A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

by Betty Smith

Sometimes publishers and reviewers have the audacity to promote a newly published book as a “classic.”  In my opinion a classic is a book of excellence that has stood the test of time and is judged to be worthy of reading and rereading by future generations. First published in 1943, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is such a book. Written by Betty Smith, it is fiction but it has its basis in Betty Smith’s own coming of age in Brooklyn.

The protagonist is Francie, a girl who grows up in difficult circumstances of poverty with an alcoholic father who is nonetheless likable. Her mother favors her younger brother over Francie knowing she will be able to succeed in spite of her background. Francie, like Betty Smith herself, from a young age is a reader and a writer. Francie’s mother, Katie, works cleaning houses and believes with all of her being that education is the route to success for her children. She insists that her children read a page from Shakespeare and the Bible each night. She evens barters piano lessons for herself and Francie, with little brother Neeley, who inherited his father’s musical aptitude, watching. Their father Johnny worked as a singing waiter when he could get employment.

There is not a plot per se in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; it is a recounting of a family’s struggle to survive. The reader is immersed in the setting, the culture, and the characters. Despite the lack of twists, cliff hangers, climax, and denouement, this novel is a page turner of a gentle sort. Ripe with symbolism, this book is perfect for discussion and introspection. It opens the door to an era gone by and good hearted, imperfect people who want to keep their dysfunctional families intact and give their children a better life than they had. It is the fight for the American Dream set down on paper.

Rating: 5/5

Category: Classic, Literary Fiction

Publication:  1943—Harper Collins

Memorable Lines:

Mama explained: “Francie is entitled to one cup each meal like the rest. If it makes her feel better to throw it away rather than to drink it, all right. I think it’s good that people like us can waste something once in a while and get the feeling of how it would be to have lots of money and not have to worry about scrounging.”

“Who wants to die? Everything struggles to live. Look at that tree growing up there out of that grating. It gets no sun, and water only when it rains. It’s growing out of sour earth. And it’s strong because its hard struggle to live is making it strong. My children will be strong that way.”

Oh, the last time how clearly you see everything; as though a magnifying light had been turned on it. And you grieve because you hadn’t held it tighter when you had it every day.