Wishtree

“Of course, there are exceptions to the name rule. Somewhere in Los Angeles there’s a palm tree who insists on being called Karma, but you know how Californians can be.”

In these humorous lines, Red shows that they are wise to the foibles and culture of humans. In their 216 years on earth, Red can therefore comfortably make jokes such as this one. These jokes ingratiate the reader to Red, and also challenges the wisdom of humans as they playfully portray a tree trying on human vanity for size.  

“Wishtrees have a long and honorable history, going back centuries. There are many in Ireland, where they are usually hawthorns or the occasional ash tree. But you can find wishtrees all over the world.” 

Red gives some background into their role and identity in the neighborhood. They simultaneously ground the wishtree in Irish tradition, while also nodding to the wishtree as a universal, widespread idea. This is important to the thematic development of the tale, as one of the narrative’s messages is that while human beings should celebrate and embrace the differences that exist amongst them and their own unique cultural identities, they ultimately have more in common with each other than they have differences. 

“We disagree sometimes, but that is the way of all friends, no matter their species. I’ve seen many surprising friendships during my life: a pony and a toad, a red-tailed hawk and a white-footed mouse, a lilac bush and a monarch butterfly. All of them had disagreements from time to time.” 

Red discusses their relationship with animals within the natural world. These lines prefigure and foreshadow the human drama that the tale will relay. Just as, in nature, there are rivalries and conflicting interests, so there are in human life. But, as in nature, human lives have the ability to become unpredictable, and unlikely alliances and friendships can and should be a surprising and beautiful part of both human life and the life of the natural world. 

“I am an optimist. I prefer to take the long view on life. Old as I am, I’ve seen both good and bad. But I’ve seen far more good than bad.”

Here, Red reveals the source of their wisdom. Their non-human life as a passive observer has spread over two centuries. And over those two centuries, they have had their fill of complex experiences. Over and above them all, their experiences have taught them that the good in humans and the natural world outweighs the bad. 

“Lots of other trees, like me, are called ‘monoecious.’ That’s just a fancy way of saying that on the same plant you’ll find separate male and female flowers. It’s also evidence that trees have far more interesting lives than you sometimes give us credit for.”

In these lines, Red sneaks in a bit of didacticism, which they do periodically throughout the narrative. There are recurring asides in which Red informs their reader of a technical or specialized scientific term, while also defining said term in a conversational manner. The defining of these terms is meant to increase the respect that the reader has for nature, as well as create a respectful nod to human science. Here, Red openly defines their nonbinary or two-gender identity, and therefore hints at celebrating such identities as they exist in human life. By posing their gender nonconformity to human rules and understanding, they announce that non-normative gender exists and has existed in nature, and they also quietly and confidently proclaim the beauty of such an identity. They therefore implicitly challenge the prejudice that might portray such a characteristic in a human as unnatural.  

“There are plenty of [...] ways to convey information. An eyebrow cocked, a giggle stifled, a tear brushed aside: These, too, are ways you express yourself. For a tree, communication is just as complicated and miraculous as it is for humans. In a mysterious dance of sunlight and sugar, water and wind and soil, we build invisible bridges to connect with the world.”

Red compares human communication to tree communication. They tease out the beautiful complexity of the communication style of both humans and trees, while carefully keeping each style both distinct from and similar to one another. In so doing, they stand up for the complexity and beauty of their own kind, while also pointing out universal similarities between their life in the natural world and human life. In both lives, interdependency and the need for connection exist. This is a key counterpoint to prejudice and bigotry. 

“Hollows offer protection from the elements. A secure spot to sleep and to stash your belongings. They’re a safe place. Hollows are proof that something bad can become something good with enough time and care and hope.” 

Red’s wounds, which have eventually coalesced and healed into hollows over the years, now provide shelter and safety for both humans and animals. The lines foreground the wisdom of the 200-year-old tree—wisdom that humans cannot hope to gain as human lifespans pale in comparison. The passage therefore has the implicit aim of unseating human supremacy, and asserting that nature has lessons to teach human society.  

“This is unprecedented. Never have I sheltered so many babies. It just doesn’t happen. Animals like space. They like their own territory. Normally, there would be arguing. Perhaps even a stolen nest or a midnight battle. And certainly, there’ve been some disagreements. But I’ve made it clear that eating your neighbors will not be allowed while I’m in charge.”

These lines display parallelism and foreshadowing. In the same way that the tale will soon display a territorial fight between humans, Red reveals that animals are also guilty of such territorial squabbles. But Red presides over these animal tiffs as a benevolent yet firm guardian to all—upholding the rights of all to live peacefully. This duty and mandate will extend to the human lives around Red as well when they protect Samar. Applegate mounts the claim here that the human and natural world are not as separate as humans often like to think. 

“As it grew warmer, Samar would venture out in her pajamas and robe and sit beneath me on an old blanket, spattered with moonlight. Her silence was so complete, her gentleness so apparent, that the residents would crawl from their nests of thistledown and dandelion fluff to join her. They seemed to accept her as one of their own.”

This excerpt showcases Applegate’s precision and concision in honing Red’s wise and compassionate voice. The tree is able to celebrate and depict Samar’s tender humanity and vulnerability—and to therefore highlight her worthiness of respect and love as a human life and child. Red also depicts Samar’s special ability to connect with the natural world and inspire trust. 

“And the laughter! Always and forever, laughter. But sometimes things happen that aren’t so good. When they occur, I’ve learned that there’s not much you can do except stand tall and reach deep.”

Red takes stock of their experiences witnessing human life. Ultimately, they have seen love and joy triumph over darkness. As a being whose lifespan surpasses that of humans, Red is therefore asserting that their ability to ultimately see the good is, in some ways, a function of their longevity. This forms the implicit message that it can sometimes take humans generations or the passage of more than one lifetime to learn their lessons. 

“Watching Bongo soar, I considered, not for the first time, my rambling roots. What would it be like to fly? To burrow? To swim? To gallop? Delightful, no doubt. Sheer joy. And yet. I wouldn’t trade a single rootlet for any of it. It is a great gift indeed to love who you are.”

Red teases out the fundamental differences between themself and Bongo, one of their best friends. This is an implicit lesson about human prejudice. Through these lines, Red displays that it is eminently possible to appreciate and love the differences that exist between themself and the friend that they treasure—and that it is ultimately loving both those differences as well as embracing one’s own unique strengths and abilities that creates peaceful, fulfilling, and loving coexistence. 

“Over the years, many families had called those houses home. Babies and teenagers, grandparents and great-grandparents. They spoke Chinese and Spanish, Yoruba and English and French Creole. They ate tamales and pani puri, dim sum and fufu and grilled cheese sandwiches. Different languages, different food, different customs. That’s our neighborhood: wild and tangled and colorful. Like the best kind of garden.”

Here, Red reveals that the American neighborhood of which they are a part has a long history of racial and cultural diversity. To Red, this diversity is a source of beauty and richness. This is a key assertion of the narrative at large, as an intervention against the violence and destruction of Islamophobia and racism in Samar’s neighborhood (and, by thematic extension, America at large). 

“Other things happened. Someone threw raw eggs at the blue house. One afternoon, a car passed by, filled with angry men yelling angry things, things like ‘Muslims get out!’ Sometimes Samar would walk home trailed by children taunting her. I love people dearly. And yet. Two hundred and sixteen rings, and I still haven’t figured them out.”

Red details the harassment that Samar and her family face in explicit terms. As a being older and wiser than humans, Red immediately sees the folly and absurdity of such harassment. And yet, their gentle love for humans, and their optimism, endure. In this manner, Applegate poses Red’s celebration and embrace of all, regardless (and indeed, even because of) difference as a beautiful strength that Red has honed through quiet observation and sustained compassion. This passage also helps her to unseat human wisdom as the ultimate wisdom.  

“I was worried about me, too. I didn’t want to leave the world I loved so much. I wanted to meet next spring’s owl nestlings. I wanted to praise the new maple sapling across the street when it blushed red as sunset. I wanted my roots to journey farther, my branches to reach higher.”

These lines depict Red worrying about their impending fate. Francesca has sworn to cut Red down, and the animals have begun to rally around Red. Red, with their characteristic mixture of passive acceptance of human affairs and quiet insistence upon their own wisdom and compassion, feels simultaneous acceptance and conflict with their fate. They ultimately love life, and wish to continue to both deepen its pleasures and for new experiences. 

“There’d been much bickering over which baby would get to assist us—but then, there’d been plenty of bickering ever since Francesca’s threat to cut me down. It frustrated me to see my residents, the ones who’d miraculously been getting along so well, turn on one another when faced with a problem.” 

This passage displays the parallelism between the natural world and the human world. Just as the narrative depicts those within the human society of the neighborhood “turn on one another” as a result of racism and Islamophobia, so the animals squabble in the face of difficulty. In the case of the animals’ squabble, Red presides as a wise and firm mediator. This presages Red’s role in later human affairs. 

“Oh, the things I wanted to say to those two! I wanted to tell them that friendship doesn’t have to be hard. That sometimes we let the world make it hard. I wanted to tell them to keep talking. I wanted to make a difference, just a little difference, before I left this lovely world. And so I did it. I broke the rule. ‘Stay,’ I said.” 

In this moment, Red breaks the rule of the natural world: They use their voice to speak to the human children, and therefore reveal their ability to speak. They do this out of desperation—their three plans to get Samar and Stephen to strike up a friendship have failed, and their own death sentence draws nearer. Through this important plot event, Applegate forwards the assertion that humans sometimes need outsized assistance (from nature, for instance) to overcome their own failings.  

“This was a time, like many other times, when hungry, desperate people sailed on crowded boats to settle here. Many of them ended up, as they always seemed to, in my neighborhood. The blue and green houses were brown then, and filled to overflowing with new arrivals. Sometimes the newcomers were welcomed. Sometimes they were not. But still they came, hoping and wishing, as people always do.”

In this passage, Red speaks about 1840s America—a time of mass migration into the country’s borders (and Red’s community in particular). Red’s community here functions as a microcosm for America itself, as Applegate reveals the scaffolding of her parable. She situates the community’s current struggle with prejudice against Samar’s Muslim family as part of a larger and longer narrative of cultural and racial diversity and immigration within America. For Applegate, this is a story that is ultimately about the universal human yearning for home and for life—and also the universal and ultimately triumphant force of hope. Applegate poses a vision of America as a nation that has always hosted a diversity of human life, culture, and experience—and a place in which successive generations of humans have toiled to carve out their lives away from their original homes while cultivating their own distinct traditions and coming into beautiful coexistence with one another. However, the humans in Red’s community have lost sight of this, and they need the benefit of Red’s wisdom and longevity to remind them of it. 

“The years passed, and Maeve became as connected to the neighborhood as I was, even as newcomers from other lands added their music and food and language to our little part of the world. No matter where people were from, Maeve cared for them as best she could.” 

Here, Red depicts Maeve as a maven of equality in the face of cultural and racial diversity. She shares in a common immigrant struggle with poverty and with displacement. And throughout her struggle, she maintains the equanimity and wisdom to treat all around her as equal to herself and to each other. It is this wisdom that certain people within Red’s community lack, as they are openly racist and Islamophobic against Samar’s family. Through this illustration, Applegate mounts a critique of the current state of affairs in America, which has seen an increase in Islamophobic hate crimes in contemporary history. 

“As the weeks passed, the piece of fabric on my branch drew many comments. Some of the folks in our neighborhood, the ones from Ireland, would nod knowingly and smile. To them, Maeve would simply say, in her lilting voice, ‘That’s my raggy tree. She’s not a hawthorn, but she’ll do just fine.’”

Red recounts the birth of the wishtree tradition. It was a tradition transplanted from Ireland through Maeve. This is a very important key point, as it highlights the beauty and value of the traditions that immigrants have brought to America. Red’s loving description of Maeve’s Irish accent also accomplishes a similar end: It celebrates and reveres Maeve’s uniqueness as an immigrant, and depicts her differentiated enunciation as something beautiful and worthy of respect. 

“She was gone as quickly as she’d come. Like a hummingbird, I thought: There, then not there. Like a gust of wind.” 

Red remembers the way that Amadora’s biological mother fled from the scene after depositing Amadora in the tree hollow. Significantly, Red compares the woman to two elements of nature: a hummingbird and a gust of wind. Through this comparison, Applegate implicitly asserts that, while humans do a lot to distinguish themselves from the natural world, they are ultimately also a part of that natural world. For Applegate, that is why humans can learn so much from the ways of nature—from the ways that non-human beings forge interdependent connections with things that are unlike themselves. 

“The baby’s hair was black. Maeve’s was red. The baby’s eyes were brown. Maeve’s were blue. The baby was Italian. Maeve was Irish. They were made for each other. Maeve named the baby Amadora, which meant in Italian, ‘the gift of love.’”

This passage highlights the racial differences between Maeve and Amadora—and asserts that Maeve embraced these differences through the power of acceptance and love. Applegate uses this plot detail to assert that love and the celebration of difference are the way forward. This message is specific to the small community in which Red lives, and to Samar’s struggle, but it is also a larger and more universal message which touches on America’s history. 

“On dark nights when hope was scarce, [Maeve] would sing an old Irish tune, mixed with a new, Italian song that she had learned from a neighbor. The melody was sweet. The words were silly. The effect was always the same: a smile from little Ama. Sure enough, the longer Maeve waited, the kinder people grew. And before long, Ama, as she came to be called, was as much a part of our messy garden as all the rest of us.” 

Red depicts Maeve’s lonely struggle with the prejudice of those within her community who derided her, a single woman, for adopting a baby outside of her national and racial group. Through the metaphor of Maeve’s song, Applegate speaks to the process of cultural hybridization that is unique to America. For Applegate, the mixing of cultures, while each culture simultaneously asserts itself and its own beauty, is a key element of the beauty of American life and the answer to prejudice. 

“Stephen’s father came out onto the porch. He was holding a cup of coffee. He caught sight of Stephen and Samar and frowned. A moment later, Samar’s mother stepped out of the blue house, her keys jangling, a briefcase over her shoulder. She followed her neighbor’s gaze. Both parents watched in silence as Stephen and Samar, walking side by side, disappeared from view.”

This quote helps Applegate to form the message that the wisdom of children often surpasses that of adults. Stephen and Samar are able to connect to each other on the basis of their shared humanity alone. Their parents cannot follow that example, as they maintain their fearful and anxious silence despite their visual mirroring of one another.