Twelve Trees: The Deep Roots of Our Future

by Daniel Lewis

A compelling global exploration of nature and survival as seen via a dozen species of trees that represent the challenges facing our planet, and the ways that scientists are working urgently to save our forests and our future.

The world today is undergoing the most rapid environmental transformation in human history—from climate change to deforestation. Scientists, ethnobotanists, indigenous peoples, and collectives of all kinds are closely studying trees and their biology to understand how and why trees function individually and collectively in the ways they do. In Twelve Trees, Daniel Lewis, curator and historian at one of the world's most renowned research libraries, travels the world to learn about these trees in their habitats.

Lewis takes us on a sweeping journey to plant breeding labs, botanical gardens, research facilities, deep inside museum collections, to the tops of tall trees, underwater, and around the Earth, journeying into the deserts of the American west and the deep jungles of Peru, to offer a globe-spanning perspective on the crucial impact trees have on our entire planet. When a once-common tree goes extinct in the wild but survives in a botanical garden, what happens next? How can scientists reconstruct lost genomes and habitats? How does a tree store thousands of gallons of water, or offer up perfectly preserved insects from millions of years ago, or root itself in muddy swamps and remain standing? How does a 5,000-year-old tree manage to live, and what can we learn from it? And how can science account for the survival of one species at the expense of others? To study the science of trees is to study not just the present, but the story of the world, its past, and its future.

Note—species include: * The Lost Tree of Easter Island (Sophora toromiro) * The coast redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) * Hymenaea protera [a fossil tree] * The Longleaf pine (Pinus palustris) * East Indian sandalwood (Santanum album) * The Bristlecone pine (Pinus longaeva) * West African ebony (Diospyros crassiflora) * The Tasmanian blue gum eucalyptus (Eucalyptus globulus) * Olive tree (Olea europaea) * Baobab (Adansonia digitata) * The kapok tree (Ceiba pentandra) * The bald cypress (Taxodium distichum)

Genres: Nonfiction, Science, Nature, Environment, Natural History, Audiobook, Plants

304 pages, Hardcover

First published March 12, 2024

About the author

I work as a full-time endowed senior curator of the history of science and technology at the Huntington Library, Art Museum & Botanical Gardens in Southern California—and in a related vein—am a writer, college professor, and environmental historian. At the Huntington, I manage the documentary heritage (rare books, archival collections) related to modern (>1800) history of science and technology, working broadly across the natural and physical sciences.

I write mostly about the biological sciences and their intersections with evolution, policy, culture, history, politics, law, and literature. I hold the PhD in History and have had postdocs at Oxford, the Smithsonian, the Rachel Carson Center in Munich, and elsewhere. My 2012 book (The Feathery Tribe, Yale) was about the study of birds in the late 19th century and what it meant to be a professional after Darwinian evolution provided the mechanism for biological change. My 2018 book (Belonging on an Island: Birds, Extinction, and Evolution in Hawai'i, also with Yale) is an environmental history of extinction and survival among the avifauna of my native state, told in four species; it questions notions of purity among humans and animals. My new book (Twelve Trees: The Deep Roots of our Future) is a conservation and climate change story, published by Simon & Schuster in March 2024. I'm also a consulting author for McGraw-Hill Education's K-7 social studies textbooks. I'm represented by Wendy Strothman of the Strothman Agency in NYC for my writing projects.

Reviews

[Eric Grote · Rating 5 out of 5]

Unlike a lot of nonfiction books, there wasn’t one dull, hollow chapter in this book. Lewis unfurls the story of, you guessed it, 12 different, very spectacular trees. He may start with the history, branch out into uses, biology, or habitat, which splinters off into various stories on culture, science, and just about a hundred other things. He always gets to the root of the problem, the threats (usually people), and how to possibly go about solving them. It’s a book that will fill you with wonder and leave you in awe. (Ok I’ll stop now with the puns)

Definitely one I’ll return to.

[Crazytourists_books · Rating 4 out of 5]

(3.5 stars)

Twelve trees, thousands if not more of interconnected species, hundreds of ways they affect our lives, our cultures, our future, and as many ways that we harm them.
This is a quite interesting book, very well researched that focuses on twelve trees, and their invaluable survival. Their survival is our survival as a species, and we should all understand and accept this, if we want to (somewhat) avoid the disasters that await us.
The only negative thing that I can find, is that the author lost his footing at some places, dedicating too many words for things he could cover in a couple of paragraphs.

An overall enjoyable and informative read, that I hope it will find a broad audience when published.

Thank you NetGalley and Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster for the advanced copy in exchange for my honest review

[Sarah · Rating 3 out of 5]

Really should be “A Biography of Twelve Trees,” as that’s what it was. Historical, natural, and cultural significance of twelve different, notable tree species from around the world. Some anecdotes are thrown in, some more relevant than others. A nice way to learn about some of my favorite plants. Well-narrated audiobook.

[Cheryl Gatling]

I’m a sucker for books about trees. Although this was not quite what I expected. I thought it would be more science-y. Author Daniel Lewis appreciates science, for sure, but he also has an eye for the big picture, and keeps flying off on tangents to tell anecdotes from history, or to wax philosophical about the nature of time, or evolution, or man’s place in the universe. Except they aren’t tangents, because one of the central themes of the book is the interconnectedness of all things.

Trees are an integral part of the human story, and we are also part of theirs. Humans can hurt trees, or help them. Climate change is front and center. Humans got us into this mess, but humans can also help come up with solutions. Lewis reminds us that a species can go from abundant to extinct in almost no time at all. Yet he always seems to find a spark of hope.

One of my favorite chapters was on the African baobab tree. There are fun facts about the tree. It is not a single stem, but multiple stems surrounded by a shell. The trees are often hollow in the middle, and sometimes used as rooms. One old tree had a pub inside. The wood is soft and pulpy, and when the tree dies, it sort of falls apart. The age of the baobab can’t be measured by tree rings, so they age them by carbon dating.

The trees store gallons of water. Humans have sometimes used them for a source of water. Elephants do regularly, perhaps increasingly so, as climate change dries up watering holes. The elephants gouge great holes in the trunk, so that the trees is mutilated, and often dies. How do we balance conserving elephant populations, and baobab populations? Protect the trees and the elephants suffer. Protect the elephants, and the trees suffer.

The fruit of the baobab is useful for food. Traditionally, local women have done the work of gathering the fruit, but companies have gotten all the money. How can the system be changed to be more fair?

And so on for ebony (useful for the guitar industry), olives (everyone’s favorite oil), sandalwood (useful for medicines and perfumes), bald cypress (protecting the world’s wetlands), eucalyptus, and more. Every tree is at the center of controversy and story.

I have said that one common theme is the interconnectedness of all life, and the importance of finding solutions for climate change, but the single, most striking takeaway from this book is this note from page 158:

“You might have personal or professional reasons to not like them, but all trees are good. Every last one of them, every species and every individual tree on this planet. Even the ones with atrocious thorns, even the ones that catch fire in spectacular, crackling orange blooms and ravage the landscape. And even the ones with more direct effects: trees that end up in places where they weren’t born, as it were, these so-called invasive species that seem to crowd out native plants, and whose ways confound and preoccupy humans.” “[Trees] are the heartbeat of the world.”

[Carolyn Crocker · Rating 4 out of 5]

This remarkable blend of science, poetry, history, and practical strategy derives its hope for the future-- as well as its awareness of fragility-- from trees and their relationship to their varied environments and to humans. The ingenuity of trees' resilience in all climates and eventualities is truly mind-boggling and inspiring.

The toromiro: "There is an island of opportunity in the middle of every difficulty." p. 61

The blue gum eucalyptus:"But trees are also good beyond their relationships with humans. They are active entities, with their own lives, their own rights, their own histories, each an ecosystem unto itself, providing a bulwark against a changing climate, offering nourishment, rest, and sustenance for other species, and space and quiet in their midst. They are the heartbeat of the world, Trees are the Earth's reporters, chronicling life and change over the long, elastic curve o history. All we need do is listen up." p.159

"If the bristlecone pine is like a book, the olive tree is like a song, blown from the hot and dry parts of the world, an aria that has reached all corners of the planet through the cultural delights of its fruit and oil. Let us continue working to ensure that the song remains strong." p. 177

[Katie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a light and fun read, 45 minutes each (via audiobook) spent on a dozen trees. It’s a wide ranging book by design, speaking about the social impact of trees more than their technical botany (the chapter on African ebony trees, for example, is more about Taylor guitars than anything). That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though, and makes for a sprawling read full of fun facts. Won me over from the start and now I’d die for a bristlecone pine.

[Emily · Rating 3 out of 5]

12 trees was a well written academic style book. Filled with science based information about 12 different types of trees, and some discussion on human impact and influence on global landscapes and climate. Overall, a good book for those who want to read about the life of trees in the world but it was not particularly engaging for me.

** read this via audiobook

[Craig · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Coastal Redwood, the Great Basin Bristlecone Pine, Sophora toromiro, Amber, the Longleaf Pine, the East India Sandlewood Tree, Ebony, Blue Gem Eucalyptus, the Olive Tree, the African Baobab, the Bald Cypress; a dozen magnificent varieties of tree, each with a rich story to tell. Each has a role in mankind’s existence and together, we face challenges as we move into a rapidly warming climate and the author highlights specific and sometimes conflicting realities to each of these spectacular life forms. Some as old as 5000 years, or over 300 feet tall, 38 feet in diameter, some harvested under water decades after being felled. Can man work together with these long-lifed species in a way that allows both them and us to see a future? A great introduction into the complex and beautiful world of trees.

[Sophy H · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book by Daniel Lewis was alright but it didn't blow me away. I think I found it a little repetitive, as in :

This tree is a (insert tree type here).

This is what it does, it's amazing!

This is how long it's been around for.

This is what it is used for.

Man is shit, we have fucked this tree over.

Climate change.

Repeat!

Yeah! So after a few chapters I found myself drifting off big time. I really liked the redwood chapter and the olive tree chapter but some of the rest just ran into each other. Sorry Mr Lewis.

[Cheryl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Time changes everything, and it’s a partner for all of these trees. Their time frames are largely rendered as a vast evolutionary sweep across the face of the planet’s clock. But eons are made up of days and nights—infinitesimal slices of time in the larger march of life, and trees matter on tiny timescales, too.

The collective crucible of law, biology, beauty, awe, common sense, and something we can recognize as intelligence can forge humans into creatures able and willing to give trees like the redwoods their own due. We move toward a kind of newfound affinity, or at least it snags our attention, when we find clues that we’re not alone in our ability to express intelligence. For the natural world to survive, it needs long-term empathy. The future of the planet’s health is an abstraction to almost everyone, and the longer the arc of time, beyond our lifetime, the greater the abstraction.

Bristlecone pine. Coast redwood. Sophora toromiro native to Rapa Nui, extinct there and present only in gardens around the world. Fossil tree Hymenaea protera. Longleaf pine. East Indian Sandalwood tree. Forest Ebony. Blue Gum eucalyptus. The Olive tree. The African Baobab. Bald Cyress. Ceiba. Really great survey of a fraction of the trees on this planet, trees which breathe our air alive for us, trees that shelter us, and that as Annie Dillard writes, inhabiting the same portion of the air as us, even as they are generally taller than us.





Grateful for all the trees I have loved, and grateful this book exists, perfect, insightful, important nature writing.

Some three trillion trees grow on the planet, about four hundred for each of us. Despite their declines, forests still occupy more than 30 percent of Earth’s dry land. Around the world, trees absorb approximately 7.6 billion metric tons of carbon and sequester it in their leaves, stems, roots, and other parts for long stretches. But young trees don’t do this very well, or at all, depending on the species of tree. To sequester a lot of carbon, trees have to live long and healthy lives: at a minimum, ten to twenty years. It takes that long for sufficient foliage to grow into a sizeable reservoir for carbon. And the longer a tree lives, the more carbon it sequesters, as a promise for the future: trees get bigger as they grow, so every year they sequester a bit more carbon than the year before.

If a giant standing in the center of what is now California had cupped some seeds of bristlecone pines in his hands and flung them messily eastward, dropping a few and tossing the rest, you’d have the approximate distribution of the bristlecone pine. Its distribution spills across a strap of higher-elevation land that reaches from eastern California across Nevada and into Utah. The tree grows very slowly, sometimes increasing its diameter a mere inch over a century. It doesn’t like shade, and tends to grow fairly widely spaced, and only at high altitudes, typically above fifty-five hundred feet. Old trees form and grow buds with the same vigor as much younger trees, and they make functional cells for thousands of years. Researchers believe that the tree has no upper age limit. Under the right conditions, a bristlecone could survive indefinitely.

Imperfection is life, and life is filled with beautiful imperfection. No tree’s rings are ever perfectly, mathematically round, or perfectly even. The record of life limned on them, and within them, is splotchy. The planets might spin with precision, and Newton’s immutable laws apply. On the living planet, however, it’s messy business. Seasons shift, temperatures tremble between extremes, climate dips and rises. Humans charge in and out of the frame, using wood, our longest-lived and most versatile tool. The tree is a witness, recording evidence, and it accounts for these changes, presenting a record of the days and all their parts as they tumble into centuries. The oldest bristlecone pines have seen close to two million dawns and dusks. But nothing lasts forever, although the Great Basin bristlecone pine gives it a good try. Longevity seems to be an ideal for all organisms, even when it involves contorting yourself into something defiant. Trees are like books, and they leave a record that runs backward, as time runs forward, from the first page to the last. These ancient trees offer a story of losses and gains—theirs and ours—a simulacrum of the gorgeous jumble of the world.

The big coast redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) are magnificent, like news from another world. A few individuals grow to just shy of four hundred feet, making them the tallest carbon-bearing organisms on Earth. We still don’t know why they get so high, nor why they’re not even taller. But their sheer bigness—their height, their circumference, their massive bulk, their huge payloads of tissue and carbon and ancient wood—relocates us. If we pay attention, they can lead us to our better selves. They can confront us with our frailties, our smallness, and our puny life spans, while reassuring us that life can go on, and that if we are part of the living world, we too can go on. I find it reassuring that an entity this extraordinary can live while we live, in a sliver of shared time.

There’s something congregational about the redwoods in their groves: a group of worshippers, petitioners standing solemnly, upright before an even higher power than themselves—the calculus of wind, rain, sun, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and time. The coast redwood is about wonderment, delight, and, ultimately, the right of a tree to exist, to not have to serve as a means to human ends. The oldest-known coast redwoods clock in at twenty-two hundred years, making them some of the planet’s most ancient trees.

The answers to the why-so-tall and why-not-taller questions seem to involve water, as is the case for so much about trees. Ultimately, it’s most likely a matter of hydraulics: a tree’s height appears to be limited by the enormous effort needed to lift water up through the tiny tubes, or xylem, the transport tissue that constitutes most of its mass. However, we have no certainty about these higher powers, because there are no hydraulic systems built by humans that have sufficient capacity to let us test some of the finer theories about this water-raising process.

More humans have summited Mount Everest than have gotten higher than three hundred feet up a coast redwood. In the canopy, amazing worlds emerge. Different species of trees are thriving in soil up to three feet deep within the inner folds of some of the redwoods. One tree climber found an eight-foot-tall Sitka spruce growing in the upper heights of a giant redwood. But to know the tree best, it’s important to move beyond its biology and to the emotions and sensations it stirs. Beauty as a branch of biology is underrated. Some of the loveliest elements in the redwoods’ ecosystems are the tiniest.
Jack Kerouac wrote, “I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night.” Trees continue to school us, even as we help them. If the longleaf could speak, it would ask us to be patient, to accommodate, to value our communities. It would also tell us fire isn’t always a horrible scourge, and that sometimes, the best thing to do is to start a fire.
Musicians, cabinetmakers, chess players, and pool hustlers have lusted for centuries after the wood of the ebony tree, primarily exploited on the African continent. One botanist has described the wood as the tree world’s equivalent of the blood diamonds of Africa.1 The hardwood has stunning characteristics: dense enough to sink in water, and breathtakingly gorgeous in its polished form. Buyers and sellers have used it as a form of global currency.
The most recent estimates suggest a surviving population of fewer than thirty million individual trees above ten centimeters in diameter.3 It lives among a vast cohort of other tree species, all hard at work: Congo basin forests across six countries sequester forty billion tons of carbon, more than any other part of the world and surpassing even the Amazon basin. Nature produces ebony very slowly: the trees take around sixty years to get to a harvestable size when they’re planted in a sunny location, and many centuries to reach maturity when they’re under the shade of deep forest canopy.
Olive orchards are among the most important agroecosystems in the world. Olive trees are the oldest cultivated fruit tree, probably dating back to the earliest days of plant use, and certainly back to the Copper Age. The tree, its fruit, and its oil were well rooted into the land and the culture of the Mediterranean region in Europe by the eighth century BCE, and at a volume that suggests ubiquitous use.
The olive is not just a fruit, it’s a ballad, and a way of life, and has been since antiquity. It’s a functional food that works across cultural, geographic, and socioeconomic boundaries. Food pulls us closer, brings us joy, stitches together generations, sustains and nurtures us, makes us happy. We’ve all sat around a table, catching up, intertwining taste and talk and tapenade. If the bristlecone pine is like a book, the olive tree is like a song, blown from the hot and dry parts of the world, an aria that has reached all corners of the planet through the cultural, sensual delights of its fruit and oil. Let us continue working to ensure that the song remains strong/.
The bottle-shaped African baobab, a massively thick and long-lived tree, has been subjected to IUCN scrutiny, but it remains one with a highly incomplete accounting of its threats, which vary from region to region. It’s one of eight species of baobabs, all in the genus Adansonia, and the only one found on the African continent. Evolutionarily speaking, it is the oldest of the baobabs; six of the other species are native to the island of Madagascar, and one is native to Australia. Although its ancestral roots were a long-standing mystery, it’s proven to be the only baobab that’s native to the African continent. Scientists thought for decades that the continental African tree somehow split off from the Madagascar trees, but it was probably the other way around: the continental tree worked its way to the island of Madagascar, long ago, probably floating there.
The bald cypress can live, and thrive, with significant parts of its trunk and root systems underwater. A deciduous conifer, the tree is so named because it loses its tan, cinnamon, and fiery orange leaves early in the fall compared to its more sturdily coiffed evergreen neighbors—the loblolly, southern live oak, and longleaf pine. It is a resident of wetlands, the most valuable and important ecosystems on the planet. The tree once covered some forty-two million acres in the southeastern United States in prehistoric times, and is now down to about three million acres, tracking across the Atlantic coastal plain, from southern New York down to East Texas, running in higher concentrations along the Mississippi River due to its love affair with water, and down south to the tip of Florida. There’s also a nearly genetically identical version found in Mexico: the Montezuma cypress, T. mucronatum, that figures in the survival story of the bald cypress

[Allison · Rating 5 out of 5]

Twelve Trees is a beautiful, well researched love letter to trees. Daniel Lewis describes 12 different species of trees in great detail. I really enjoyed learning about how different species of tree manage water and the importance of controlled fires to preventing massive disasters. Trees coexist as part of biomes and the interaction between trees and other forms of life are explored. After reading this book I have a much better understanding for how critical the survival of trees is to so many ecosystems and the general balance of biodiversity. Human interaction, disruption and consumption has already had catastrophic impacts on many species including trees discussed in this book.

I would rate this book as 4.5 stars. The one challenge that I had with the book is that there were sometime tangents that did not see relevant. The biological and ecological information was fascinating but sometimes the non-science tangents slowed down my reading.

My sincere hope is that many people will read this book and take action. Twelve Trees is a beautiful tribute to trees and the critical role we all have to play in preservation to mitigate climate change.

Thank you to NetGalley and Avid Reader Press/Simon & Schuster for an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[Kelly Hodgkins]

I love, and have read several, books about trees. This one is less about trees and more a personal statement from the author on the impact of humans on nature - through deforestation, global warming, etc. - as such, it wasn’t for me. The author dedicates pages to a diary-like reflection of his interaction with trees often wandering completely from the tree of the chapters and, at times, from the topic of trees entirely. I had no desire to learn in detail about insects or production processes or several other tangents. It is well written and undoubtedly well research but far too little tree and far too much other for me.

[Kara · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 🌳 trees are fascinating, and I enjoyed how the author discussed the connection between trees and climate change. However, other authors make the same point more eloquently (Robin Wall Kimmerer and Margaret Renkl), hence the rating.

[Denise Freedman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow! So much to learn. Difficult at times to read but intriguing. I love trees & enjoyed learning some new information. I'm glad the author wrote this book.

[Donny · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed reading about the various species but it really felt like twelves ways to say, "Save this tree too."

[Bodo · Rating 3 out of 5]

There are some really really interesting things here that are cemented in my brain but the vast majority of this book has already been forgotten

[Sharon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very detailed, he’s obviously very dedicated to the trees and the environment, and what can be done to protect them.

[Marco · Rating 5 out of 5]

I cannot imagine the amount of work put into this book, as it weaves a story from each of the twelve trees, from a journey to its past and evolutionary origins to the intricate factors that influence its life or death, such as insects, animals, fungi, soil, bacteria, water, weather conditions, predators, pollination, pollution, and humans. This book is an eye-opener to the world and the marvelous and complex ecosystem of these mighty trees.

[Khushi · Rating 4 out of 5]

i learned new things which is the benchmark. i liked the commentary on human impact on trees. the philosophic/reflective notes didn’t always connect back to the main point effectively (but when they did they hit) enjoyed the read for sure :)

[Lauren · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love a stream of consciousness off the jumping point of trees 🍃

[Emma Hughes]

sort of interesting but not enough trees for me

[Rachel Pollock · Rating 4 out of 5]

Structurally creative and informative, and hopeful! Recommend to everyone with an interest in the planet and ecology.

[Brittany · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a hugely entertaining book.

I initially thought the author was a bit credulous in his scope for swallowing stories from the science adjacent and biased but then he dropped, most of the way through, that he’s an IUCN adviser for birds so who knows.

Regardless, this was a very fun read.

[Kalyan · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is like the plain vanilla of ice creams; you eat it when you want some comfort food. I liked the book because the author's narration was soothing. There are no sudden surprises—just simple but surprising facts about olives, sandalwood trees, and other trees. Nothing unexpected happens; it goes like a very slow drama. Read it if you enjoy this genre or if you are tired of the chaos in the world.

[Terry · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved it. Well written. Fascinating stories tree by tree. Was sad to come to the end.

[David Wilkins · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book provides insights on many topics. The chapter on the Ebony tree describes the intricacies of the wood used to make the best guitars and violins in the world. We also learn the intricacies of olive oil, as the olive tree has nourished part of humanity for thousands of years.

The overall theme is listening to the ecological wisdom of trees which have been accumulating knowledge for thousands of years. "Homo Sapiens has a puny track record as a species: a measly 300,000 years. Most species of trees, including those we consider highly invasive, have been around very much longer than that, evolving and surviving. We are the newcomers not they."

Longleaf pines covered more than 90 million acres in southern North America when the Europeans arrived. "The now-vanished green blanket of longleaf pine forest that ran from Virginia south to Florida and west to Texas may have been the largest ecosystem that ever existed in the United States. The tree ... has receded by 97%, among the most severe retreats of any ecosystem on the planet."

As a grad student, I lived in a grove of coastal California redwoods for a few years. I did not fully appreciate that they nourished an entire ecosystem of plants, animals, and fungi until reading this book. "Redwood groves are quiet places; there is a distinct sense of the sacred. As writer Annie Lamont notes, "the trees are so huge that they shut you up". Their mass dampens sound, and people in and around them tend to speak in quiet, reverent tones, as often happens when walking among giants.

... If we pay attention, they can lead us to our better selves. ... I find it reassuring that an entity this extraordinary can live while we live, in a sliver of shared time."

My choice for a concluding quote:
"all trees are good. Every last one of them, every species and every individual tree on this planet.... Trees are active entities, with their own lives, their own rights, their own histories, each an ecosystem onto itself, providing a bulwark against changing climate, offering nourishment, rest, and sustenance for other species, and space and quiet in their midst. They are the heartbeat of the world."

[Cheryl · Rating 4 out of 5]

We each breathe out nearly a million tons of carbon dioxide in an average lifetime. We consume about thirty thousand gallons of water during that same span. We are resource users, the most hypocritical of organisms, ranting about invasive species while not confronting our own invasive ways. Disposable diapers use some 715 pounds of plastic per kid, and pulp from more than four trees. Each of us will eat an average of 2.5 tons of beef in a lifetime. And any one of our ubiquitous computers will require at least 530 pounds of fossil fuel to manufacture. And we speak in the same way that we act. ... “I mean, you hear this fifty times a day. People talk about our environment, our seas, our solar system. I’ve even heard people talk about our wildlife.”

... all trees are good. Every last one of them, every species and every individual tree on this planet. Even the ones with atrocious thorns, even the ones that catch fire in spectacular, crackling orange blooms and ravage the landscape. And even the ones with more direct effects: trees that end up in places where they weren’t born, as it were, these so-called invasive species that seem to crowd out native plants, and whose ways confound and preoccupy humans. Homo sapiens has a puny track record as a species: a measly three hundred thousand years. Most species of trees, including those we consider highly invasive, have been around very much longer than that, evolving and surviving. We’re the newcomers, not they. But trees are also good beyond their relationships with humans. They are active entities, with their own lives, their own rights, their own histories, each an ecosystem unto itself, providing a bulwark against a changing climate, offering nourishment, rest, and sustenance for other species, and space and quiet in their midst. They are the heartbeat of the world. Trees are Earth’s reporters, chronicling life and change over the long, elastic curve of history.

[Adam · Rating 4 out of 5]

A nice concept and a fairly enjoyable read. Instead of focusing on say, forests as a whole, as John Reid does in Ever Green, Daniel Lewis explores the ecology and economy of twelve different trees from around the world. It reminded me somewhat of Peter Wohlleben's books except slightly less romanticized. Still, Lewis writes and appears to look at nature through a lens of grandeur, which allows a book like this to be more engaging than it otherwise would be. I think it's worth reading for us to think more on our interconnections with other species, particularly trees. Every breath we take in is most literally dependent on trees, yet too we relegate them to the periphery or outright dismiss them as unimportant. This book is certainly a counter to when Reagan said "if you've seen one [redwood] tree, you've seen them all".

[Alex Campbell · Rating 4 out of 5]

Honestly, it was fantastic. Not at captivating as fiction, but very informative and fascinating. An argument could be made that the author doesn’t make the strongest possible case for communicating the trees’ importance for the future, but I think he does a fairly good job.

[Sara · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed this series of essays about different notable trees and how understanding their lives can help us (and the rest of the world) adapt to climate change. I was especially enamored of the sandalwood chapter, which taught me lots of things I didn't know about one of my favorite trees. A bonus was that the author was born Hilo, Hawaii, and he sprinkled little tidbits of Hawaii-living facts that were nice little Easter eggs to discover.