Real Trees, Fantasy Trees

There are two towering willow oaks located just off-property at my place of employment. They are located in a copse of trees connected to a greenway, an oasis of calm twixt the hustle and bustle of two public schools. Nearly every day I spend five to ten minutes of my break staring at the trees, trying to meditate. During my meditation, the trees exist in a sort of glorious detachment from the world surrounding them.

Of course, it’s possible that they’re not as detached as I think. In the past few decades multiple studies have proven that trees communicate and interact with one another. It appears that trees are capable of warning each other of danger, nurturing smaller trees, and developing symbiotic relationships with fungi, among other things.

This comes as no surprise to readers of fantasy fiction. From Tolkien’s tree-herding, tree-mirroring Ents to George R.R. Martin’s all-seeing weirwood trees (to a myriad of other examples), the trees that readers encounter in fantasy fiction often possess varying degrees of sentience. Why? I would argue that it’s because in their deepest heart of hearts fantasy writers understand that there is more to trees than meets the eye. Trees exist on a plane that humans don’t totally comprehend, a plane that speaks to the deeper mysteries of existence. We may march to the beat of our self-important drums, but the trees that pop up in fantasy fiction are one way that writers remind us that there are intelligences beyond our own.

I’m on the verge of releasing my epic fantasy novel, The Prophecy of the Yubriy Tree. Next month, I’ll reveal the cover and post pre-order links. As the title suggests, a very unique tree plays a central role in the book’s plot. For me, trees have long been a source of creative inspiration, a wellspring that I consistently draw from. I’m not the first to draw inspiration from trees, of course: artists of many shapes and stripes have done the same for centuries. But it’s the mystery of trees that keeps the symbolism fresh: it’s impossible to wear out a concept that isn’t entirely understood.

As for the willow oaks, I look forward to seeing them again in a few months. They’ll be waiting, distant and detached. Or maybe it will just seem that way. Maybe they’re paying closer attention than I think.

P.S. If you want a glimpse into the world of The Prophecy of the Yubriy Tree, be sure to download Last Performance at the Three Dragons Inn, available for free to all newsletter subscribers.