Melanie posted not long ago about books that you discover you love by chance - not just little known novels, but discovering in famous novels something that surprises you with its truth, even though you've heard all your life how great this book is. And I just had one of those experiences with Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,
after going through a reading dry spell.
I know this is a book you are supposed to have read and
fallen in love with as a young teen, but when I first picked it up years ago I couldn’t
stick with it. It seemed syrupy and plotless. I never got past the first 20
pages.
But it is on enough lists of favorites that when I saw it on
the shelf at the library, I finally decided to give it a second chance and checked it
out.
And of course, I’m glad I did, or I wouldn’t be writing
about it. This time around it resonated,
even though I never felt I adopted Francie Nolan’s character, like I might have as an adolescent. Maybe I am just in the right frame of mind to
read this kind of episodic story. I have
only had time to read in snatches lately. Also, the setting is easier for me to
place compared to the first time I picked this book up: I’ve been to Brooklyn,
I’ve learned more about this period before the world wars, I’ve witnessed more
poverty. Maybe I’m in a sentimental time
of month. The writing isn’t especially
beautiful, or complex. If it weren’t for some of the subject matter, it would
rightly be a children’s book. Whatever the reason, I found myself craving time
with the Nolans when I was supposed to be doing other things. Time for a hide
in the bathroom…
To be honest, it wasn’t Francie with whom I identified, it
was Francie’s mother Katie. I wanted to see what happened to her as much as
anyone. She doesn’t hide her cynicism, but neither does she hide her
willingness to do what she must. Francie’s
parents are the kind of people who hoped to get somewhere, or at least to have
love and music in their lives, but instead got stuck because of drink and tough
times. It may seem clichéd now to write about a drunken Irishman whose zest for
love and songs makes people love and pity him, but Johnnie Nolan doesn't come across as a cliche. His bravado in pulling himself together to get Francie into the better school in the next neighborhood
over proved his desire to help his daughter.
But it was Francie’s mother who
pulled at my heart strings, even though Francie doesn’t love her as much as her
father. I loved the way she was so
matter-of-fact about the earthy side of life (for instance, when she talks to
Francie about love “as a mother and as a woman”), but also committed to pulling
the family up out of the dirt – the “sordid” life that Francie’s teacher
encourages her not to write about. And
the way she is willing to celebrate when something needs celebrating, even
though most of the time she’s so frugal. And you have to admire her dedication
to reading Scripture and Shakespeare before bed every night. Francie may have
thought she loved Neeley better, but it’s clear that Katie believes in Francie.
I also liked the way Francie’s mother and aunts supported each other even
though they made such bad choices with men. The details about the relationships
between women, mothers and daughters and sisters, are the richest part of the
book.
Finally, this book provided another path for reminiscing about my grandmother who died in the spring. It brought back the stories my grandmother used to tell about her
adolescence. She would have been about 10 years younger than Francie, and although
she wasn’t so poor, she still had to share a room with a grandmother, go to
work to earn money for school, and witness her parents’ loveless marriage. Nonetheless, she had a lot of zest for life.
I want to pull out a trite message: each generation’s
standard of living has improved through hard work and perseverance – and the
saving power of imagination. But the book also celebrates the catholic belief
that life and love are worth are the suffering they beget and sustain and
undergo. I’m rereading Oedipus the King
right now, who cries out better not to have been born at all than to suffer
such a horrible fate. But the Nolans
survive a lot of tragedy and don’t lose their love for each other or for life. Katie
seems at time to want to give in to despair, but she holds onto her love for
her family to keep her looking forward. And eventually her suffering does
lessen. She finally, like the good
policeman Mr. McShane, is as happy as she deserves to be. Just like her
daughter will be.
