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A review by wellworn_soles
The Overstory by Richard Powers
2.0
There was a comic, back in the mid 2010s, that used to float around in my online social circles. I don’t recall the exact wording, but in it, the main character is crestfallen by humanity’s environmental destruction. “We’re ruining the planet!” he says. Then a character representing the Earth answers him with “yes, but only for you. You are making a world you cannot inhabit. That is all.” I remember this being a kind of awakening for me in my senior year of high school. There are organisms thriving in the depths of undersea volcanoes. Tardigrades can survive the vacuum of space. Life won’t be killed off by us - we aren’t as all-powerful as that. At worst, we will just destroy our own chances at living.
This is my second book by Powers, and I will say that it is definitely better than the first, [b:Orfeo|23613|Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, and Sir Orfeo|Unknown|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1354555703l/23613._SY75_.jpg|15068023]. Beyond that, I'm irresolute. Its theme runs parallel to the comic I summarized above: a kind of bleak positivity, that argues that although life will find a way, we should try our hardest to protect the garden we’ve been given. It’s a position I whole-heartedly agree with. I wonder if - had I read this earlier in my life, with fewer works covering some of these themes under my belt - if it would have wowed me more. As it is, I came away from this book feeling it hadn't quite earned its length.
There's some good writing here, along with some writing that makes me roll my eyes with its pretension. As I found with Orfeo, despite (or because) of everything Powers lobs at his writing, it sometimes arcs past the sublime and right into turgidity. Try this one on for size:
To me, this sounds like a high school rough draft. The grandiloquence for such a simple idea isn't earned; it just feels like an attempt to show off. This sort of fustian phrasing harries Powers writing (at one point he describes a grin as "cophrophagic" instead of plain old "shit-eating", which kinda epitomizes my point). A master of the craft knows how to flex the muscle of their language choice with precision. While Powers does have periods of vaulting into beauty, it's clear to me that he has a buckshot approach: if he just sprays it in a wide enough arc, some of his shots will hit their mark.
Tangentially, I just... am so tired of affected academic male authors. Some of the sentences discussing women in this are downright laughable. They yanked me out of the story each time. Some examples:
The last quote is about a female protester getting pepper-sprayed while the man infatuated with her (the narrator) watches helplessly. I’ll come out and say it: I didn’t need that last line. Not only is it jarring and downright ugly, it detracts from the emotional weight of the story beat.
There's something here, also, that I see in this "type" of author that I can't quite put my finger on. It's a type of sexism covered by a veneer of progressivism; Power's women are objectified, their lesbian relationships oggled by male characters, but in this sort of poetic, lauding way that I suppose is intended to keep it from being labeled objectification. But the hallowed ideal of the cult of domesticity was just as damaging to women as the denigration of the coquette. Your sexism isn't better if it is couched in longing and frilly words.
But enough of my nitpicking. I really want it to be known that I gave this book a fair shot - and despite my earlier paragraphs, there were bits I liked. The entire first section of the book is easily its most narratively inventive. The series of vignettes covers characters whose lives are woven to trees in some way. The characters, if only loosely sketched in these first pieces, serve as launchpads for intriguing thematic parallels - the blight of the American Chestnut mirrored by the accidental poisoning of an entire family, branching trees compared to branching programs and AI, forest communities that protect themselves by calling insect defenses just like the activists call to save the trees. Most of this work, unfortunately, is done in the first part, and the rest of the “branching” in the novel doesn’t add much more in this vein. The highest point of tension happens in the second half, with nothing else reaching it, despite a few attempts to do so. The third and fourth acts feel like elongated epilogues.
The characters range from fine to generic. Some are developed into full characters, while others are left at the wayside. Nick, Patricia, Mimi and Douglas have marked character arcs, while Neelay, Adam and especially the Brinkman’s feel tacked on and only partially-realized. Patricia’s story specifically had its knees cut at the base because I had recently read Suzanne Simard’s memoir, whom the character is heavily based off of and who shares many of her story beats. That’s not really the author’s fault, but it did influence my engagement. Unfortunately, nothing in this novel grabbed and held me, which is surprising considering the fact that I’m a huge advocate for trees and sympathetic to all the themes and ideas that course through Powers' book.
One theme Powers routinely returns to is the power of story. Facts and figures will not mobilize people - we need meaning, a mythos, to give focus and value to the battle to save our environment. He writes,
Maybe this was his attempt to create some "lost people" whose story could galvanize change here, in the real world. Maybe not. I don't claim to know if that was his goal. Regardless, I can see how this book may succeed in doing that, for some. For me, that wild, paradigm-shifting story is still struggling to be born. 2.5 stars.
This is my second book by Powers, and I will say that it is definitely better than the first, [b:Orfeo|23613|Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, and Sir Orfeo|Unknown|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1354555703l/23613._SY75_.jpg|15068023]. Beyond that, I'm irresolute. Its theme runs parallel to the comic I summarized above: a kind of bleak positivity, that argues that although life will find a way, we should try our hardest to protect the garden we’ve been given. It’s a position I whole-heartedly agree with. I wonder if - had I read this earlier in my life, with fewer works covering some of these themes under my belt - if it would have wowed me more. As it is, I came away from this book feeling it hadn't quite earned its length.
There's some good writing here, along with some writing that makes me roll my eyes with its pretension. As I found with Orfeo, despite (or because) of everything Powers lobs at his writing, it sometimes arcs past the sublime and right into turgidity. Try this one on for size:
"But there is, of course, no freedom. There are only ancient prophecies that scry the seeds of time and say which will grow and which will not." (p.64)
To me, this sounds like a high school rough draft. The grandiloquence for such a simple idea isn't earned; it just feels like an attempt to show off. This sort of fustian phrasing harries Powers writing (at one point he describes a grin as "cophrophagic" instead of plain old "shit-eating", which kinda epitomizes my point). A master of the craft knows how to flex the muscle of their language choice with precision. While Powers does have periods of vaulting into beauty, it's clear to me that he has a buckshot approach: if he just sprays it in a wide enough arc, some of his shots will hit their mark.
Tangentially, I just... am so tired of affected academic male authors. Some of the sentences discussing women in this are downright laughable. They yanked me out of the story each time. Some examples:
1:"Her laugh propels her, helps her balance, and she sails off across the floorboards, her tits glowing like precious pearls." (p. 150) - What the hell did I just read?
2:"He sees the officers flanking her, the uniformed men bending down from behind and taking her head in a loving embrace. Gangbanged in the eyes by three guys." (p. 302) - UMMMMMM????
The last quote is about a female protester getting pepper-sprayed while the man infatuated with her (the narrator) watches helplessly. I’ll come out and say it: I didn’t need that last line. Not only is it jarring and downright ugly, it detracts from the emotional weight of the story beat.
There's something here, also, that I see in this "type" of author that I can't quite put my finger on. It's a type of sexism covered by a veneer of progressivism; Power's women are objectified, their lesbian relationships oggled by male characters, but in this sort of poetic, lauding way that I suppose is intended to keep it from being labeled objectification. But the hallowed ideal of the cult of domesticity was just as damaging to women as the denigration of the coquette. Your sexism isn't better if it is couched in longing and frilly words.
But enough of my nitpicking. I really want it to be known that I gave this book a fair shot - and despite my earlier paragraphs, there were bits I liked. The entire first section of the book is easily its most narratively inventive. The series of vignettes covers characters whose lives are woven to trees in some way. The characters, if only loosely sketched in these first pieces, serve as launchpads for intriguing thematic parallels - the blight of the American Chestnut mirrored by the accidental poisoning of an entire family, branching trees compared to branching programs and AI, forest communities that protect themselves by calling insect defenses just like the activists call to save the trees. Most of this work, unfortunately, is done in the first part, and the rest of the “branching” in the novel doesn’t add much more in this vein. The highest point of tension happens in the second half, with nothing else reaching it, despite a few attempts to do so. The third and fourth acts feel like elongated epilogues.
The characters range from fine to generic. Some are developed into full characters, while others are left at the wayside. Nick, Patricia, Mimi and Douglas have marked character arcs, while Neelay, Adam and especially the Brinkman’s feel tacked on and only partially-realized. Patricia’s story specifically had its knees cut at the base because I had recently read Suzanne Simard’s memoir, whom the character is heavily based off of and who shares many of her story beats. That’s not really the author’s fault, but it did influence my engagement. Unfortunately, nothing in this novel grabbed and held me, which is surprising considering the fact that I’m a huge advocate for trees and sympathetic to all the themes and ideas that course through Powers' book.
One theme Powers routinely returns to is the power of story. Facts and figures will not mobilize people - we need meaning, a mythos, to give focus and value to the battle to save our environment. He writes,
"To be human is to confuse a satisfying story with a meaningful one, and to mistake life for something huge with two legs. No; life is mobilized on a vastly larger scale, and the world is failing precisely because no novel can make the contest for the world seem as compelling as the struggles between a few lost people."
Maybe this was his attempt to create some "lost people" whose story could galvanize change here, in the real world. Maybe not. I don't claim to know if that was his goal. Regardless, I can see how this book may succeed in doing that, for some. For me, that wild, paradigm-shifting story is still struggling to be born. 2.5 stars.