THE TREE TOLD ME

An unidentified narrator imparts wisdom learned from a tree in this French import.

Each spread begins with “The tree told me,” as if the tree is sharing nuggets of wisdom that humans can consider for improving their own lives (“The tree told me / to learn to wait”) or, at the very least, to simply contemplate. The opening statement, “The tree told me in the beginning we are almost nothing,” is accompanied by an image of a green shoot springing forth from an underground seedling. Unfortunately, some of the tree’s tips are vague: A spread in which the tree says “there are many ways” depicts eight birds standing on branches, merely looking in various directions. And some are utterly baffling: “The tree told me / that some things are unacceptable” features animals running in fear while mammoth, pitch-black hands reach toward the ground. The text’s unvarying structure becomes dull, and the tree’s advice lacks any sort of unifying throughline. Birds are depicted with intriguing textures, feather patterns, and colors, but some spreads feature off-kilter perspectives that are visually perplexing: An early spread looking up from the ground is so disorienting that the bird standing next to a tree appears unrealistically huge. Changes in font color and size distract more than they enhance, and the ending (the final piece of wisdom)—“that it takes a lot of time to grow up”— is abrupt. (This book was reviewed digitally with 11.8-by-18.8-inch double-page spreads viewed at actual size.)

Disjointed and unremarkable.