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A review by kali
Understory: a life with trees by Inga Simpson
5.0
I thought I might savour this book, immerse myself in Inga Simpson's descriptions of trees on her hinterland property but I consumed it like a bushfire. I wonder about the seedlings she planted and tended, whether they have survived the current fires. If they have, they will regenerate, if not, become habitat and charcoal for new growth.
My heart raced and stalled throughout this book: I found resonances. I have lived on a rural property for eight years, but apart from the fruit trees I planted, a bottlebrush, lilly pillies, and a port magnolia, I could not name the trees that surround me. By any name, in any language. I do not have "nature sight" as Inga Simpson does. I have battled weeds advancing on my house, like triffids, rather than noble tree warriors from Middle Earth, and suffered termite damage, rotting structural timbers, and an overwhelming lack of hope of living any sort of Good Life. I want out. Though I am hampered by banking arrangements. The bane of both mine and Inga Simpson's lives.
Where Inga Simpson differs, and what inspires in this hybrid memoir, is her vulnerability that, like the forest that loses limbs undergrowth and canopy, lets in the light. She suffers loss and the worst of human nature, yet, a little scarred, she grows with the trees.
My heart raced and stalled throughout this book: I found resonances. I have lived on a rural property for eight years, but apart from the fruit trees I planted, a bottlebrush, lilly pillies, and a port magnolia, I could not name the trees that surround me. By any name, in any language. I do not have "nature sight" as Inga Simpson does. I have battled weeds advancing on my house, like triffids, rather than noble tree warriors from Middle Earth, and suffered termite damage, rotting structural timbers, and an overwhelming lack of hope of living any sort of Good Life. I want out. Though I am hampered by banking arrangements. The bane of both mine and Inga Simpson's lives.
Where Inga Simpson differs, and what inspires in this hybrid memoir, is her vulnerability that, like the forest that loses limbs undergrowth and canopy, lets in the light. She suffers loss and the worst of human nature, yet, a little scarred, she grows with the trees.