(++++) NATURALLY CONNECTED

The Magnificent Banyan and the Green Tong Lau. By Stephanie Ellen Sy. Illustrated by Ishita Jain. Kokila. $18.99. 

     Understanding starts with the title: exotic-sounding to Western children, clear and straightforward to those from (or familiar with) Hong Kong. A tong lau is essentially a tenement building, a mixed-use structure with shops at the bottom and living quarters above – a common enough arrangement worldwide, but not one known everywhere by this name. This tong lau just happens to be green – a nod to the “nature” focus of the book. And the everyday activities of the residents of the tong lau are, like the structure itself, common in country after country. But again, the specifics differ: different games are played indoors and outside, different prayers are offered, different groups are gathered for different purposes. The gatherings and games of children, however, are much the same everywhere. And so is the determined resilience of nature, especially when given a small boost from small humans. 

     Banyan trees are an example of determination as well – certainly the one in Stephanie Ellen Sy’s book is – but they are also an example of the uncaring nature of Nature. They are a form of strangler fig, which means they generally root and grow by slowly and inexorably destroying a host tree: they are, in effect if not in a formal biological sense, parasites. However, banyans themselves are so impressive in appearance that their life cycle tends to be ignored. Certainly it is in Sy’s book, where the banyan of the title begins life not by invading an existing tree but as a seed dropped by a bird into a crevice in the tong lau. Nobody notices; indeed, parenthetical comments along the lines of (“Nobody noticed”) are an important element of Sy’s narrative. The early part of the book depicts the banyan growing along and beside and in a sense within the tong lau, while the human inhabitants go about their daily lives – including, for three specific humans named Nick, Leon and Kitty, “running and sliding on the rooftop,” where the building has a combination playground, clothes-drying area and place for potted plants. 

     The banyan goes about its ever-quiet growth in text charmingly laid out to reflect the action – for example, the phrase “Down, down, down crept a spindly root” moves down the page on which it appears. And speaking of charm, Ishita Jain’s illustrations practically ooze it: they are beautiful watercolors that manage to give the book a fairy-tale atmosphere while also doing a wonderful job of depicting, realistically, the birds and squirrels and other wildlife that interact with the banyan. Humans interact with it, too, but that relationship is a more troubled one – and provides what conflict there is in this essentially conflict-free celebration of the intersection of the natural world with that of human life. What happens is that the banyan tree grows to a huge size – a truly lovely Jain illustration, so large that readers must rotate the book 90° to see it, shows it even taller than the entire tong lau. However, what was formerly unobtrusive has now become intrusive for many of the adults in the building, blocking the sky and muffling residents’ songs and generally interfering with the small routines and pleasantries of daily life. The grown-ups – identified only as “the Grandpa,” “the Uncles” and so forth, thus having less individuation than the three children – decide that the tree must come down so everything can return to its prior placidity. The children, however, have become used to playing in and around the tree, and each time the grown-ups appear with implements to cut the banyan, the kids give them a reason not to do so. It provides shade on a hot day, the children point out, and the hot and uncomfortable adults see that that is true, so everyone sits under the tree and has a picnic. Again and again the kids point out the good things the banyan does, until one night the area is hit by a typhoon that “howled like a hungry ghost” and seemed bent on destroying the entire tong lau. But Sy writes that the banyan wrapped its branches around the building – Jain’s illustration makes it seem to do so almost intentionally – and “tamed the typhoon’s fury,” winning over the Aunties, Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncles and giving adults, kids and tree the recipe for continuing coexistence amid mutual admiration and appreciation. 

     Sy’s story is based on an actual banyan tree in the heart of Hong Kong, but nothing here is presented as fact or history lesson or even almost-reality, except for the underlying truth – never stated explicitly – that human coexistence with nature is better for humans and nature alike than any attempt by people to direct, control and take power from the natural world. Yes, the message is simplistic, but after all, this is a picture book for young children, and what Sy teaches so delicately and Jain illustrates so winningly is that a cooperative mindset, a willingness to see the good in natural processes and not just the occasional inconvenience, is a positive attitude throughout life – and very definitely something worth cultivating.