Hannah Greendale (Hello, Bookworm)'s Reviews > The Overstory

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Richard Powers’ structural approach to The Overstory breaks with traditional plotting. The result is two books in one, each designed to appeal to a different type of reader. The flaw in this approach is that the book either reads like a literary triumph that starts slow then builds to something satiating, or it reads like a bait-and-switch with a breathtaking start followed by a wearisome and long-winded trek to the conclusion.

Part 1 (called “Roots”) reads like a magnificent short story collection. The backstory and exposition that would normally be woven throughout a book is delivered in several rousing anecdotes. Nine protagonists are introduced, their stories ranging from sweeping multi-generational sagas to brief glimpses into their private lives. These characters remain separate in “Roots,” yet their stories are united by meaningful interaction with trees. Each of their stories arrives at an arresting climax before Powers hits the pause button.

“Roots” will likely appeal to fans of 4 3 2 1 by Paul Auster or The Sport of Kings by C. E. Morgan. The remaining three-fourths of the book, however, are something else entirely.

Parts 2 through 4 (called “Trunk,” “Crown,” and “Seed,” respectively) sees these nine characters being inextricably drawn together. Their lives entangle, their shared interests and unique experiences with trees drive their actions. This portion of the book is arguably slower, with fewer revelations about the characters and more attention dedicated to exploring themes. Powers pulls back the curtain to introduce trees as a tenth character and forces us to examine our role in, and relationship to, nature.

All ten characters share similar beliefs, fight for the same causes, face the same external conflict (while wrestling with minimal or no internal conflict), and everyone gets along. It’s a startling contrast to the first part of the book; a harrowing and captivating intro that promises heartbreak and drama, followed by a stagnant alternative book in which the captivating backstories have very little bearing on the overall narrative.

At times, Powers’ writing is as beautiful and wondrous as nature, and his messages about activism and resistance are poignant but, ultimately, his execution is uneven and the final product is a book bloated with redundant characters.

The bends in the alders speak of long-ago disasters. Spikes of pale chinquapin flowers shake down their pollen; soon they will turn into spiny fruits. Poplars repeat the wind's gossip. Persimmons and walnuts set out their bribes and rowans their blood-red clusters. Ancient oaks wave prophecies of future weather. The several hundred kinds of hawthorn laugh at the single name their forced to share.