The Maytrees by Annie Dillard

I know I tend to read a lot of fluff, though I am sometimes influenced by what I read in the NY Times Book Review. I had never read anything by Annie Dillard, though I thought I should have, so I chose The Maytrees as my introduction to her writing. Based solely on the cover (clean & simple) and the size (slim), I thought I could handle it.

At first, I found myself needing to reread bits of the story, and then, to my horror, I had to consult the dictionary more than once. Having bought my seven year old a pocket dictionary for her bedside, I found myself sneaking off with it. I felt the need to brush up on my reading: Kafka, Plato, Aristotle, Diogenes, Galileo, Tolstoy and many others are referenced (prehistoric Aleuts, anyone?). A working knowledge of constellations is also helpful. Trying to save myself from getting out of my comfortable seat, I ask my husband once for help. When he doesn’t readily know the answer, he says, “What’s the context?” and I mutter back to him, “yes, I can do that without your help, thank you very much.”

But then, something wonderful happens. The story, which seemed to move so slowly at first (dictionary breaks), catches me up. Toby and Lou Maytree’s love affair spans the decades of their lives; through infatuation, marriage, childbirth, friendships, betrayal and the nitty gritty of dying. Cape Cod’s Provincetown, is beautifully evoked, and offers up a group of oddballs and artists perfect for this beach community. Lou, a voracious reader, and Toby, a poet and a reader himself, begin to matter to me, without my even knowing it. I say this because when their marriage falters, I am stunned to feel how heavy my heart is as I read. The fact that there is more to it than that, that we still care about Toby and Lou and their lives beyond this moment, is a tribute to the author and the characters she has given us. The simplicity with which she renders two death scenes will touch anyone who has attended to the dying of a loved one.

I can get past the dictionary thing. I double-checked before I wrote this, and even the Times’ reviewer Julia Reed had to stop and consult her dictionary more than once, so I feel much better. Reed writes that Eudora Welty, who initially reviewed Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, quoted a passage and then wrote, “I honestly do not know what she is talking about at such times.”

I admit I picked the shortest book on my shelf so that I could “honestly” achieve my book a week. Having realized that I am going to have to pick up the pace (I have a two year supply on my shelves), I have been angling for the best way to do it. The Maytrees, it turns out, were not as simple as they appeared. But afterwards, I felt a little bit smarter and a little bit happier, for having spent my time with them.