The Trees The Trees
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The Trees The Trees
'Heather Christle's poems may well be one of the places readers turn when they want to know what it was like to be young and paying attention in the early 21st century . . . Her poems are wide awake' Mark Doty In The Trees The Trees, each new line is a sharp turn toward joy and heartbreak, and each poem unfolds like a bat through the wild meaninglessness of the world.
The Trees
Author: Ali Shaw
language: en
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing USA
Release Date: 2016-08-02
The Trees. They arrived in the night: wrenching through the ground, thundering up into the air, and turning Adrien's suburban street into a shadowy forest. Shocked by the sight but determined to get some answers, he ventures out, passing destroyed buildings, felled power lines, and broken bodies still wrapped in tattered bed linens hanging from branches. It is soon apparent that no help is coming and that these trees, which seem the work of centuries rather than hours, span far beyond the town. As far, perhaps, as the coast, where across the sea in Ireland, Adrien's wife is away on a business trip and there is no way of knowing whether she is alive or dead. When Adrien meets Hannah, a woman who, unlike him, believes that the coming of the trees may signal renewal rather than destruction and Seb, her technology-obsessed son, they persuade him to join them. Together, they pack up what remains of the lives they once had and set out on a quest to find Hannah's forester brother and Adrien's wife--and to discover just how deep the forest goes. Their journey through the trees will take them into unimaginable territory: to a place of terrible beauty and violence, of deadly enemies and unexpected allies, to the dark heart of nature and the darkness--and also the power--inside themselves.
Trees
The beauty of a knotty oak tree is different from that of a lovely flower. It is the rough beauty of an old soldier's face showing the traces of wind and sun, of harm and of victory, bearing the scars of bygone battles. It is different from the fragile, delicate beauty of a young girl which is evident to anyone at first sight. The beauty of an old and crippled tree is hidden unless perceived by the alert eye which is able to fancy or rather discern the hard trials of life the tree has ex perienced. Contemplating trees in this way is not much different from busying oneself with physiognomies, i.e. with the art of judging character from the features of the human face. Physiognomies is often considered a dubious science, but is prac ticed every day in human communication by everybody from early childhood to old age. Although we all are able to discern the angrily furrowed brow, the laughing crow's-feet below the eyes, the arrogant harsh lines around the nose, the hard narrow mouth, the gluttonous lip, and the secret eye of the silent ob server, we would never admit to rely on such seemingly doubtful methods.