One Publisher’s Pick: “The People in the Trees” by Hanya Yanagihara
Well, hello readers!
It’s been a long while since I last shared a Publisher’s Picks or Living Unencumbered post. I have some in my drafts folder, but longtime readers know, I struggle to be vulnerable with any regularity, so they sit in the drafts until it feels like the perfect moment.
I’m also finding it hard to produce content while the world seems to be burning. I keep reminding myself that America—and empire more broadly, across borders and regimes—has been built on separating families, criminalizing entire communities, and justifying violence as policy. Those who hold power have long abused women, children, and people of color with impunity. It’s tempting to believe the shit we’re witnessing is unprecedented, but that’s just not the case.
I intend to offer you all updates on our projects and the state of the press soon, but for now, I’m just here with one Publisher’s Pick.
This one is not for everyone, but I can’t get it off my mind.
I recently finished reading the literary fiction novel The People in the Trees by Hanya Yanagihara. And I think I might need a hug. It is an intense, deeply fucked up, brilliantly presented work that manages to echo the very real, horrific stories coming out of the Epstein Files.
It’s told like nonfiction and starts with a short Associated Press article from 1995 explaining that Nobel Prize winner Dr. Perina is facing serious sexual violence charges. Then we meet one of two unreliable narrators (the other is Perina himself). This guy is clearly infatuated with Perina and is basically asking readers to bear with him through the story, because he’s innocent. Perina has written memoirs accounting for his life, and this guy presents them to us, so we can see that Perina is really just a misunderstood, wonderful man. The bulk of the book is those memoirs. The other guy shows up in footnotes throughout.
We learn about Perina’s life, including a trip in the 1950s to an island that has not yet been colonized, where he “discovers” a turtle that, when eaten, prolongs life but not necessarily the mind. The entire story is told through Perina’s voice and memory, which makes him an unreliable narrator: he is misogynistic and racist, and entirely convinced of his own righteousness.
It’s pretty slow-paced until the last quarter or so, but I found it worth pushing through. I mean, I couldn’t stop. The book came out in 2014, so most of the online conversations and commentary are largely years old—I went straight to Reddit looking for some camaraderie as soon as I finished, but I didn’t find any current conversations. Have you read it? If so, please comment! There is so much to unpack.
This is not a book I would call enjoyable. But it is precise and unflinching, showing that exploitation often survives not through secrecy or ignorance, but through reverence for authority and power. I’ll never forget it and if you’re interested in provocative stories, controversial books, and impeccable craft, you should probably read it.
