45 pages • 1 hour read
Katherine ApplegateA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Red introduces us to the human member of their community: a 10-year-old girl named Samar, who recently moved into one of the houses to which Red provides shade—“a tiny blue house with a sagging porch and a tidy garden” (27). They describe Samar as a girl with “wary eyes and a shy smile,” and “the look of someone who has seen too much [and] wants the world to quiet itself” (27).
Soon after moving in, Samar began to sneak out and visit Red after her parents had gone to sleep. Sometimes she’d gaze at the moon, and other times she’d furtively look at the small green neighboring house, in which a boy named Stephen lives. As the weather warmed, Samar began to sit on a moon-dappled blanket for extended periods at Red’s base: “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” (28).
Bongo developed a particular fondness for Samar and began perching on her shoulder and greeting the girl with a “hello” that beautifully mimicked Samar’s own voice. The crow began gifting the girl with small tokens of her affection, which she kept sheltered in one of Red’s smaller hollows.
Red explains that this occurrence was neither a fairy tale nor the result of a magic spell. Samar did not break the rules of nature, which dictate that animals fight each other for survival and dominance: “But sometimes surprises happen. And Samar, every spring night, reminded me that there is beauty and stillness and grace in acceptance. And that you’re never too old to be surprised” (30).
Red was happy to see Samar’s family move onto the block. They knew that the family would put down roots—something intimately familiar to themself—just as countless families had done before them. One night, says Red, Samar came out to visit her late—at 2am. The girl was crying, and she tenderly tied a single wish to one of Red’s branches. It was a wish for a friend.
Red reminds us that they are over 200 years old. Over the course of their lifetime, they have witnessed much human joy and sorrow. But they have treasured the laughter the most: “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” (34). Red is no stranger to pain. Over the course of their long life, they have braved the mistreatment and negligence of humans, the sharp claws of creatures, and even a particularly unpleasant mite infestation. However, a few days after Samar made her sorrowful wish, Red witnessed something that made all of their previous negative experiences pale in comparison.
This section introduces Samar. Significantly, at no point in the narrative does Applegate allow access into the interior of any human character. Samar’s innermost thoughts or feelings find voice only when she chooses to speak them aloud. Instead, Red details human experience based on their experience.
This authorial choice produces a few interesting effects. For one, Applegate’s relative psychological distance from her human characters, and the way that she purposefully and carefully remains in the intimacy of Red’s voice alone, subverts the idea of human supremacy. Instead of merely venturing a foray into the psychology of the tree, in order to ultimately circle back to a more traditional human protagonist, Applegate unapologetically foregrounds a non-human voice—filling it out with all of the pathos and complexity that readers are accustomed to attributing to humans. This approach produces the implicit assertion that humans are not the be-all, end-all of the planet: Other living things have an equally complex and valuable existence.
Although the narrative’s most salient message regards human bigotry and prejudice, Applegate spends the opening chapters of the book building a scaffolding via the natural world for her argument regarding humans. By taking authority away from humans by crystallizing and realizing Red’s voice alone, she asks the reader for the humility needed to learn hard lessons. Applegate also begins to form a braid between the natural and human worlds, suggesting that the two realms are not so far apart as one may think.
By Katherine Applegate