Elif Shafak is an author who has been publishing for years, who I was aware of, even went to an author event where she was speaking – but who I didn’t get around to reading until the end of 2020. I first read The Bastard of Istanbul which I was hugely impressed by and a few months later I read 10 Minutes 38 Seconds in this Strange World. That novel became one of my favourite reads of last year, the kind of book I still find myself thinking about and have recommended to people lots of times. So, of course I was looking forward to The Island of Missing Trees and delighted when my friend Meg passed her beautiful hardback copy on to me. It didn’t disappoint, I loved it – although it perhaps didn’t quite reach the dizzying heights of absolute perfection that 10 Minutes…. was for me, it didn’t fall far short.
The book is dedicated:
“To immigrants and exiles everywhere, the uprooted, the re-rooted, the rootless,
and to the trees we left behind, rooted in our memories.”
Divided into three time periods – the late 2010s the early 2000s and 1974 – The Island of Missing Trees tells a story of belonging and identity, a poignant story of love and trauma. It is beautifully written, compelling and thought provoking.
The novel opens with sixteen-year-old Ada, in her Year 11 history class at her secondary school in north London, shortly before the Christmas holidays begin. Her mother died about a year before and she is struggling – she finds herself standing up in class and screaming, just screaming while everyone around her looks on bemused and disturbed. The video of her screaming goes viral – well of course it does.
Ada’s father Kostas is a middle-aged botanist a Greek Cypriot who first left the island of his birth during the turmoil that divided it in two. On the day of Ada’s screaming, he is burying his beloved fig tree in the garden – to protect it from the English winter. The fig tree is important, in fact the fig tree narrates parts of the story, becoming a character in itself, and one the reader can’t help but love too. The fig tree that Kostas tends so faithfully is a cutting from a tree that grew in Cyprus, it had grown through the cavity in the roof of a tavern – witness to everything that occurred there.
In 1974 on the beautiful island of Cyprus two teenagers fell in love. They were from opposite sides of that divided island; Kostas a Christian is Greek, and Defne is Turkish and Muslim. None of that matters to them, they only want to be together but that isn’t very easy at all, there are eyes everywhere.
“Love is the bold affirmation of hope. You don’t embrace hope when death and destruction are in command. You don’t put on your best dress and tuck a flower in your hair when you are surrounded by ruins and shards. You don’t lose your heart at a time when hearts are supposed to remain sealed, especially for those who are not of your religion, not of your language, not of your blood. You don’t fall in love in Cyprus in the summer of 1974. Not here, not now. And yet there they were, the two of them.”
The two young lovers take to meeting at a tavern where the owners will help keep their secret, a place where they can be private and out of the sight of unwelcome eyes. The tavern is run by Yusuf and Yiorgos, two men living outside the conventions of the times too. The tavern is known for the fig tree growing through the centre of it. The story of Kostas, Defne and all of Cyprus is rooted in that place and the people who met there.
“Because in real life, unlike in history books, stories come to us not in their entirety but in bits and pieces, broken segments and partial echoes, a full sentence here, a fragment there, a clue hidden in between. in life, unlike in books, we have to weave our stories out of threads as fine as the gossamer veins that run through a butterfly’s wings.”
When violence and unrest erupt on the island between Greeks and Turks Kostas is forced by his family to go to England where he has an uncle who can give him a start there. He has to leave Defne behind, not knowing when or if he will see her again. She is devastated by his desertion and refuses to write back to him. It is a silence that will last decades. Many years later, Kostas returns to Cyprus for the first time since he left in 1974 – he knows that Defne never married, neither did he. So, although officially he is there to seek out certain plant species, he is really looking for much more than that. Ada is the result of their reconciliation and late marriage. However, the years have taken their toll. The years of trauma, the realities for those who stayed in Cyprus are ever present, the losses that were suffered, the people who went missing and have never been found. Defne is one of those who still searches. Her work has been to reunite people with the bodies of their dead – she carries all of this with her to her new life in England. It is something she will never rid herself of.
In the late 2010s Ada only knows the outline of her parents’ story. When her father tells her that her mother’s sister Meryem is coming to visit she is unimpressed. She can’t forgive Meryem for never having visited before – not even for her mother’s funeral. Meryem arrives with a bagful of colourful clothes she hasn’t yet found the confidence to wear, and bit by bit she gains her niece’s trust while cooking up a storm of Turkish dishes in the kitchen.
I really must read more by Elif Shafak – this was another beautiful read.
i have not fancied those other two novels but this does look like just my sort of thing. i remember learning about the division of Cyprus through other novels over the years. How lovely to have the fig tree one of the characters!
You are very welcome to have this copy, I won’t keep it anyway, and it’s one Meg passed on to me. I absolutely loved the tree.
Ooh yes please, if you think I’d like it?
I will save it for you.
Lovely review, Ali. I’ve had mixed experience with Shafak’s novels in the past, so this probably isn’t for me, but it does sound very well done – moving, evocative and beautifully expressed. I’ve allocated it to some of my subscriptions readers, especially those interested in fiction from different cultures, so I’m really pleased to see that you’ve given it your seal of approval. That’s very reassuring indeed!
It’s a shame you haven’t got on with Shafak, we may have read different books. We can’t all like the same things. I am sure lots of those subscription readers will appreciate it.
We have indeed read different books by her. The two I read were Hounour, which I liked quite a bit until the melodramatic denouement (an event that undermined the rest of the book for me), and Three Daughters of Eve, which again started very promisingly but in this instance the ending was oddly flat and anticlimactic. A friend had chosen Eve for our book group, and in the discussion afterwards we all felt let down by the closing chapter. (PS I may well be a bit of an outlier on Honour as other readers have loved it, so you might want to take a look at that one?)
Ah, OK, that’s interesting I don’t remember hearing anything about either of those. I will bear in mind your experiences.
Beautiful review, and this does sound like a lovely read! I will add this and 10 minutes and 38 seconds to my tbr pile!
Thank you 😊. So glad you want to read this and 10 minutes 38 seconds, hope you enjoy them.
Great review Ali and this does sound like a lovely book – particularly like the idea of the fig tree as a character on its own!
The fig tree was a brilliant element I thought, becoming more than just a narrator and very important in the whole story. I think tge tree narrating sections of the book has divided some readers though.
I was a bit unsure about the tree as narrator but it worked well when rading it.
Yes I probably felt the same initially, but quickly the tree narration made sense and helped pull everything together.
Your enthusiasm for this writer has put her firmly on my radar! I find the idea of a tree narrator a bit off-putting but it sounds like it works well.
I wasn’t sure about the tree when I started, but it quickly drew me in. I think it works, and by the end there’s a real poignancy to that narrative.