Repost: The Giving Tree and why its special

I'm reposting this because I was talking to one of my friends on twitter (I'd post your blog Alybee, but I can't find it *facepalm*). Her and the awesome Shannon Delany were talking about children's books and I mentioned the Giving Tree. Immediately a good response. But then Aly commented that some people didn't like the book and it didn't represent the right things and that....well, pissed me off. Maybe of you might have never read this, because I posted it back when only like 7 people followed the blog (love you all!) but here it is:

The Giving Tree.
It's the story of a small boy who is always playing around the tree (picking apples, resting in the shade). That tree brought him so much happiness and fun. Then he got older and started having "adult" problems. And he'd ask the tree for things and since the tree thought if he gave him those trees, the boy (now man) would play and be with him again. But he would take what he needed and leave, only coming back when he needed something. Pretty soon, all that was left was the stump of the tree.

When I was little, this was just a silly book about a tree and a boy. I was in about 2nd grade. I'm in 9th grade now (I know, freshmen) and to relive some old memories, I read it again. It had me at tears. I had grown up (at least a bit) and now understood the way the story worked.

It wasn't just a story about a tree! It was a a book about loving the things that make you happy and never taking advantage of the things and people that love you. The boy had taken everything from the tree (it's apples, it's lumber, it's branches) because the tree wanted the little boy that loved him back. I think if our old children toys could feel, they would feel the same way. Abandoned, left behind. All those barbies you never play with anymore, those dolls and trucks and those weird Baby Alive babies. They all got left behind as we grew up. The little boy grew up as well.

The little boy grew into a person who was busy to sit in the tree's shade, too old to climb it's branches, too mature to make crowns out of it's leaves. It's a metaphor really. I think what it's trying to say is that when people mature and grow into adults, they leave the imagination and the happiness behind. They focus of business, of making money, and not on the things that made them happy.

See, this is something I love about YA and YA authors. Because they are people who haven't let go of their imagination, of what makes them happy. They've held on to their childhood and molded it to make people like us happy. They are those adults that don't leave the tree behind. When i'm older, I won't leave the tree behind.

Writing this makes me want to read it again :) It's a really beautiful story, even though it's not long at all and has pictures and you can only find it in the children's section at the store.

Don't leave the tree behind. YOU need it as much as it needs you!

Happy Reading,
-Harmony B.

The day: The beauty of YA and it's authors:

I proofread the awesomely awesome Julie's post on how YA authors are magical and it instantly did two thing: 1) Got me all teary-eyed. & 2) Made me think. So you should go read it. Like now. But come back!

YA is the most underestimated genre I've ever seen. People mock it, people don't understand it, adults barely even consider it real books. But they're wrong. They. Are. So. Wrong.

YA is beautiful, even more beautiful than the most literary literacy you could find and stuff in my face. It's beautiful to me. And that's the amazing thing about it. YA books have such an impact on my life, on the life of the teens (or teens at heart) reading it. Reading a book as an adult is different, reading a book was teen is something else altogether.

When I was 10, I read The Clique series by Lisa Harrison. I was in love. I'd wait and wait for the next book to come out, I fangirled over them once I bought them, I worshiped Lisa Harrison for giving me these books to read and enjoy. I don't read them anymore but the impact they left on me was immense.

Those books are the reason I write. I had written before, not big things, but when I read those books, they gave me inspiration. They gave me courage to pursue my dreams and not let anyone tell me that I couldn't do something. It wasn't the message in the books, or anything like that. It was the sheer fact that some person in the world was writing this book for me. Was writing it so I could pick it up and squeal and shout and giggle and jump up and down like a maniac in my room. She was writing for the world, writing to make little girls like me happy. And I wanted to do that. I wanted to make the world happy. That's what YA authors do.

Heh, I'm getting teary-eyed writing this post. YA shaped me, molded me into the person I am today. Teens haven't changed completely yet, we haven't grown, matured, experienced everything we want to. The joy you feel picking up a book, flipping through it's pages, is a part of your childhood. A part of who you are and who you can become.

YA authors are amazing, wonderful, brilliant people who understand us as teens and us as people. I've meet the nicest YA authors from Kiersten White, Shannon Delany, Anastasia Hopcus, Jackson Pearce and so many more who just want to talk to you. You read their books, you love it, it changes you, and they want to hear what you have to say!

They're the nicest people you could possibly meet! And they don't write for money, for fame, they write for us. Because they know that they can make a difference, touch into our very hearts and souls and make us feel special and amazing. You can relate to their character, which I think is the most surreal and wonderful part of reading YA. When you read adult novels in our age, we don't understand the characters. They're adults, they've lived there lives much more than we have. YA novels focus on ourselves, discovering ourselves, losing ourselves in the midst of the hardest moments in a persons lives.

I think being a teenager is the crucial point in people's lives. It's a moment where you can make mistakes, where you can take a wrong turn, but you can get back up again. You can do something wrong and it's not the end of the world. You can do different things, live different lives, meet new people and places and just live. Live and not worry about taxes and the rent and all those other "adult" things that they have to worry about. You can do whatever you want, do what inspires you.

So thank you YA authors, for understanding. For making me feel like I can fly, like I can run, like I can be anything I wanna be. If I just try. For making me feel like a can be a werewolf, a vampire, a faery, a graceling if I just believe. Imagination is the most precious thing a person can have. Thank you YA authors, for not losing that imagination that the world finds so rare and beautiful. Thank you for not keeping it to yourself and sharing it with the world.

Thank you & happy reading :)
-Harmony B.

The day in which I get all deep ;)

One day, I was passing by Emily's wonderful blog (http://www.emilysreadingroom.blogspot.com/) and found a post Leah Cypress (author for MistWood) did on how the meaning of books change from when your a child to when your an adult. I commented on it with my opinion but the topic left a lingering feeling on me and I decided to create it into this blog post.

First though, i'm not an adult yet :P But there is one book that I read when I was little and now again:

There was a one I read once called The Giving Tree (picture at the left).

The Giving Tree.
It's the story of a small boy who is always playing around the tree (picking apples, resting in the shade). That tree brought him so much happiness and fun. Then he got older and started having "adult" problems. And he'd ask the tree for things and since the tree thought if he gave him those trees, the boy (now man) would play and be with him again. But he would take what he needed and leave, only coming back when he needed something. Pretty soon, all that was left was the stump of the tree.

When I was little, this was just a silly book about a tree and a boy. I was in about 2nd grade. I'm heading into 9th grade now (I know, freshmen) and to relive some old memories, I read it again. It had me at tears. I had grown up (at least a bit) and now understood the way the story worked.

It wasn't just a story about a tree! It was a a book about loving the things that make you happy and never taking advantage of the things and people that love you. The boy had taken everything from the tree (it's apples, it's lumber, it's branches) because the tree wanted the little boy that loved him back. I think if our old children toys could feel, they would feel the same way. Abandoned, left behind. All those barbies you never play with anymore, those dolls and trucks and those weird Baby Alive babies. They all got left behind as we grew up. The little boy grew up as well.

The little boy grew into a person who was busy to sit in the tree's shade, too old to climb it's branches, too mature to make crowns out of it's leaves. It's a metaphor really. I think what it's trying to say is that when people mature and grow into adults, they leave the imagination and the happiness behind. They focus of business, of making money, and not on the things that made them happy.

See, this is something I love about YA and YA authors. Because they are people who haven't let go of their imagination, of what makes them happy. They've held on to their childhood and molded it to make people like us happy. They are those adults that don't leave the tree behind. When i'm older, I won't leave the tree behind.

Writing this makes me want to read it again :) It's a really beautiful story, even though it's not long at all and has pictures and you can only find it in the children's section at the store.

Now I have a question for you guys. Will you leave the tree behind?

Happy Reading,
-Harmony B.