y tomillo, te ofrecen su preciada sombra cuando te diriges a alguna cala escondida en la que refrescarte; la Selva de Irati, un refugio pirenaico de hayas y abetos, en la que resulta placentero hundir los pies en otoño, cuando las hojas han empezado a cubrir el sotobosque, uniformándolo de un marrón cálido; más lejos, los increíbles bosques de Finlandia, infinitos, por donde le gustaba perderse al compositor Jean Sibelius. El suelo especialmente rocoso y cubierto de líquenes se alterna con claros verdes con abundantes bayas y setas de todos los tamaños y colores imaginables. Las coníferas, los abetos y los pinos se erigen majestuosos hacia el cielo de un azul mortecino.
JARDINES
A pesar de propugnar su especial amor por los bosques, Fowles afirma que la humanidad no ha sido capaz aún de llegar a conectar con la naturaleza de una forma genuina, ya que o bien la observa como algo a lo que sacar un provecho o bien la usa con un fin terapéutico, para desconectar de la velocidad frenética de la cotidianidad urbana. Ejemplo de ello son, para Fowles, los jardines.
Los jardines representan ese intento de dominar la naturaleza, dándole orden, podando lo salvaje y lo instintivo, anulando el descontrol que tanto temen las sociedades contemporáneas. Esta visión, heredera del racionalismo que se desarrolló en los siglos XVII y XVIII en Europa se reflejó en el diseño de los jardines del palacio de Versalles, ejemplo paradigmático del jardín francés, copiados, entre otros muchos, por los jardines del Palacio de Schönbrun en Viena. Uno de los jardines que más me gustan, de este estilo, son los del Palacio de Mirabell en Salzburgo, y también los del actual Museo Rodin de París, ubicado en el Hôtel Biron, que data del siglo XVIII, quizá este último por no ser tan extenso y, por ende, más acogedor.
No obstante sería una afirmación muy simplificadora limitar el concepto de jardín a una época determinada, derivado de un modelo de pensamiento concreto. El gusto por los jardines acompaña al hombre desde épocas remotas. Así, durante el Renacimiento, las villas italianas emularon a las villas romanas y su interés por estos espacios verdes cuidadosamente planificados; los pobladores del Al-Ándalus se ocuparon especialmente el diseño de los jardines de sus palacios, pensemos en la Alhambra y el Generalife; y a finales del siglo XVIII y durante todo el siglo XIX, con la irrupción del Romanticismo, el jardín inglés y la necesidad de cierto desorden artificial adquirió protagonismo.
Como el autor, nacido en el condado de Essex, en una casa con un pequeño jardín trasero, mi casa de la infancia también tenía un jardín en el que solíamos jugar. Recuerdo el sauce llorón, la belleza de la flor del magnolio en primavera, el violeta oscuro de las hojas del ciruelo y el cedro imponente. Los fanalillos de inspiración morisca llegados del sur lo iluminaban de noche, dándole un aire fantasmagórico, atrayente.
Mi jardín actual sigue en construcción. Un par de árboles cítricos, un manzano y unos ciruelos que dan fruto, un cerezo que es un espectáculo durante la floración, el jazmín que con su aroma nos acompaña durante las noches de verano y el granado del vecino que me gusta observar desde la ventana.
LA NATURALEZA Y EL ARTE
Habiendo expresado su preferencia por los bosques, John Fowles compara el crecimiento de un bosque con el proceso creativo. Las reflexiones que realiza sobre la sensibilidad artística, la crítica al utilitarismo como eje en el que se basa la sociedad occidental actual y la reivindicación del ecologismo como elemento al que deberíamos prestar más atención, hacen de este pequeño ensayo un libro precioso que contiene, en mi opinión, mucha verdad que suele ser silenciada.
Es uno de esos libros que me gustaría que se leyera en las escuelas. Tal vez, entonces, disfrutaríamos de un mundo diferente.
November 4, 2019
Fowles ve doğa 💖 Daha ne olsun
March 2, 2016
Re-read thoughts /5/16/2015:
Came back to this book nearly four years after the initial reading, and after a long trip where I spent a lot of time with some wild trees. I still found it beautiful and touching and wonderful. I also found some sections that challenged me (and that I didn't particularly remember from the first time around.) and that I didn't quite agree with as wholeheartedly as I did when I first read it - but I think that is a good thing! I still recommend this essay fully to anyone and everyone interested in nature and human existence.
...
This book is profoundly beautiful. I bought my own copy of this in paperback after reading a library copy. That alone should tell you how much this book moved me - I don't like to hold on to books, but this one is an exception. This book will travel with me and I will read it over and over.
While the entire essay is not more than 100 pages (in the 30th anniversary reprint edition), there are three sections: the first contrasts Fowles and his father and their views on nature, order, and chaos. The second part is a treatise on nature as art and science, but also a criticism on how nature is seen and "encapsulated" by humans. This was my favorite part of the book because it had so much substance. Nature philosophy and transcendence. The book ends with a walk around the English moors and meditations.
A small book, but so heavy in content. Initially I read the book cover to cover, and now I want to re-read and take it in chunks. It needs to be pondered. That's why I bought my own physical copy - which doesn't happen much anymore. It is just that good.
Came back to this book nearly four years after the initial reading, and after a long trip where I spent a lot of time with some wild trees. I still found it beautiful and touching and wonderful. I also found some sections that challenged me (and that I didn't particularly remember from the first time around.) and that I didn't quite agree with as wholeheartedly as I did when I first read it - but I think that is a good thing! I still recommend this essay fully to anyone and everyone interested in nature and human existence.
...
This book is profoundly beautiful. I bought my own copy of this in paperback after reading a library copy. That alone should tell you how much this book moved me - I don't like to hold on to books, but this one is an exception. This book will travel with me and I will read it over and over.
While the entire essay is not more than 100 pages (in the 30th anniversary reprint edition), there are three sections: the first contrasts Fowles and his father and their views on nature, order, and chaos. The second part is a treatise on nature as art and science, but also a criticism on how nature is seen and "encapsulated" by humans. This was my favorite part of the book because it had so much substance. Nature philosophy and transcendence. The book ends with a walk around the English moors and meditations.
A small book, but so heavy in content. Initially I read the book cover to cover, and now I want to re-read and take it in chunks. It needs to be pondered. That's why I bought my own physical copy - which doesn't happen much anymore. It is just that good.
July 31, 2017
Quite an intense read for a relatively short novella. There were some sections that I found a bit daunting, and then I would move to a section that would sing. This is about so much more than trees, but at the same time, it is very essentially about trees. They are Fowles' door into dealing with all he wants to say about nature and man.
Will return to complete
Will return to complete
Read
September 5, 2010I don’t know how to explain this book. It is a simple book, it is not a simple book, and it can speak for itself. I have never read anything else by John Fowles, and I don’t know when I will, but now I have read this. My brain is fried. This book, this tiny little volume, this tiny little essay, was everything I expected and more, and even more after that. It blew my mind.
I saw this book and bought it, though I have 80-something books I need to read. I saw the title and grabbed it, smiled when I saw the cover. I read the summary and the first few paragraphs, and tucked it away for the right time. I finally found the right time last week, and I am so glad I did.
This book is about nature, life, the relationship between nature and everything else. This book is about how we’ve come out of contact with nature, how we are too busy on our cell phone or our iPods to see the things that people hundreds of years ago didn’t have a choice but to see.
This is about trees, those massive things that shed their leaves and grow new ones and never move, never die, and how they are one of the most beautiful things in the world.
I can’t do this essay justice. John Fowles’ writing is perfect, flowing and beautiful and so easy to read, so accessible, yet so heavy and dense with all of this special meaning. I was glad for it. I read almost all of this book in a single morning.
I want to write something like this, someday, when I am older. I want to write something this honest, something this beautiful, that in 90 pages can shake someone to their core.
I can use my cell phone less, and my iPod, and stay off the computer as much as possible. I can turn off the television and go read a book, write a song, do my homework. I can go for a walk and look at the trees, and the sun, and I never look at these things anymore. I am just as out of touch as the rest of the world. This is what a good book does to you.
This book and Mary Oliver, for me, now go hand in hand. Mary Oliver’s poetry is so simply sublime and John Fowles’ writing is so flawless and flowing and poetic, yet on a different level than Mary’s but almost the same.
I am looking out my front door as I am writing this and looking at the trees across the park from my house. I am looking at the clouds in the sky, the sun that is covering everything, and I am not looking away. I am not going to forget this book. Things like these stick inside of a person.
I am latching on.
I saw this book and bought it, though I have 80-something books I need to read. I saw the title and grabbed it, smiled when I saw the cover. I read the summary and the first few paragraphs, and tucked it away for the right time. I finally found the right time last week, and I am so glad I did.
This book is about nature, life, the relationship between nature and everything else. This book is about how we’ve come out of contact with nature, how we are too busy on our cell phone or our iPods to see the things that people hundreds of years ago didn’t have a choice but to see.
This is about trees, those massive things that shed their leaves and grow new ones and never move, never die, and how they are one of the most beautiful things in the world.
I can’t do this essay justice. John Fowles’ writing is perfect, flowing and beautiful and so easy to read, so accessible, yet so heavy and dense with all of this special meaning. I was glad for it. I read almost all of this book in a single morning.
I want to write something like this, someday, when I am older. I want to write something this honest, something this beautiful, that in 90 pages can shake someone to their core.
I can use my cell phone less, and my iPod, and stay off the computer as much as possible. I can turn off the television and go read a book, write a song, do my homework. I can go for a walk and look at the trees, and the sun, and I never look at these things anymore. I am just as out of touch as the rest of the world. This is what a good book does to you.
This book and Mary Oliver, for me, now go hand in hand. Mary Oliver’s poetry is so simply sublime and John Fowles’ writing is so flawless and flowing and poetic, yet on a different level than Mary’s but almost the same.
I am looking out my front door as I am writing this and looking at the trees across the park from my house. I am looking at the clouds in the sky, the sun that is covering everything, and I am not looking away. I am not going to forget this book. Things like these stick inside of a person.
I am latching on.
December 22, 2015
John Fowles es el reputado autor de El mago, uno de esos libros que el canon occidental nos obliga a leer antes de morir si queremos alcanzar el estatus de persona culta. Sin embargo, Fowles no solo se dio a la novela, sino que tuvo tiempo de sacar ideas de debajo de las piedras y elaborar con ellas truculentos ensayos como el que recientemente ha rescatado la editorial Impedimenta. En El árbol, Fowles nos relata su infancia en Inglaterra y cómo la obsesión de su padre con la explotación comercial de los árboles que tenían en su pequeño huerto lo condujo a abrazar ideas y doctrinas opuestas que posteriormente desarrollaron su creatividad y forjaron su visión del mundo. A priori no parece muy interesante, pero lo es. Fowles se las ingenia para hablar en este libro de las plantas, la naturaleza y de lo verde en general como si fuera la hostia en verso, desarrollando postulados científicos, sociales e incluso metafísicos que te dejan bastante patidifuso. Sorprendente, curioso y enriquecedor, El árbol de Fowles es mucho más de lo que aparenta a simple vista, así que no dudéis en darle una oportunidad si tenéis la ocasión.
November 11, 2021
”A stabili o relație cu natura este atât o artă, cât și o știiță, se plasează dincolo de simpla cunoaștere sau simpla simțire și, cred acum, dincolo de misticismul oiental, transcendentalism, de ”tehnicile de meditatie” și toate celelalte- cel puțin în forma în care noi, vesticii, le-am convertit spre propria-ne folosință într-o manieră care se arată tot mai narcisistă, pentru a ne face să ne simțim mai bine, mai bogați în interpretări, mai dinamici. Cred că la natură nu se poate ajunge astfel, transformând-o într-o terapie, într-o clinică gratuită pentru admiratorii prpriilor sensibilități. Cea mai subtilă dintre înstrăinările noastre față de ea-dar și cel mai greu de înțeles-este nevoia de a o folosi într-un anume fel, de a obține un câștig personal. Nu vom înțelege niciodata pe deplin natura (si pe noi înșine) și, fără îndoială, n-o vom respecta niciodată până când nu vom disocia caracterul ei sălbatic de noțiunea de utilitate” pg 63
June 28, 2020
"But it is the silence, the waitingness of the place, that is so haunting; a quality all woods will have on occasion, but which is overwhelming here—a drama, but of a time-span humanity cannot conceive. A pastness, a presentness, a skill with tenses the writer in me knows he will never know; partly out of his own inadequacies, partly because there are tenses human language has yet to invent…I ask why I, of a species so incapable of stillness, am here…So I sit in the namelessness, the green phosphorous of the tree, surrounded by impenetrable misappellations."
May 5, 2018
Fowles confounded my expectations: of the 101 pages in my edition, perhaps 12 are given over to a description of woodland and trees, and those twelve provide him with further material to ponder the relationship between people, as individuals and as societies, and nature. Starting with a meditation on the differences between his own and his father's views of nature, Fowles takes in art, science, religion, and the essential ineffability of existence.
August 18, 2020
It is a great insight into the mind of my favourite writer, who believes in the indescribable power of untamed nature
March 16, 2023
Para mi ha sido una gozada de libro. Fowles va reflexionando sobre la historia del ser humano, de la evolución del pensamiento científico, y nos lo cuenta a través de sus experiencias personales, su forma de conectar con la naturaleza , con los bosques concretamente, y cómo se refleja en el resto de sus vivencias (literatura, ocio, trabajo…). Es una visión de la naturaleza que muchos compartimos, ese reconocimiento de que no está ahí para que nosotros la entendamos, ni para hacernos la vida más agradable (o más difícil, depende de quién lo mire). Y que la visión es intransferible, cada cual debe experimentarla por sí mismo (o no, dependerá de cada cual).
Relacionando todo lo que nos cuenta con sus novelas, tan diferentes unas de otras, llegamos a comprender su figura literaria y vital un poco más. Y a disfrutar de su manera de contar y ver las cosas.
Relacionando todo lo que nos cuenta con sus novelas, tan diferentes unas de otras, llegamos a comprender su figura literaria y vital un poco más. Y a disfrutar de su manera de contar y ver las cosas.
December 15, 2019
«Únicamente de una manera personal, de una manera directa, podemos llegar a conocer la realidad natural, en su propio presente. Nadie puede comprenderla a través de otro. Ni siquiera parcelándola. Solo se puede llegar a ella a través de uno mismo».
January 24, 2015
A tribute to nature, especially woods and their influence on art, literature and last but not least, the author himself.
September 30, 2021
A swift yet reflective and contemplative read from John Fowles.
Much of this book uses the tree as metaphor to explore the relationship (or lack thereof) Fowles had with his father. Family dynamics, egos, foibles and shortcomings are cast under the spotlight, as are broader generalisations on "Man's" relationship with nature.
Fowles is insightful, ruminative and engaging in his discussion.
Well worth a read albeit a quick one.
Much of this book uses the tree as metaphor to explore the relationship (or lack thereof) Fowles had with his father. Family dynamics, egos, foibles and shortcomings are cast under the spotlight, as are broader generalisations on "Man's" relationship with nature.
Fowles is insightful, ruminative and engaging in his discussion.
Well worth a read albeit a quick one.
March 28, 2021
Fowles’ın ağaçlarını sevdim. Onun ağaçları, ormanları özgür ve insan ötesinde. Bizimle ilgili ve bizimle hiç ilgili değil. Her şeyden önce çitlerle çevrili değil ve kökleri özgür ama bir o kadar da savunmasız.
Read
June 22, 2020Güzel kitap ama maalesef çeviri çok kötü.
November 3, 2010
This is the 30th anniversary edition of John Fowles legendary essay about trees. Or rather, what trees mean in a greater sense than just the biological. At first, I expected this to be similar to Rachel Carson's Silent Spring-both were written decades ago. However, this slim text is more of a set of questions rather than answers. In fact, despite the title, it could be said that trees are just the smallest portion of his purpose.
"Do we feel that unless we create evidence-photographs, journal entries, picked and pressed flowers, tape recordings, pocketed stones-we haven't actually been intimate with nature?"
Fowles was known for writing The French Lieutenant's Woman as well as other fiction titles. Here, in this book, he discusses via anecdotes the relationship between humans and nature, and the juxtaposition between nature on its own and our experience of nature. First, the introduction by Barry Lopez comfortably sets the scene, and hints that this is no simple environmental manifesto. And never does Fowles lecture about how people should view nature; rather, he talks about what nature may or may not mean in a larger sense.
For example, he talks about his childhood home where his father cultivated small garden and fruit trees. Nothing was out of place, and while it was in the city, his father managed to tame anything unruly from the garden. Clearly it was his goal to conquer the plot of land. He was the victor over it. Yet his son, Fowles, purchases property that is larger, but by no means tame. Fowles neither cultivates or cuts back, he sees no point in amending the soil, pruning the trees, and to the horror of his father, the parcel of land is wild. Is it a moral battle over who conquers the natural world? Is it nature if you've directed its every movement? Fowles doesn't presume to answer, he just asks.
In a further irony, which tells a great deal about his father, Fowles recalls how his father could walk for miles in the city, yet would only hike a few hundred meters in the countryside. The untame pastoral scene frightened him or inhibited him, likely because of its chaos. Thus, Fowles discusses chaos in nature, and how the most lovely of scenes is never the most natural. He also makes a valid point that our modern society, with three decades of hindsight added since this was written, has used film and photography to 'show' nature, making the interaction with it less urgent. How often do people seek it out? Is putting a pot of daisies on the patio nature or decor? Do we travel to faraway places to imbibe unique cocktails or are we willing to hike in a forest for no other purpose than to look? Again, he gives no condescending or judgmental answer, he just asks thought provoking questions.
Since the last few years have produced epic and beautiful DVD collections for large screen televisions, like Planet Earth, does nature seem to be something we order up on the Netflix queue or purchase at Costco? It should be noted that this is not a nature 'journal', nor a guide to trees. There are no photos or etchings to illustrate it, and that's appropriate in that Fowles doesn't feel a photograph can replicate nature satisfactorily. I enjoyed this very much, and wish that Fowles would have spent a bit more time discussing his own experiences, as well as suggested ideas for conservation and preservation.
Special thanks to Rachel Bressler and Michael McKenzie at Ecco Books for the Advance Review Copy. This title is newly released.
"Do we feel that unless we create evidence-photographs, journal entries, picked and pressed flowers, tape recordings, pocketed stones-we haven't actually been intimate with nature?"
Fowles was known for writing The French Lieutenant's Woman as well as other fiction titles. Here, in this book, he discusses via anecdotes the relationship between humans and nature, and the juxtaposition between nature on its own and our experience of nature. First, the introduction by Barry Lopez comfortably sets the scene, and hints that this is no simple environmental manifesto. And never does Fowles lecture about how people should view nature; rather, he talks about what nature may or may not mean in a larger sense.
For example, he talks about his childhood home where his father cultivated small garden and fruit trees. Nothing was out of place, and while it was in the city, his father managed to tame anything unruly from the garden. Clearly it was his goal to conquer the plot of land. He was the victor over it. Yet his son, Fowles, purchases property that is larger, but by no means tame. Fowles neither cultivates or cuts back, he sees no point in amending the soil, pruning the trees, and to the horror of his father, the parcel of land is wild. Is it a moral battle over who conquers the natural world? Is it nature if you've directed its every movement? Fowles doesn't presume to answer, he just asks.
In a further irony, which tells a great deal about his father, Fowles recalls how his father could walk for miles in the city, yet would only hike a few hundred meters in the countryside. The untame pastoral scene frightened him or inhibited him, likely because of its chaos. Thus, Fowles discusses chaos in nature, and how the most lovely of scenes is never the most natural. He also makes a valid point that our modern society, with three decades of hindsight added since this was written, has used film and photography to 'show' nature, making the interaction with it less urgent. How often do people seek it out? Is putting a pot of daisies on the patio nature or decor? Do we travel to faraway places to imbibe unique cocktails or are we willing to hike in a forest for no other purpose than to look? Again, he gives no condescending or judgmental answer, he just asks thought provoking questions.
Since the last few years have produced epic and beautiful DVD collections for large screen televisions, like Planet Earth, does nature seem to be something we order up on the Netflix queue or purchase at Costco? It should be noted that this is not a nature 'journal', nor a guide to trees. There are no photos or etchings to illustrate it, and that's appropriate in that Fowles doesn't feel a photograph can replicate nature satisfactorily. I enjoyed this very much, and wish that Fowles would have spent a bit more time discussing his own experiences, as well as suggested ideas for conservation and preservation.
Special thanks to Rachel Bressler and Michael McKenzie at Ecco Books for the Advance Review Copy. This title is newly released.
January 21, 2012
"Art and nature are siblings, branches of one tree; and nowhere more than in the continuing inexplicability of many of their processes and above all those of creation and of effect on their respective audiences. Our approach to art, as to nature, has become increasingly scientized (and dreadfully serious) during this last century."
And so on. Art is just as beautiful and unpredictable as nature is, and every try to learn how to do it or to examine it is just as futile as the labels put on species. Because "most mature artists know that great general knowledge is more a hindrance than a help. It is only innately mechanical, salami-factory novelists who set such great store by research; in nine cases out of ten what natural knowledge and imagination cannot supply is in any case precisely what needs to be left out."
Art is like a forest - every tree alike and so different that you can walk forever in it never to tire. As Umberto Eco did in his narrative forest. As every one of us does every time we discover another work of art.
And so on. Art is just as beautiful and unpredictable as nature is, and every try to learn how to do it or to examine it is just as futile as the labels put on species. Because "most mature artists know that great general knowledge is more a hindrance than a help. It is only innately mechanical, salami-factory novelists who set such great store by research; in nine cases out of ten what natural knowledge and imagination cannot supply is in any case precisely what needs to be left out."
Art is like a forest - every tree alike and so different that you can walk forever in it never to tire. As Umberto Eco did in his narrative forest. As every one of us does every time we discover another work of art.
June 29, 2020
I abandoned this book half way through - it's reminiscent of Whitman's "The Learn'd Astronomer" (with which I also vehemently disagree with) - except so so much longer.
I value some of what Fowles argues. A singular scientific understanding is not enough - but neither is the alternative he offers, that of throwing out expertise or understanding individuals, of only looking at a system.
Science fails people precisely because it pretends it has no bias - but I doubt I'll find anything criticizing the harms the medical industry has committed against women and immigrants and black people and the poor in here, nor a statement against the classist, racist, and sexist scientific machine that continues to exclude bright minds.
No, get out and take a walk through the woods, everyone - that'll write your book for you. It did for Fowles.
I value some of what Fowles argues. A singular scientific understanding is not enough - but neither is the alternative he offers, that of throwing out expertise or understanding individuals, of only looking at a system.
Science fails people precisely because it pretends it has no bias - but I doubt I'll find anything criticizing the harms the medical industry has committed against women and immigrants and black people and the poor in here, nor a statement against the classist, racist, and sexist scientific machine that continues to exclude bright minds.
No, get out and take a walk through the woods, everyone - that'll write your book for you. It did for Fowles.
February 8, 2025
третий великий альбом Фаулза - вернее хорошо иллюстрированное эссе. на сей раз о природе - ну да, в особенности о деревьях - и противостоянии ей "мыслящих термитов" с их искусством и наукой. а также, что, в общем, логично, - об отце и их непростых и причудливых отношениях, очень при этом английских.
при необходимости прикоснуться к великолепному английскому языку и самой английскости эта книжка - самое оно. правда, собственно альбом с фотографиями я, к сожалению, не раздобыл, пришлось довольствоваться переизданием одного текста.
кстати, это эссе расставляет по своим местам все, что касается якобы "антисемитизма" Фаулза (который на него пытались когда-то вскоре после его смерти повесить тогдашние недобудляне).
при необходимости прикоснуться к великолепному английскому языку и самой английскости эта книжка - самое оно. правда, собственно альбом с фотографиями я, к сожалению, не раздобыл, пришлось довольствоваться переизданием одного текста.
кстати, это эссе расставляет по своим местам все, что касается якобы "антисемитизма" Фаулза (который на него пытались когда-то вскоре после его смерти повесить тогдашние недобудляне).
November 23, 2024
Cuando empiezo un libro y, a las pocas páginas, necesito poner el mundo en silencio y solo escuchar el rumor del mar y las letras que tengo delante, ya sé que he encontrado un libro para deleitarme: qué buena prosa, cuánta palabra bien contada, qué buena meditación, qué bello cauce filosófico tengo entre manos...
De principio a fin persigue hacernos partícipe de su esencia por la observación y poder alcanzar la armonía con el entorno.
Pero las raíces de Fowles abarcan mucho más: sociología, crítica, empatía con la naturaleza, con símiles del día a día por doquier, y sabiduría compartida para conseguir un escrito que rezuma belleza y que merece ser leído una y otra vez.
Reconozco que me he visto reflejado en exceso, y agradecido por ello.
Muy recomendable.
De principio a fin persigue hacernos partícipe de su esencia por la observación y poder alcanzar la armonía con el entorno.
Pero las raíces de Fowles abarcan mucho más: sociología, crítica, empatía con la naturaleza, con símiles del día a día por doquier, y sabiduría compartida para conseguir un escrito que rezuma belleza y que merece ser leído una y otra vez.
Reconozco que me he visto reflejado en exceso, y agradecido por ello.
Muy recomendable.
January 21, 2024
Este ensayo analiza la naturaleza y nuestra relación con ella de una manera filosófica mediante analogías interesantes de los bosques con el arte y la escritura.
Fowles nos hace reflexionar sobre esa necesidad humana de poseer y controlar todo lo que habitamos y ese miedo que tenemos a todo lo que está fuera de nuestro entorno. Tal vez lo que no terminó de convencerme es que, por el hecho de tener una perspectiva "diferente a la de todos los demás", él se situa en una posición superior para hacer muchas críticas. Sin embargo, es muy rescatable la manera en la que nos invita a conocer la naturaleza de manera personal y directa, a través de nuestros propios sentidos.
Fowles nos hace reflexionar sobre esa necesidad humana de poseer y controlar todo lo que habitamos y ese miedo que tenemos a todo lo que está fuera de nuestro entorno. Tal vez lo que no terminó de convencerme es que, por el hecho de tener una perspectiva "diferente a la de todos los demás", él se situa en una posición superior para hacer muchas críticas. Sin embargo, es muy rescatable la manera en la que nos invita a conocer la naturaleza de manera personal y directa, a través de nuestros propios sentidos.
January 27, 2021
“Achieving a relationship with nature is both a science and an art, beyond mere knowledge or mere feeling alone.”
I’m glad I stayed with this short book through it’s entirety. It’s not a book that can be skimmed. I had to devote time to read and think, and take breaks, and go back to reread, and use my dictionary. All good things.
I picked up this book to read because the title and front artwork led me to believe the author might be a fellow tree lover, telling stories of individual magnificent trees. It was not that at all. But about nature as a whole living breathing unit intersecting with art and science and the human experience. All of it together, not separate.
At the very end of the book he does give a very rich, detailed account of entering Wistman’s Wood in Southern England.
I’m glad I stayed with this short book through it’s entirety. It’s not a book that can be skimmed. I had to devote time to read and think, and take breaks, and go back to reread, and use my dictionary. All good things.
I picked up this book to read because the title and front artwork led me to believe the author might be a fellow tree lover, telling stories of individual magnificent trees. It was not that at all. But about nature as a whole living breathing unit intersecting with art and science and the human experience. All of it together, not separate.
At the very end of the book he does give a very rich, detailed account of entering Wistman’s Wood in Southern England.
May 24, 2021
the underlying impression was Fowles's view of the sterility of science, which was interesting as perhaps nowadays we're used to the rhetoric of the science vs religion argument/debate but here the discussion is science is a bad replica of nature, and of science in comparison to the arts, or the creative process. I enjoyed his pessimism and of course the realisation that being in nature is something beyond replication.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 227 reviews