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A review by safsaf118
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
I was enthralled every second of the story. This was like a slow burn, I really took my time reading it because I never wanted it to end. Tracing the life of Frances growing older, but also taking a step back and telling the story of her parents only made it more painful. This captures the growing pains of when your dreams are too big for the life you have, and the cost of always wanting more.
"The night was heady and frosty. There was no wind and the air was cold and still. The stars
were brilliant and hung low in the sky. There were so many stars that their light made the sky a
deep cobalt blue. There wasn't a moon but the starlight served better than moonlight. Francie stood on tiptoe and stretched her arms wide. 'Oh, I want to hold it all!' she cried. 'I want
to hold the way the night is-cold without wind. And the way the stars are so near and shiny. I
want to hold all of it tight until it hollers out, 'Let me go! Let me go!''"
"'Dear God,' she prayed, 'let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be
gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry ... have too much to eat.
Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere-be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be
a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And
when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.'"
"The night was heady and frosty. There was no wind and the air was cold and still. The stars
were brilliant and hung low in the sky. There were so many stars that their light made the sky a
deep cobalt blue. There wasn't a moon but the starlight served better than moonlight. Francie stood on tiptoe and stretched her arms wide. 'Oh, I want to hold it all!' she cried. 'I want
to hold the way the night is-cold without wind. And the way the stars are so near and shiny. I
want to hold all of it tight until it hollers out, 'Let me go! Let me go!''"
"'Dear God,' she prayed, 'let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be
gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry ... have too much to eat.
Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere-be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be
a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And
when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.'"