A no good very bad children’s book
I hope I don’t step on your toes by saying this, but I don’t like Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree.” It’s a story about a little boy and a tree, and it is a cautionary tale for anyone who wants to know what an unhealthy relationship looks like! Let’s take a look:
The tree and the boy love each other, and the story follows them as they share their love. The little boy loves to climb the tree, swing from her boughs, and rest in her shade. The tree simply loves to be with the boy, to share her life with him.
So far, so good.
But then the tree and the boy both make some unfortunate choices. When the boy grows older and needs a house, the tree offers her branches for lumber. When the boy wants to go away on an adventure, she gives her trunk for a boat. Finally, when the boy returns from his adventure–now an old man–the tree is nothing but a stump, and she feels sorry that she has nothing left to offer the boy. But he realizes that she can still give him one thing: he sits on her, and rests, and the tree is happy again.
Oh boy! There are some problems in this relationship. For one thing, the tree can’t be a tree in her relationship with the boy. She has to diminish herself to stay connected to him. Each time he comes to her, she feels compelled to give him something, and she gives in to this feeling every time. You could argue that she receives a gift in her giving…she feels useful, she is gratified that she can help him, she is delighted that she can express her love in such clear ways. Well, OK…but the fact remains that the core of their relationship is her giving him things. Now don’t get me wrong: gifts are good, giving is good, and there’s nothing inherently wrong in the tree’s affection for the boy, or her urge to relate to him with a giving spirit. But you can see how she took this good thing too far–so far that she destroyed herself.
And consider the boy, who is called a “little boy” even when he’s an old man. (This is a telling detail.) He doesn’t have an adult relationship with the tree. For instance, when she offers him her branches, it doesn’t occur to the boy how self-destructive this gift is. To accept it is to agree to a transaction that destroys the tree. Doesn’t sound very loving to me. And it only gets worse: to meet his own needs, he allows the tree to be chopped down to a stump. Ouch. It would be harder for him to refuse these gifts, harder not just because he would have to make more of an effort to meet his own needs, but also because it’s always hard to refuse a gift that is motivated by kindness but is nevertheless unhealthy, unwise. Imagine telling your partner, no, I cannot accept your gift. I appreciate your kindness, but I have to meet this need myself. Only full-grown men and women can do that!
My alternate story of the Giving Tree would go something like this: the boy and the tree would love each other, the boy playing in her branches, the tree enjoying the boy’s fun presence. Later, as the boy became a man, he would meet a human companion, also full-grown, and together they would live out their lives in the shade of the tree, relating to one another–and the tree–with reverence, with respect. And now and then, all three of them would meet their own needs. That’s what I would call a “happily ever after” story.
