“They learned no compassion from their own anguish. Thus their suffering was wasted.”
Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
There was a good film of the same name based on Betty Smith’s autobiographical novel, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which came out shortly after the book was published in 1943. But as it went during the days of the Hays Code of “decency,” much of the book could not be filmed due to content that the movie people figured viewers would be offended by. This involved a wildly over-sexed female character, pedophiles, alcoholism, antisemitism, children pulled from school to work after sixth grade, suicide, racism and persevering only for the sake of survival, for no greater aim than to prolong the misery. Some of those topics (especially the gentle father’s self destruction via the bottle) were addressed passingly while others were let alone.
The novel centers on a sensitive and intelligent young girl named Francie Nolan who grew up (like the author) in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn early in the 20th century. Slum and extreme poverty. Smith tells the truth in the book. About the shopkeepers who lured children into backrooms, one of Francie’s fun-loving aunts going from man to man without shame, and the examination of children who love one parent more than the other and parents who feel the same way.
One of the finest characters is Francie’s maternal grandmother, who is illiterate and married to an abusive man. She is a saintly person but one who earns it through her attitude and belief that a poor person, especially children, should cultivate fantasy worlds as a means of having a refuge from the life they have to live.
The metaphor of the tree is simple yet accurate. Recently I counted “Trees-of-Heaven” (Ailanthus-altissima) in vacant lots and roadsides during my walk, three thousand miles and a century away from Francie Nolan, and stopped when I reached ten. Goddam things can grow anywhere. In the end, there is hope, but it is hard won simply because of a lack of money. It’s the same thing that is happening today and has always been happening. Programs and meetings and slogans and such are of no use unless you can put ketchup on those things and eat them.
There are, however, fewer differences between the novel and film of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn than some you will find in other film treatments of novels. Sometimes Hollywood gets ridiculous: in the film adaptation of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the obviously gay “Fred” of Capote’s book is transformed into the hetero love interest of Holly Golightly, played by George Peppard. And there’s also an embarrassing turn by Mickey Rooney in the film as the Japanese landlord. I make mention of this because too often people first see the film and never read the book because they saw the movie.
I recently re-read the novel after many years and it holds up beautifully because it tells the truth. It is also uniquely structured by opening with several chapters based on one day in the life of the neighborhood, introducing the main players, then falling back years and proceeding in a linear fashion. This choice is brilliant and gives the story a depth it would not have otherwise.
If you have yet to read it or have only seen the film on TCM–or your nation’s equivalent, I encourage you to give it a look.
literally stories 
A strong recomendation for this one and interesting that ‘back in the day’ it was all the same as ‘the good old days’ and so on – nothing changes and at times it makes you lose hope. But then, an old lady in a fantasy world to protect herself from a grim reality appeals to me no end. Great review- thanks Leila
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Thank you Diane
The good old days ain’t what they used to be. I imagine that a trip back a hundred or so years ago would yield more faces with smallpox scars than smiles. ‘Tis all relative, I ‘spose
Leila
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An excellent review. Thanks for calling this book and movie to our attention.
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Thank you David
Both the book and film are quite good, but there were some events in the book that would never have been filmed until 1970s.
Leila
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Like any good review, this certainly grabbed my interest. I was also surprised about to read about the Tree of Heaven, which I only knew as a favourite wood for wood-turners. Googled it to discover that it’s classed as an invasive species in England and Wales as well as the USA, but (like Dutch Elm Disease) it doesn’t like the climate in Scotland. At least, it doesn’t like the climate at the moment.
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Hello and thank you, Michael
I admire plants so determined to live that they can grow anywhere. There are endless fields of Scotch broom here that have beautiful yellow blooms but then their seed pods crack in late summer and are hell on pollen allergies. The stuff and the Tree of Heaven grow, along with wild blackberries almost everywhere. There are people who rent out little Goat herds to clean up lots of the broom and blackberries. But we need a lot more Goats!
Leila
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Leila – As you can imagine, the same problems here. I’ve spend many thousands of hours removing ivy. The goat solution has been oversold I believe because they don’t eat the roots and the plants come back.
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Hi Leila,
If ever a review would make someone read a book, this would be it.
You put this across brilliantly.
Hugh
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Hello Hugh
I am afraid I used up whatever semi-intelligent words I had on Doug’s reply.
But I still appreciate your support as much as ever!
Leila
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Leila –
Read Breakfast At Tiffany’s, but not “Tree”. I remember from the book an African holding his genitals when remembering Holly. Of course my memory continues to be corrupted by the frequent and continuing application of a neuralyzer. Yes, the Mick Rooney part was horrible. It had been common during WWII (dehumanizing the enemy to make killing acceptable), but horrible in the 1960s. Maybe I should read “Tree”.
On the subject of good old days, I remember our grade school bus driver circa early 1950s cautioning us to stay away from a certain service station using veiled language. The barber shop a little later that was busted for stag films in the back. A girl in grade school that didn’t take baths because of a pervert father.
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Thank you Doug
I recall reading Tiffany’s in one night, more what is called by some a novella. Brilliant little thing, both it and the author. How Capote could write so well and have such a mess of a life is fascinating. If not for Audrey Hepburn, Cat and Moon River the film would have been forgotten long ago. (Patricia Neal and Barnaby Clampett we’re effective–Rooney not so much and Peppard never really made it as big as wanted despite the push he got from the producers).
Indeed Goats are more a case of weed whackers on hooves.
And yes, the past had virtues but watching Ozzie and Harriet won’t show anyone what it was really like.
Thank you and keep on keeping the beat!
Leila
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As you implied, name forgotten got to be a Clampett because somebody remembered him from “Breakfast”. Two solid grooves from dead people (when they were alive) – Gordo’s “Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald” and the late lamented Marvin’s “Got To Give It Up” which has a long version so heavy you can walk on it. Keeping the beat is now filmed in videos promoting stories, so I have that.
Editor was in a bathroom stall next to Patricia in Tahiti. I spotted Eartha Kitt. They may have been entertaining on another cruise ship in port.
I’ve heard Truman’s stock dropped when the society crowd turned on him.
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Definitely another one I need to pick up and read. I remember watching Hollywood’s 1940 treatment of The Grapes of Wrath which is generally a feted film, but being so disappointed in the upbeat ending which couldn’t be further from the end of the book.
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Thank you Paul
Yes they did back of on Wrath. The Hays code would never allow “Rosasharn” to nurse the fella in the barn–but the “We the people” speech was obviously tacked on, a bit of a sell out and inconsistent with the message. Jane Darwell was a great Ma Joad–even though she had to play a watered down version of the lady. Funny thing was not once did they show a duster. Probably couldn’t afford the effect.
Leila
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Being from Brooklyn, I read “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” a long time ago — maybe in the ’70’s. I came to it warily, worried it would be hyper-sentimentalized dreck. I found it strong medicine, but terrific.
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is my favorite thing ever, in part because of its sheer wonderfulness (the novella, of course; the film is Hollywood assembly-line product). I’ve memorized the first sentence (“I am always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods”) and think the first paragraph is perfect.
The other reason I like “Tiffany’s” so much is that I first read it on an all-night drive (with several others) from the Upper Midwest, where I had just finished my master’s degree, to the East Coast. We arrived in Washington DC shortly after sunrise and drove up onto Capitol Hill (which you could do then); the only person, as far as we could see, protecting the Capitol was a potbellied security guard. How times have changed. It seemed like a time of unlimited possibility.
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Jon
Thank you for your comments. Tiffany’s is great, but that sure wasn’t the same book the movie came from!
Leila
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