Beyond the Pages: The Legacy of Our Words
by L. A. Mitchell
I worry about many things as a writer. Will characters land in my reader’s imagination the way I intended? Have I successfully suspended disbelief? Have I been sensitive to issues and identities explored in my pages? Was my story worth the investment of the reader’s money and time?
Lately, I’ve been preoccupied with a new concern. At first, it might seem distant and nuanced, but it’s deeply connected to the nature of books. Their legacy, lasting years beyond their creation, raises valid and thought-provoking questions about their long-term impact on audiences.
Will this story be relevant as society continues to evolve?
I’ve been thinking about one of my favorite childhood books, The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein.
For those who never read or don’t remember, the story follows the relationship between a boy and a tree (she/her) that starts playfully innocent and evolves as the boy ages. Each time, the boy stays away for longer periods of time, living his life, and each time he returns, as a young man, then middle-aged, then as an older man, he asks something of the tree. The tree offers what she can (leaves, apples, wood) and says it makes her happy. In the end, when she has nothing left to give, she offers his tired old body a stump to sit and rest.
For some reason, I had two copies of The Giving Tree.
One contained a handwritten note from my godmother: Laura, may you forever be like the tree. As a young elementary school teacher, that same book occupied my classroom library. I’d look at it with a fondness of familiarity and share it with my students occasionally.
As a woman who has raised her adult daughter to go out into the world and set boundaries that she often could not, I am rethinking my entire relationship with this story.
My Thoughts on The Giving Tree Today
Nearly forty-five years exist between the girl who wanted so very much to be like that tree and the woman who, many days, feels like the stump at the end who has nothing left to give.
Certainly, it is a lesson in servitude, generosity, and selflessness as a form of unconditional love. But it’s also a sad little problematic story that portrays a deeply unhealthy relationship with no boundaries or reciprocity.
The realization that my godmother wished me to be forever like the tree adds a layer of complexity to my relationship with the story.
Is this fair? Probably not. It’s akin to looking at history through a modern lens and passing judgment on all we did not know or believe in our less-enlightened form. But it gives me pause to consider how the stories I’ve put into the world will fare with future readers.
- Have I tackled the content as evergreen portrayals of deeply human conflict?
- Have I leaned into my conditioning, biases, and belief system that may be perceived as unhealthy someday?
- Have the ideals and attitudes I injected into my characters doomed them to antiquity, incapable of connecting with ideal readers forty-five years from now?
Is our writing today meant to be a snapshot or timeless?
Let’s examine some stories.
In the early 20th century…
The Great Gatsby was very much a product of its time. Yet, the idea of challenging class, wealth, and the emptiness of materialism are concepts that resonate with today’s readers. Only eleven years apart, Gone With the Wind leaned heavily into romanticizing an era without much objectivity or sensitivity.
In the mid-20th century…
In the era of The Catcher in the Rye and Lolita, J.D. Salinger’s work tapped into an angst-ridden teenager and the trials of youth with a strong message for mental health. Four years apart, Vladimir Nabokov’s critique on obsession and perversion does not always find sympathetic readers in the modern age.
More recently…
Andy Weir’s The Martian ages well with themes of optimism and ingenuity. As humankind overcomes challenges with space exploration, the setup and context may seem old-fashioned, but science and survival narratives will always transcend any specific moment in society. Six years apart, modern readers are increasingly critical of the wildly popular Twilight books.
Should Stephenie Meyer’s massive hit series be appreciated as a snapshot of society’s attitudes toward feminism and healthy relationships, or does it merit a stronger look at how the narrative could still be problematic to modern readers?
Modern Thoughts on The Giving Tree
If I were to rewrite The Giving Tree today, it would likely be a parable about balance and mutual respect over self-sacrifice and martyrdom. But those themes betray the lessons Shel Silverstein intended.
Perhaps I should shift my perception to one of celebration—to recognize how far the dialogue regarding mental health and evolving societal roles has come—instead of remaining sad about the brokenness I feel toward a once cherished story.
Shel Silverstein never fancied himself a children’s writer.
The Giving Tree, ranked 85th in the School Library Journal’s Top 100 picture books of all time, wasn’t even his favorite. To the day of his death, the author insisted there was no greater meaning, no weightier interpretation.
“It’s just a relationship between two people. One gives, and the other takes.”
Even at its simplest, the way the author intended it, the fact that it was aimed at children is the most problematic.
Over the years, many have injected their interpretations into the 600-word story, calling it:
- a study of the ego and the self
- a metaphor for a capitalist society
- a parable about technology taking advantage of the tree’s labor to create inferior products that never quench the boy’s needs
- a cautionary environmental tale
Religious, psychological, sociological, satirical—nearly all facets of thought have weighed in since the book’s publication in 1964.
Final Thought
Art will always beg for alternative thoughts. Is the provocation of societal narratives, the spark of conversation to decide where we collectively wish to be, the greatest legacy our writing can have? Or is it more desirable to aim for touchpoints of our collective humanity so that future generations will look upon our books with favor?
What are your thoughts? As writers, do we carry the burden for the present and future audiences? Should legacy be considered at any point in a project’s creation? We'd love to hear your thoughts down in the comments!
* * * * * *
About Laura
L.A. (Laura) Mitchell is a seasoned ghostwriter with 39 published works behind her. Her expertise spans genres, from heartwarming romances to thought-provoking non-fiction. Her YA fantasy, Farthermost, originally a ghostwritten novel for which she purchased the rights back, was an April 2023 feature of Amazon's Kindle Vella program. Beyond writing, Laura is a coach, editor, and publishing assistant, helping authors refine their craft and achieve a successful book launch. In her downtime, she’s also learning Korean to move away from subtitles while binging the latest Kdramas. She loves meeting writers at all stages, so reach out to her through her socials or website and subscribe to her biweekly newsletter for writers.
Farthermost on Vella: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BLY3CQB7/
Website: https://www.la-mitchell.com
Also: https://buymeacoffee.com/lamitchell
Top Image purchased from Depositphotos.
Leave a Reply
30 comments on “Beyond the Pages: The Legacy of Our Words”
Subscribe to WITS
Recent Posts
- What's Your Character's "WHY"?
- How Substack is Revolutionizing Writing Careers
- Capture Readers with the Magic of Interactive Fiction
- The problem with “fantasy races” (and what to use instead!)
- How Small Setting Elements Can Pack Big Emotional Hits
Interesting thoughts. It's extremely difficult to know what will resonate with society in the future, and how to build in longevity. We have no idea what society will be like then.
Take Jane Austin as an example. The society she wrote about is far removed from anything today, yet her books are well loved and are considered classics. Yet the writing style is somewhat different from what we accept as 'good writing' today.
She uses passive voice, 'tells' her readers, has incredibly long sentences and paragraphs. One sentence that would be immediately struck out by editors today is 'The carriage began to be waited for.'
Novels that give an insight into the past, like The Great Gatsby and Jane Austin (in spite of her old fashioned writing style) will probably survive.
What a great example, V.M. Austen's strong heroines and timeless exploration of women's lives...the threads that are ageless...is my best guess. This gives me hope that if I write a meandering and wickedly bloated sentence that it may still be loved in the future. 🙂
Wow - I really loved this thought-provoking post. I guess we all dream of writing something great that will stand the test of time and provide a meaningful legacy...but maybe we're doomed in that we're all products of our time and can't see into the future enough to know that what resonates with us now will still resonate forty, fifty, a hundred years later. Maybe all we can do is write our own truth.
I think there are universal themes that remain constant through history- things like inequality, justice, our own inner conflicts - as you mentioned. I guess the danger is that we're blind to our own biases. Maybe my takeaway here is that first I need to write a book that's strong enough to gain an audience...but that if I can touch on those universal themes in a meaningful way then maybe that book will stand the test of time. Here's hoping!!
Thanks again for sharing this - it's really got me thinking!
"Maybe all we can do is write our own truth."
This is so powerful, Becky. And it may be the best answer to the entire question.
And you're right: if we don't satisfy today's audiences, there is only obscurity, not longevity.
Thanks so much for commenting 🙂
I love this answer, Becky. I comfort myself constantly with the idea that I only have to please myself in that first draft. Then I can dig in and add all that universal, profound, theme-y stuff. I don't know if it will give the books a longer life, but at least I make myself happy during the process. 🙂
Becky, I love your ideas. Focusing on universal themes opens the door for a remembered work. When a writer pours hundreds of hours into a novel, you can bet there is a profound nugget of wisdom that is the motivating force. In some reader's minds that nugget might shine like a diamond. For others, it may need polishing to be a major attraction. Either way, a writer has no control over the reaction of readers today or tomorrow. The author can only take joy in having created a masterpiece (even if it is only in his/her mind).
Not all writers seek legacy status; many don't care beyond their own lifetimes how they will be read and perceived. It's a business they're hoping to be good at - and sometimes give a portrait of the world or our societies that the future readers might find interesting.
We read few of the Horatio Alger-type stories and similar today - unless they are current and help people of today handle their own lives now. They simply don't translate to our times, and we don't understand the times they were written in except as a curiosity. They still served their purpose: teaching reading and morality to their intended audience, young working men.
The reason we read some of the classics - Jane Eyre, for a specific example - is because the CONCEPTS are more universal - and the writing is excellent.
It takes more time to write well.
And it takes a lot more work to aim for legacy. If you want that capacity, you have to build it in.
When I read a few pages into my childhood copy of Jane Eyre, I notice how compelling and immersive it still is, even if the society portrayed is in the past, and much stiffer than our own. And we still cheer Jane's refusal to make decisions against her own conscience, even when it is life-altering for her. That concept is universal.
I aim for legacy - and do the work - and it's still going to be iffy. But if I didn't make that effort, if I settled for less than I can do, I have no right to hope.
"And it takes a lot more work to aim for legacy. If you want that capacity, you have to build it in."
I'm fascinated by this, and you may be right. So...I'm curious. Does it happen in the conceptual stage? In the character development? In the setting-as-character that delivers an immersive experience? Can we ever write intentionally "deep" or is that a construct strictly in the reader's perception?
I enjoyed reading your perspective. Thanks so much for commenting.
Yes - to every question.
It requires (for me - I'm an extreme plotter; you'd have to ask a major pantser) detailed plotting - otherwise things won't connect, and the layers will be a geological catastrophe.
It requires multidimensional characters - if you want believable realistic ones, with motivations and goals.
It will be suffused with universal themes.
And the writing will draw the reader in, neither navel gazing nor apocalyptic, but gentle and persuasive and relentless. No infodumps, no overwriting, no purple or florid prose.
The writer doesn't get to slack off - the details must be impeccable, chosen to amplify and particularize - there are specific skills which must be acquired: writing a fight scene, a betrayal, a seduction; the tension must be maintained throughout - the reader mustn't have a chance to bail.
It is fully intentional - the writer remains in control of the reader's experience, for the reader's delight.
There are many books which teach the individual bits - you take how to execute deep third pov from one, painting a scene you could use in a theater production from another. Stephen King, in 'On Writing,' calls it a tool box.
Oh, and it's a lot of fun.
Powerful post, Laura! I do wonder about how my stories will age. Some I feel are timeless, others I worry about!
I feel the same way. Some of my stories feel like a bag of Skittles...fun for a time but a bit empty almost immediately. Others feel like a meal that have the potential to shift the way others think. Makes me wonder if an author should aim for all Skittles, all meal, or a mix...because who doesn't want candy every now and then?
The mix sounds nice and healthy. Because definitely we need candy, too!
Hi Laura,
I try to go with timeless themes for children's books but it's not simple. For instance technology will always change, and who knows, we may all be telepathic in 20 years. Wouldn't that be interesting!
The Giving Tree depressed me, as a child. It is my least favorite book for children.Interestingly, it is the ex's favorite childhood book. That speaks volumes.
This is a thought provoking post.
It's so odd how I didn't see it as a child, but I see it so strongly now. Like how did the adults in the publishing world not give this book's message a second thought?
I've found out through the writing of this post that someone *did* revisit The Giving Tree...A playwright and screenwriter named Topher Payne. Here's the link if you're interested: https://lithub.com/somebody-finally-fixed-the-ending-of-the-giving-tree/
Oh! I will absolutely go follow that link. Thanks, Laura!
Interesting and thought-provoking. I vaguely recall the Giving Tree book, maybe it wasn't a favorite because giving all and getting nothing in return doesn't resonate with me. I tend to be a giver, but have learned the boundaries that keep a relationship sustainable.
Times do change. I recall a sweet, loving woman who worked in the nursery at church who recommended a book and brought me her copy. Written many years before, I found the story-telling painfully slow for our rapid-paced word and Law & Order boom-boom/next scene short attention spans.
Mindsets also change. Things that were acceptable - or shocking - a few decades ago are not anymore. My goal is to write stories that make me and my current readers happy since I don't have a crystal ball to the future,
I was sad to revisit one of my *favorite* novels ten years later and realize it wasn't as good as I remembered. Indeed, tastes change. Sounds like you have a healthy approach to it all. Thanks so much for commenting! 🙂
Becoming an author also changes your ability to enjoy books the way we did prior to learning how to write and "the rules" that go with it. 😉
Isn't that the truth???!
You already know I love this post, Laura. It made me think, and it made me want to go back and do another draft on my existing story to make sure I'm punching up those universal themes. As Alicia says, it's WORK to give a story "legs" (aka longevity).
I absolutely believe, as Alicia said, that this happens at a story's conception, but I also believe it can be infused in the small, quiet moments, like an amazing line of dialogue in just the right moment. Good on you for diving back into revisions to send love and respect to your future readers. 🙂
It depends on the genre we're writing. Some genres have evolved with the times, and what was acceptable just a decade ago may not be okay now. If one is writing from an historical context, there are words used in the past which would not be okay to use now (racist, ableist, sexist, etc), regardless of the so-called "accuracy." There's a reason we have sensitivity editors available to us.
While we can't fully write for the future, we can be mindful, and then write accordingly.
"While we can't fully write for the future, we can be mindful, and then write accordingly."
This has absolutely been my practice with several clients' work. We are so grateful to our sensitivity readers! As far as ghostwriting, it's been tricky, at times, with memoir. The goal is to capture the authenticity of thoughts that shaped their decisions, but when looking back over a long life, it is through a filter of the times. Thanks so much for your thoughts, Denise 🙂
My answer to your question, no, carry no burden. Art is a process not an end result. Those who can not create interpret. Creating specifically for a message or market is commerce, engineering an end result. Art is emotion on paper or in stone or of wood.
Write for you, if the end is full of all the magic of story and character and style it may thrive through the ages. If you aim for legacy you are marketing toward a future consumer and may easily miss the mark today. Love the story while it lives in the creation, if the love shows young readers will catch that and remember and pass along to the future this small moment of inspiration.
As authors, write for joy, finish and move to the next creation of wonder you have in you. Be a creator not an interpreter.
I love everything about this reply. So thoughtful and eloquent. Thanks for your words, Sam 🙂
I absolutely adore this comment, Sam! A perfect way to express why we do this crazy thing we love.
Thank you for this essay! The Giving Tree always made me uneasy. My life has been about service - I spent twenty years in the military, then had a second career as a psychotherapist - but always with an expectation of reciprocity. In the Marine Corps, the relationship between leader and follower was always a two-way street. As a company commander I was obligated to make sure my people's needs were met and to be their advocate, at the same time they were obligated to follow my orders. As a therapist, that reciprocity came from my employers rather than my clients, but it was there, and the relationships with clients carried some responsibilities on their part too.
The book reminded me of a story my mother told me once. She had a conversation with an elderly relative, a woman in her eighties, who had three children who had dedicated their lives to their mother. They had never married or really had their own lives (they were in their sixties themselves) because they were so centered on being there for their mother. She told Mom that she hoped Mom's children would be as devoted as hers; Mom told me the idea made her skin crawl and said that was not at all what she wanted for my siblings and me. She lived a life of service herself, as a teacher, but was no martyr.
I've had similar reflections on books I've loved at different points in my life, and then looked back on and seen them quite differently and as more problematic than I'd realized when I was younger. I've only written non-fiction so far (clinical reference books) but still want to write novels now that I'm fully retired. This gives me more to think about as I'm building stories. Thanks again.
What a thoughtful post, Jim. And I love the story about your mom. In many ways, I see the writer-reader relationship the same, not only the act of reading and its inherent cost and expectations, but inside the story world, as well. Story happens when both give something. Thank you so much for your comment 🙂
Laura,
Thank you for the delightful article. I believe many writers leave a legacy with lessons to be learned.
I still love The Giving Tree. It somewhat parallels my life.
After thirty-two years in the classroom and as a retired educator, I believe we are blessed to be a blessing.
Thanks so much for you comment Jackie. And thank you for all your years in the classroom. I remember my six years fondly, but to look back on a legacy in education such as yours must make you so proud. Happy writing 🙂