The Trees
The Trees by Percival Everett didn’t win the Booker this year — but it did make the short list. And not that I am a Booker judge and not that I even read every other finalist — but it was important and deserving that it was on that list. I can’t even begin to think of another book I’ve read quite like it.
What Everett has somehow done is weave tragedy and don’t-try-to-argue-with-it social commentary with snarky humor. A spate of murders is happening — not just in Money, Mississippi, where the majority of The Trees takes place, but across the country — and someone who *very coincidentally* resembles Emmett Till ends up being present at every crime scene. He appears to be dead as well — until the body somehow escapes and then reappears at the next crime scene.
I’m going to tell you like it is: The people of Money are crude, dull, gross, uneducated, lazy, racist, and often have ridiculous names. Take every stereotype about rural, white Mississippi and notch it up to 11. I know, we as readers are trained to look for nuance in characters, right? A lot of The Trees reminded me of early Barbara Kingsolver…remember The Bean Trees and its “quirky characters” and Jesus is Lord Used Tires? Unlike Kingsolver, though, Everett doesn’t attempt to surprise readers with glimpses of morality or depth in unexpected people. And, no, of course he didn’t write Money and its residents this way due to lack of skill or unwillingness to mine deeper. It’s practiced caricature, and a few chapters into the book it occurred to me that perhaps he was doing this in order to turn the tables on what has so consistently been done to Black people in arts and media. (Turns out that this book’s review in The Guardian refers to Everett’s depiction of Money as “almost like a reverse minstrel show.”)
Absolutely read The Trees for its content, but pay attention to Everett’s satirical ingenuity as well. Sardonic and “fun” writing need not be shallow. In fact, it might be one of a writer’s most effective tools.
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