(Note that this review is late in coming - this book was published nine years ago)
Chances
are, too, that you will stop and want to linger. You may want to get closer to
the trees and examine the bark. You might want to dig your fingers into the
earth, or peer high into the canopy.
Not only
will you see and hear things differently, after reading Wohllenben’s book you
may also be able to visualise the vast network of roots, fungi, and mycelium
that exists underground, out of sight.
Wohllenben’s
book has certainly gained wide attention – it has sold more than three million
copies worldwide and been translated into more than twenty languages.
Whilst it
has gained an appreciative lay readership, it has not been without its critics in
the scientific community. Some have criticised the book for its use of
anthropomorphic language. For example, some of the book’s chapters are titled, Tree
School, Community Housing Projects, Hibernation, Street Kids, Immigrants
etc, all as epithets for aspects of forests and/or trees.
Although
it is possible to understand this criticism, it is, in this reviewer’s mind, unfair,
or at least misplaced. This book is undoubtedly written for the layperson, a
person who may know little or nothing about the workings of forests. It is
clearly not written as a scientific treatise. Had it been written in scientific,
unemotional language it would not have been bought by three million readers.
Wohllenben
outlines in the first few pages his intention in writing the book. He states, ‘This
book is a lens to help you take a closer look at what you might have taken for
granted. Slow down, breathe deep, and look around. What can you hear? What do
you see? How do you feel?’ He’s upfront. This is written for those unused
to analysing what is going on in a forest. It is written to evoke an emotional
response. And – it works.
By writing
in the way he does, using what we understand to be human feelings, behaviours,
and functions, Wohllenben helps the reader associate with forests and trees. In
one sense the criticism of anthropomorphism becomes a two-edged sword. Can we
really say that trees do not have feelings, do not behave in ways that humans
might, or that trees do not communicate with and look after one another? To say
that they do not and try to write of trees and forests in neutral terms is
itself an anthropocentric rendition. Many indigenous languages and cultures
worldwide do not name trees, streams, mountains, and other living creatures in
the third person – i.e. as it. For many, these entities are imbued with
the same energies and sacred attributes as are humans.
In the
final few pages Wohllenben addresses the divide between humans and non-humans. He
states, ‘I, for one, welcome breaking down the moral barriers between
animals and plants. When the capabilities of vegetative beings become known,
and their emotional lives and needs are recognized, then the way we treat
plants will gradually change as well.’
Perhaps
the sooner we come to appreciate trees and other entities in the same ways we
value ourselves, the sooner we might desist in destroying nature and the planet
in which we live.
So, my
suggestion as reviewer, is to ignore any criticism you may have heard, go with
the flow and recognise you in the trees and the trees in you.
For
myself, as someone who had previously come across some of the concepts
Wohllenben writes of, I found this book illuminating and enjoyable. I learnt a
lot more about trees and forests than I knew before I read page 1. I learnt
something of myself also.
The final
words I will leave to Peter Wohllenben himself, they are also the final words
he writes in the Acknowledgments section.
‘Only
people who understand trees are capable of protecting them.’
Note:
1. Peter
Wohlleben, The Hidden Life of Trees, Black Inc., Collingwood VIC,
Australia, 2016
