I love that this recognizes both the existence of unconditional love and acknowledges its evolutionary origins. Of course, yes, both things are obvious, but it's refreshing.
Wish I hadn't read that NYT article you linked. Unsurprised to discover Adam Grant is an "organizational psychologist"--basically just a rebrand of the more transparent field of "industry psychology." The need to break beautiful things down and discuss them in such sterilized categories as if they can be discussed in purely utilitarian terms is a trademark, and so frustrating to see because they always mask it in language that tries to trick you into thinking they are genuinely concerned for the human at the center of it all. Self-sacrifice? Oh, that's not "sustainable." Did you know it's a "risk factor" for x and y? It "predicts for" exhaustion! And of course, "studies show" all of this!
I'm siding with the Grants on this one. They weren't trying to cancel the book or its author. They weren't being shrill about their apprehensions, but rather saying enjoy the book with your children but use it as a jumping off point for discussion about boundaries.
The book *might* be about unconditional love between a parent and a child, but I always saw it as a book about children (like myself) who were not good with boundaries. As a small boy who wanted to love everyone, I related much more to the tree in the story that I did the selfish kid so this was a good way to internalize a lesson about boundaries that served to protect kids from everything from other selfish kids to the "handsy" uncle, no?
Of course "romantic" love is completely irrational, and in many cases (mine, for example) is at the root of all kinds of neuroses. The only human relationships I have that are truly healthy are with my siblings, and they aren't passionate. The only real passion I experience that I can't find fault with is the deep affection I feel for my dog. And how she feels about me, well, we call it love, but I'm pretty sure it isn't, really.
I don't have children of my own, and I have no doubt that would be a whole 'nuther thing.
THANK YOU! This idea that depictions of relationships must always be healthy and positive (or else stern and condemnatory, of the bad ones) is everywhere these days. I was deeply depressed when I learned that The Mountain Goats never play “Going to Georgia” anymore, probably my favorite song by them, because John Darnielle now finds its depiction of unhealthy, passionate love to be antisocial and regressive. Obviously he’s entitled to his feelings and his setlist but it just seems like such a loss for a performer who’s so skilled at capturing dysfunction to cut out that part of himself out of a sense of responsibility.
What’s more, the anti-GT critique seems like another example of the relentless modern attack on ambiguity or even subtlety in art. The Boy in Giving Tree immediately loses his happiness when he starts asking the Tree for material things (in addition to being about parenthood I think GT is an ecological story as well), and he only regains happiness when he’s too incapable to make use of the material and has to resort to pure communion with the loved one. But we apparently can’t trust kids to think, “Boy, seems like the Boy shouldn’t have done that!”
When I was a child, The Giving Tree upset me. I didn't understand why the kid was treating the tree so badly. I still think that ideally, there should be some reciprocity in any relationship. Most children grow up and care for their parents in some capacity--whether it's literal caregiving or writing checks to a nursing home.
But speaking as a parent, the love the tree feels is absolutely real. There is nothing I wouldn't do for that little boy. I'd give my life for his in a second. I love him so much that it overwhelms me all the time, and nothing he does in the future could ever make me love him less. If he murdered someone, I'd visit him in prison and tell him how much I love him.
So the book is true in that sense. Even without receiving anything in return, parents will sacrifice anything for their kids.
I too read the Giving Tree as the story of a parent's unconditional love for a child -- something that is so profound that I still occasionally find myself obsessing over a Modern Love essay that Ayelet Waldman's wrote about how she loved her husband more than her children such that she could more easily cope with the death of a child than her husband. I enjoy Michael Chabon as much as the next person, but nothing is deeper than the desire to preserve your child's life and well being -- I would sacrifice my own life without a thought and my husband's if that's what it took. Don't think about children as a lifestyle choice -- that love that you feel for them is next level great - and at least for some amount of time they love you back in a way that feels pretty great.
In those kinds of perspectives, everything is a morality tale. Perhaps The GT isn't about what *should* be, it's just about what sometimes *is.* My father-in-law is in his 70s and his giving-treed himself nigh unto death for my younger brother-in-law, who suffers from severe OCD and self-medicates with alcohol. My FIL supports his troubled son financially. They live together. He gives and gives and gives. We wish he could find another way. But the only other way is to put his mentally ill son out on the street. It's not great, it's not particularly healthy, it's not a picnic for all the rest of us, but there's something beautiful in it, too.
Freddie, this book isn't about cancel-culture. Of COURSE you don't really understand what the author is trying to say, or rather, what the Grants think it should have said. Probably should stick in your lane.
Silverstein was not a Christian, but the book has an almost crypto-Christian theme. Can anyone make rational sense of Christ’s sacrifice? Is there any way to break it down logically? What about a person who goes into a burning building to save someone they’ve never met?
Not everything has to be a message. In fact, the vast majority of things are not.
This is a favorite children's book for me, and personally, as a child, the message I got out of it was something like, "Sometimes people may love you so much that they're willing to give anything you ask. But that doesn't mean it costs them nothing to give those things. So, don't ask for more than you need and appreciate the sacrifice and love in what they give you."
I don't think this applies to romantic love nearly as well. I do believe that to some extent romantic love is a choice and an act. We choose to open up, to let people inside. We choose to see others in a certain light. Once that flame gets kindled, it can turn into a conflagration, but we start with that choice.
I recognize that The Giving Tree is not that sort of love, but I think this is worth mentioning nonetheless.
I hated the book (but the author photo kicked ass so it has that going for it). Perhaps I am not allegorical enough (which is why I prefer non-fiction) but I saw the tree as the Earth and the boy as humanity and saw in the story our selfishness in destroying the tree for our own short-term need. That said and with now seeing the book anew with the perspective of unconditional love, I have to say that the story is moving and resonates with me as a parent.
funny
I love that this recognizes both the existence of unconditional love and acknowledges its evolutionary origins. Of course, yes, both things are obvious, but it's refreshing.
Wish I hadn't read that NYT article you linked. Unsurprised to discover Adam Grant is an "organizational psychologist"--basically just a rebrand of the more transparent field of "industry psychology." The need to break beautiful things down and discuss them in such sterilized categories as if they can be discussed in purely utilitarian terms is a trademark, and so frustrating to see because they always mask it in language that tries to trick you into thinking they are genuinely concerned for the human at the center of it all. Self-sacrifice? Oh, that's not "sustainable." Did you know it's a "risk factor" for x and y? It "predicts for" exhaustion! And of course, "studies show" all of this!
Thank you for your writing. It is a joy to read.
I didn’t need to be introduced to Adam Grant this Wednesday morning.
I'm siding with the Grants on this one. They weren't trying to cancel the book or its author. They weren't being shrill about their apprehensions, but rather saying enjoy the book with your children but use it as a jumping off point for discussion about boundaries.
The book *might* be about unconditional love between a parent and a child, but I always saw it as a book about children (like myself) who were not good with boundaries. As a small boy who wanted to love everyone, I related much more to the tree in the story that I did the selfish kid so this was a good way to internalize a lesson about boundaries that served to protect kids from everything from other selfish kids to the "handsy" uncle, no?
Of course "romantic" love is completely irrational, and in many cases (mine, for example) is at the root of all kinds of neuroses. The only human relationships I have that are truly healthy are with my siblings, and they aren't passionate. The only real passion I experience that I can't find fault with is the deep affection I feel for my dog. And how she feels about me, well, we call it love, but I'm pretty sure it isn't, really.
I don't have children of my own, and I have no doubt that would be a whole 'nuther thing.
THANK YOU! This idea that depictions of relationships must always be healthy and positive (or else stern and condemnatory, of the bad ones) is everywhere these days. I was deeply depressed when I learned that The Mountain Goats never play “Going to Georgia” anymore, probably my favorite song by them, because John Darnielle now finds its depiction of unhealthy, passionate love to be antisocial and regressive. Obviously he’s entitled to his feelings and his setlist but it just seems like such a loss for a performer who’s so skilled at capturing dysfunction to cut out that part of himself out of a sense of responsibility.
What’s more, the anti-GT critique seems like another example of the relentless modern attack on ambiguity or even subtlety in art. The Boy in Giving Tree immediately loses his happiness when he starts asking the Tree for material things (in addition to being about parenthood I think GT is an ecological story as well), and he only regains happiness when he’s too incapable to make use of the material and has to resort to pure communion with the loved one. But we apparently can’t trust kids to think, “Boy, seems like the Boy shouldn’t have done that!”
When I was a child, The Giving Tree upset me. I didn't understand why the kid was treating the tree so badly. I still think that ideally, there should be some reciprocity in any relationship. Most children grow up and care for their parents in some capacity--whether it's literal caregiving or writing checks to a nursing home.
But speaking as a parent, the love the tree feels is absolutely real. There is nothing I wouldn't do for that little boy. I'd give my life for his in a second. I love him so much that it overwhelms me all the time, and nothing he does in the future could ever make me love him less. If he murdered someone, I'd visit him in prison and tell him how much I love him.
So the book is true in that sense. Even without receiving anything in return, parents will sacrifice anything for their kids.
I too read the Giving Tree as the story of a parent's unconditional love for a child -- something that is so profound that I still occasionally find myself obsessing over a Modern Love essay that Ayelet Waldman's wrote about how she loved her husband more than her children such that she could more easily cope with the death of a child than her husband. I enjoy Michael Chabon as much as the next person, but nothing is deeper than the desire to preserve your child's life and well being -- I would sacrifice my own life without a thought and my husband's if that's what it took. Don't think about children as a lifestyle choice -- that love that you feel for them is next level great - and at least for some amount of time they love you back in a way that feels pretty great.
In those kinds of perspectives, everything is a morality tale. Perhaps The GT isn't about what *should* be, it's just about what sometimes *is.* My father-in-law is in his 70s and his giving-treed himself nigh unto death for my younger brother-in-law, who suffers from severe OCD and self-medicates with alcohol. My FIL supports his troubled son financially. They live together. He gives and gives and gives. We wish he could find another way. But the only other way is to put his mentally ill son out on the street. It's not great, it's not particularly healthy, it's not a picnic for all the rest of us, but there's something beautiful in it, too.
Freddie, this book isn't about cancel-culture. Of COURSE you don't really understand what the author is trying to say, or rather, what the Grants think it should have said. Probably should stick in your lane.
Silverstein was not a Christian, but the book has an almost crypto-Christian theme. Can anyone make rational sense of Christ’s sacrifice? Is there any way to break it down logically? What about a person who goes into a burning building to save someone they’ve never met?
Not everything has to be a message. In fact, the vast majority of things are not.
This is a favorite children's book for me, and personally, as a child, the message I got out of it was something like, "Sometimes people may love you so much that they're willing to give anything you ask. But that doesn't mean it costs them nothing to give those things. So, don't ask for more than you need and appreciate the sacrifice and love in what they give you."
Or, more succinctly, I guess, "Have gratitude."
I don't think this applies to romantic love nearly as well. I do believe that to some extent romantic love is a choice and an act. We choose to open up, to let people inside. We choose to see others in a certain light. Once that flame gets kindled, it can turn into a conflagration, but we start with that choice.
I recognize that The Giving Tree is not that sort of love, but I think this is worth mentioning nonetheless.
I hated the book (but the author photo kicked ass so it has that going for it). Perhaps I am not allegorical enough (which is why I prefer non-fiction) but I saw the tree as the Earth and the boy as humanity and saw in the story our selfishness in destroying the tree for our own short-term need. That said and with now seeing the book anew with the perspective of unconditional love, I have to say that the story is moving and resonates with me as a parent.