The Forest: A Novel

Titles, history, extensive description of slopes,valleys,trees,deer on and on and on. Overloaded trying to figure out what I was reading. After reading 40 percent of this book I just stopped. couldn't read another paragraph!

One of my favorite books. A fascinating look at history told by following the stories of different families. Well worth the time spent to read it. But I still think Rutherford's "London" is even better!

My goodness. Does this line from Edward Rutherfurd's The Forest not resonate? ". . . but the personal tragedy remained, like a tree that continues growing, despite a change in yearly weather." Like all good historical fiction, Rutherfurd's creations of tragic characters is the meat-on-the-bone. History and a respect for what actually happens typically drives the pacing of a historical novel, but it is the meat, the juicy aspects of conflict imposed and burdened, that provides the reader with a desire to see what happens next. In that sad little testimonial to the weight of Fanny Albion's duty we are prodded to read on, made aware to the fact that these life situations have always been hung around the necks of those who won't turn from obligation and responsibility. Family tragedy like that of Alice Lisle, actually put to death in the time of James II, was the albatross that would isolate poor Fanny. For as much as her father and aunt certainly loved the young woman, Fanny's value as a human being grew into that of a living crypt keeper. I can identify with that. Although I could never deviate from my current caregiver role, a life that Rutherfurd perfectly wrote into his Fanny, I know that it is the list of chores I see to that has become the totality of my existence. It's neither enriching nor enjoyable. For all the characters and interelations that lace The Forest into a lovely tale, indeed, it is the tale of Fanny's burden that hits hardest. Reverend Gilpin and Mrs. Pride recognizing that the lady needed to be away from "the old people" was such an insightful observation. I cannot help but wonder if Rutherfurd has shouldered the duty of care for the aged or the ill in his family circle. His writing of the malaise that enveloped a weary Fanny seemingly speaks to an intimate understanding of the life, whether the author experienced that life personally or he came to appreciate it through other means. Did Mrs. Pride have something to do with Adelaide's fall and the consumption of Albion House? Can't help but love the understaded way that the author left the consideration to breathe with his audience, especially after footnoting that the estate's mistress knew that something had to done to effect Fanny's rescue from her depression and imprisonment. Although fire is typically thought of as a destructive force in reality, in the case of the author's tragic character, as a literary device, the flames and circumstances brought to a head by said consumption set free the deserving soul. Although I'd fight with every fiber of my being to save the lives that isolate me should such a holocaust happen to my home, for Fanny, I felt happiness when the seemingly insurmountable obstacles of her personal and family tragedy were removed. That's the kind of emotional connection with the reader that any author would be pleased to have achieved. Indeed, sir. Well done. A change of weather, unencumbered by the situations that bind us to unhappy realities, is something I would wish for anyone so betrothed.