Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak; 4 stars

[Amy]

This book has been well loved by many. 5 stars, top ten. I so wonderfully loved Elif Shefak’s book, the Three Daughters of Eve. (Was Three in the title? Was it Daughters of Eve?) I wondered why it was hard for me to engage. We all know that I really don’t like how a flood of “rave reviews” affects me. It sets the expectation too high, and then I fear the book will not meet it. It’s also hard when you are the recommender of books to the book group. I feel the pressure. I want it to be good for them. I want them to enjoy it, and for it to lead to a good discussion. I care about that. I think we all do.

The book is narrated by three points of view. London, 2010, a man and his daughter, Cyprus 1974, the same man earlier in time and his later wife, and a fig tree. I admit I felt tested by that. Earlier this year, a book with a huge rave following, had a few chapters narrated by a dog named Six-Thirty. I did not care for that. I fully expected to be troubled by the narrative point of view of an Octopus named Marcellus, (for whom the literary world is falling in love) but actually I loved that. But the fig tree? I was having trouble connecting. I think this narration essence doesn’t become revealed or understood until the end of the book, and that revelation did add a depth and a beauty to it, but it was almost too late for me. That element would not have worked earlier in the book, and yet I still fear it came too late to nourish my experience.

The plot line had some gaps, some unanswered questions, and I think that was rather intentional. But I am left still not knowing or understanding certain portions, and I think that is somehow meant to mirror the experience of the daughter as opposed to the fig tree, who must also have gaps as well. But that had a bit of an unsettling feeling. I did “get” the theme of the fresh cutting being taken away from Cyprus to England, for a potential new start, our of ruins and war and disease being a metaphor for what Defne and Kostos, particularly Defne was trying to achieve. And the burying of a tree and the unburying of bodies – the reclamation of family and love, I understood all those themes and how they worked together, roots and sky, tradition and modernization. I got all that. There is a brilliance to the book, and yet I didn’t love it.

I did spend though, a lot of time thinking about my essay on the trees. Which is also missing in a way, and has become a thing of the past. I wrote it in the year 2000, during the time I was desperate to get pregnant and couldn’t for reasons no one understood. For reasons I can’t even dare to explain now, it felt important to me to write what I knew about the deeper meanings of the Jewish Holidays, to teach maybe, to keep those insights close, and I wrote this whole essay on Trees, and the meaning of the Jewish Holiday, Tu B’Shevat. Actually, it was about women and Trees – how women and trees were connected. It was probably about mothering and preparing to mother. Fig Trees I knew were significant, the fig being one of the four fruits of the holiday, and one of the seven species of Israel. The four fruits as I recall, were the four kind of people, and I guess experiences. The fig was soft on the outside as well as the center, while there is a fruit that is soft on the outside but hard on the inside. Something that has a hard nut inside like an avocado or something. I believe the fruit that was hard on the outside as well as the inside (also a big nut) may have been the coconut. And the fruit that was hard on the outside, yet soft on the inside also grows in Israel, and it’s called a Sabra. This indigenous fruit is how Israel’s see themselves, and they call themselves Sabras. Tough on the outside, but soft and sweet on the inside, just like their own fruit.

I was desperate for finding the essay – to go along with the book. And my friend HayJay from Goodreads, she wanted it too. And I sensed she would really love it. So I searched my computer files, and when I unearthed it, its “locked.” I am low tech – most people who know me, know this. I think that whatever software I was using in 2000, is so outdated that it can no longer be accessed. I was disappointed. But still, I think there might be three chances in the basement. I haven’t really been down there much this month. My three sons have been “living” down there, between the computer, the Xboxes, the large screen TV, and then my middle son having Covid last week, my oldest home from school has been sleeping on the couch down there, displaced from the bedroom they share. Displaced from school, and then from his room. He vacates us today, not to return home until a couple of weeks before the bar mitzvah when he goes missing again during those few weeks. He plans to turn up for high school graduation and bar mitzvah weekend, and then disappears for the entire summer. My apples are falling, and this is hard for a deeply feeling tree that would have liked the bloom to last forever. Anyway, this forlorn essay that is older than my boy who is turning 20 by at least two or so years, might be in three places. There might be a paper copy in an old file called Jewish Holidays or such. Might even just say Jewish. It might be on the old computer which is not so updated and therefore might even be able to print, or copy and send. It might be in the desktop file that my old journals live in, and as I printed the first 15 pages, it might even be printed. That old computer is my best shot. It is definitely past the floppy disk stage, but not far past. I wonder what it would mean to find it, and send it to HayJay and maybe also Anita and Fran, so they understand the deep connection to February, as winter and women and trees are all connected – that’s why this is a February holiday. And this is a reference only some of my Goodreads friends will understand, but its why I am posting the review (and birthday candle) a day late on February 1st, because its just about Tu B’Shevat, and its London.

So if I should find the essay, what shall I do with it? It certainly carries the theme of “unearthing”, and un-burying the tree – or the tree essay. It certainly relates to the unconscious of a woman and what we do in Winter. And how we bear fruit. And stay connected at our roots, and are simultaneous sky and earth and the connection between. I think it has something to do with my son turning 20 in just a few weeks and leaving us this morning. I told another college friend mom recently, that it gets easier. But as my tears fall, I think somehow it does not. Which makes me somehow think of my own mother, and how she must feel we are very far away, and I think whether she likes it or not, is feeling her age. Yes, there is a lot in this review about trees and women too. And memory and loss, and new life, and evolution. So my missing essay has felt like a gap, although I may have possibly re-created a little of its essence, much like the displaced fig tree in the book, which carries its memory forward. I will say though, that one thing I loved, was the image of the tree growing in the tavern. With all the life around it. Incongruous and yet natural. There is a photo I have from Israel in July, where there is a tree growing inside a building, in Tzvat, and its wonderful and natural. I remember somewhere in the world an atrium in a hotel with trees. I love the trees connecting the natural world to our bustling material vibrant lives. So the tree in the tavern somehow worked and was a beautiful image to me. The birds were similar too, indoor and outdoor intertwined.

So how to end the review. Does anything ever end in the natural world? I daresay it does not. But I can find a close to the chapter, or to the rambling thoughts. Let’s just say that this tree needs to turn her attention to her young and grown figs – and be present for the sweetness, for however long it lasts. To enjoy its temporal pleasure and connection, and live in the memory and still experience of vibrant blooming and inevitable if small continuation of growth.

*Two things happened. #1, I found the essay from 2000. It was in hard form, and I can figure out how to send it by scan and send to anyone who feels they have to see it.

#2 - The book group helped me love and appreciate this book so much more.

[Shelly]

Amy I would love to read your essay. So glad this book was extra meaningful to you b/c of this connection. The tree survived because someone cared deeply about the tree, and it seems your essay survived for the same reason.

[Amy]

Shelly, that is so beautiful! I will totally send you the essay when I can figure out how to scan it in. Thank you for wanting to read it. I think you would love it. Isn't it Tu B'Shevat today? I know how much you love nature and trees.