Lou's Reviews > The Man Whom the Trees Loved

The Man Whom the Trees Loved by Algernon Blackwood
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Oct 30, 12

it was amazing
bookshelves: paranormal, classics, horror
Read from December 08 to 28, 2011

This author does atmosphere eeriness and melancholy well. This story is an example of some of his splendid works. Blackwood is a master word user and writes with wonderful prose.
There is one painter who has an obsession with the plant world, trees in particular. He loves them more than just artistically.
Does there exist in plants a faint copy of what we know as consciousness in ourselves?
It seems that he the husband Mr Bittacy the painter of trees an artist does believe so.
His wife the main protagonist is at her wits end she is a woman of God and is loosing her husband to the forest and his love of it and it's love of him. You feel the wifes love and battle for her husband and this really turns the story into a sad and touching story.

"Mrs Bittacy had balance, sanity, and a fine deep faith. She was greater than she knew. Her love for her husband and her God were somehow one, an achievement only possible to a single hearted nobility of soul."

"She never lost knowledge of the fact that the leagues of Forest lay about their cottage like a mighty wall, a crowding, watching, listening presence that shut them in from freedom and escape."

"It was growing the thought startled her horribly just as a tree grows, the outer evidence from day to day so slight as to be unnoticeable, yet the rising tide so deep and irresistible. The alteration spread all through and over him, was in both mind and actions, sometimes almost in his face as well. Occasionally, thus, it stood up straight outside himself and frightened her. His life was somehow becoming linked so intimately with trees, and with all that trees signified. His interests became more and more their interests, his activity combined with theirs, his thoughts and feelings theirs, his purpose, hope, desire, his fate-
His fate! The darkness of some vague, enormous terror dropped its shadow on her when she thought of it. Some instinct in her heart she dreaded infinitely more than death for death meant sweet translation for his soul came gradually to associate the thought of him with the thought of trees, in particular with these Forest trees. Sometimes, before she could face the thing, argue it away, or pray it into silence, she found the thought of him running swiftly through her mind like a thought of the Forest itself, the two most intimately linked and joined together, each a part and complement of the other, one being."
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