Read the following excerpt from the article "Vision, Voice and the Power of Creation: An Author Speaks Out," by T. A. Barron, an
d answer the question that follows: Another way to tap the power of imagination is through place. My own background as a writer is rooted in nature, having grown up reading Henry David Thoreau, Rachel Carson, and John Muir long before I ever dipped into Madeleine L'Engle, Lloyd Alexander, Ursula Le Guin, E. B. White, or J.R.R. Tolkien. My early writings were really nature journals; at nine, I wrote a complete biography—of a tree. (It was a once-majestic chestnut tree not far from my home.) So it should come as no surprise that I view place as much more than just a setting for a story. It is, in truth, another form of character, no less alive and complex, mysterious and contradictory, than the richest character in human form. The author writes that he "wrote a complete biography—of a tree." What message is implied about the tree with this statement? The author couldn't think of any other subject for a biography. The author didn't think a partial biography was enough. The author didn't want to speak for the tree. The author believed the tree had a life story, like a person.
D: <span>The author believed the tree had a life story, like a person.
The author spends the first bit of the paragraph discussing how important "place" or, setting, is to make a story enjoyable. Then he describes his biography of the tree. It is clear that he considers the tree to have a character and story of its own when he says "</span><span>It is, in truth, another form of character".</span>
