The Tree of Meaning: Language, Mind and Ecology

My comment is not about the book supplier, The Book Depository, who delivered the book on time and unblemished. Nor is it about the content; this book is filled with Robert Bringhurst's wisdom. It is about the quality of the publishing. This is an ugly book: for example, the type is not sharp and often bleeds into the paper and some letters on some pages have thick ascenders and some don't. Before I noticed these defects, I noticed that my eyes didn't like reading the text; they had trouble focusing on the fuzzy print. This is a bitter irony considering that well-published Bringhurst books are quite beautiful and that Bringhurst himself takes part in their design. And then, the American publisher Counterpoint LLC has added an embarrassing Introduction intended for its American market. One can only hope that Bringhurst's hands were tied during the production of this book.For only a few dollars more, you can still purchase the original runs of this book and its companion, Everywhere Being is Dancing (also republished by Counterpoint), from the high quality publisher Gaspereau Press. I have. Now, what to do with my Counterpoint editions?

If you occasionally despair about the condition of the world, it might seem strange to seek out the curative powers of a linguist rather than an analyst, but that's my advice. This book will cost you less than ten minutes of therapy and will have a more lasting effect. Wherever you start to read among these lectures, you'll be restored to a world full of mystery and beauty.Jim Harrison, in his introduction, says that Robert Bringhurst's prose "...tends to push at the confines of whatever room you are reading in so that the four corners seem to be much further away than normal." He is exactly right. And often the four corners fall away altogether. Bringhurst reveals a landscape that is luminous, deeply symbolic and saturated with meaning. It is not only the natural world it is--surprise!--your own consciousness joined with it. Consciousness, that fine and rich field that has been so depleted by the stupidity of modern life, suddenly stretches away freely in all directions.Creativity once again opens outward, and the natural world once again speaks inwardly. Nothing has really changed except your way of perception, but sometimes that means that everything is irrevocably changed. The shift was so slight and so deft that you don't even know by what magic this happiness was achieved.One of the lectures, called Poetry and Thinking, is so rich with ideas that you will find yourself staring out the window, lost in thought, after almost every paragraph. It's not that the ideas are difficult or dazzlingly intellectual; it's that they are so simple and true and so worthy of contemplation. You stare into space, and space stares back. Space is nothing you will want to take for granted.In the final essay, Bringhurst says: "Poetry is the breathing hole in the ice of identity." It's not a beautiful metaphor, and I don't know why it has stayed with me instead of one of his other remarkable phrases. Maybe because is it so uncomfortable, and so effective, as imagery. The entrapment beneath the layers of self, the desperation to escape, with only the most tenuous of openings. Being, vital and resonant, flourishes on the other side of the ice, but how do we access it? Poetry?!? Yes, poetry. The last open conduit. Is there an opportunity to expand the breathing hole--to break through the ice of identity altogether? Yes. It requires poetic thinking. Thinking that includes deep valuation of solitude; a humble interaction with wild places and wild creatures; a respect for otherness; a slow reading of human and inhuman signals; and profound awareness of language as the medium of our experiences.In this book, language is working through the agency of one who knows its subtlety and power. The richest aspects of art, self and nature are explored. There are marvelous passages on almost every page. It's a restorative experience to enter Bringhurst's world. His thoughts greatly expanded the dimensions of my own.

A Story as Sharp as a Knife (Masterworks of the Classical Haida Mythtellers) was the first book of Robert Bringhurst's that I read and I found it so interesting I began to look around for others. The Tree of Meaning is a collection of essays, which were given as lectures on the subjects of language, mind and ecology. Margaret Atwood wrote that `it's one of those works that rearranges the inside of your head - a profound mediation on the nature of oral poetry and myth, and on the habits of thought and feeling that inform them.' It's also about how we use language to make sense of the world, and how we can learn the language of the universe and develop a sustainable relationship with it.Robert Bringhurst is known for his work on the mythology and literature of the Haida nation. When challenged about why he spends so much time learning and researching `extinct' languages, he responds that they are of great practical value to us. `They are the legacy, after all, of peoples who knew how to live in this land for thousands of years without wrecking it.'Like fossils in rock, these languages tell us a lot about ourselves as well as the people who used them and are a cautionary tale for the present. `A language is a life-form, like a species of plant or animal. Once extinct, it is gone forever. And as each one dies, the intellectual gene pool of the human species shrinks.' We lose knowledge that can't be replaced; we lose diversity and progress further and further towards monoculture. `The structure of meaning,' Bringhurst asserts, `is polyphonic' - the more voices we lose, the nearer we get to monotony. A culture is an ecosystem - `the community we create for one another' that enables us to function as a human organism.He refers to the colonial policies that have led to the mass extinction of languages and cultures. Bringhurst thinks that the greatest danger to the planet is `those who think the world belongs to them' rather than those who think they belong to the world. Cultures are still being wiped out and Bringhurst cites the recent Bosnian war `where a tradition of oral, epic poetry survived from Homer's time ....... now, at this moment, the villages in which those poets lived are rubble and mass graves.'He homes in on our increasing numbers and the flawed logic of consumerism - `endlessly increasing material wealth for an endlessly increasing number of humans is a suicidal dream'. I have to agree with him, particularly when he identifies the moment it all went wrong - the moment when commerce changed from a public service meeting the needs of the community, to a predator, creating needs and strengthening demands `turning them into addictions which cause material goods to turn into drugs'. He doesn't claim to have answers, but he asks questions and thinks around them in an intelligent way.But he's best on language and poetry. All language, he reminds us, is metaphor - standing in for the thing itself. What makes a poem? In poetry `it is not the text that counts. However remarkable this text may be, its poetic quality depends on its author having known how to keep alive in it the light of what is beyond language.' And he's very good on metaphor. `In every tuneful metaphor, an interval is sounded. It is heard in the mind's eye, or the mind's ear ..... Two disjunct constituents of reality are evoked, on top of one another, like two bells rung at once. The interval is the simultaneous consonance and difference between them.'Simone Weil wrote that the purpose of works of art `is to testify, after the fashion of blossoming apple trees and stars.' Poetry, Bringhurst adds, `is the thinking of things'. Though this resonates with me at an emotional level, I'm not entirely sure what he means by it in plain words. It made me think of Rilke's lines from the Duino ElegiesAre we, perhaps, here just for saying: House,Bridge, Fountain, Gate, Jug, Fruit tree, Window, -possibly: Pillar, Tower?... but for saying, remember,oh, for such saying as never the things themselveshoped so intensely to be.A tree has its own truth, a plant or a rock, or a star - anything we say about them can only be at second hand - though as a writer I try to get as close as I can to Rilke's intense `saying'. Stories and poems grow like trees from the roots of our language - as human beings we seem to need them. These are what Robert Bringhurst calls the `trees of meaning', trees that embody the whole history of our culture and take their place in the forest of cultures that have grown during the lifetime of human existence on the planet. Every tree that is cut down impoverishes our literature and our lives.According to Bringhurst, the original text is the world itself, a text that we, in our urban, consumer-driven citadels, are increasingly unable to interpret, even as our scientific knowledge of it grows. The general message of the book is that if we don't see ourselves as part of the ecology - the forest - of the whole planet, if we continue to exterminate other cultures and species instead of cultivating diversity, we won't survive, and our stories and mythologies will die with us.It's absolutely true, but I can't help believing that somewhere, somehow, a small group of humans will survive the catastrophe and become feral and their language too will escape into the wild, throw down new roots and grow new branches. I can't imagine what it will look like, but on one of the twigs there just might be the story of a man and a woman, a utopia, and a fruit that gave forbidden knowledge and brought expulsion, destruction and ruin.

Poetic and precise, this is a beautiful collection of lectures which are as easy to read as they are beautiful. Bringhurst is answering questions around how to preserve the vitality of culture and even how language can have any real meaning.This really is a perfect book and will be loved by anyone who loves language and is determined to preserve (create) a diverse and rich culture.

Bringhurst's writing is thickly layered, exquisitely crafted, sobering, humorous, compassionate, dismissive, succinct, essential, humble and humbling. As earlier reviewers have said, it seems impossible to actually write about, only to point towards, as in Zen (at least for we unprofessional writers).I've read most of his published work and can't come up with a complaint that he doesn't undo with some other piece. I suppose he may never be Mainstream, at least in his lifetime, if that can be considered a flaw.