Tove Under the Tree

by Larissa Theule, Julie Benbassat (Illustrator)

Overview

A child’s courage and creativity save a fallen tree in this gentle young chapter book about empathy, resilience, community, and our indelible bond with nature.

There was a tickle at the top of her head. . . .
Tove’s brain vibrated like a phone. The little branch was asking for permission to grow.
Tove straightened. “Yes, please grow,” she said.
Just like that, her head accepted and welcomed the branch’s polite, exploring baby roots.

For as long as Tove can remember, the giant ficus tree has stood in front of her house, shading her bedroom during the day, holding up the stars at night. Now it lies on the ground, chopped down. “It was dead,” says the arborist. “Trees die. People think they live forever, but they don’t.” Or don’t they? Tove picks up a little branch that escaped the chipper, a branch still green and supple, still holding life. With that, she makes a bold and valiant resolution—and when the weight of her decision grows larger than a small child can handle by herself, the entire neighborhood comes together to support her and the tree they all love. With Larissa Theule’s graceful prose and Julie Benbassat’s inviting illustrations, a realistic familiarity merges with magical realism in an elegant, moving story with shades of a classic.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781536232813
Publisher:	Candlewick Press
Publication date:	10/14/2025
Pages:	80
Product dimensions:	6.30(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.60(d)
Age Range:	6 - 9 Years

About the Author

Larissa Theule is the author of several books for children, including Fat and Bones, a collection of linked short stories for middle-grade readers; Concrete: From the Ground Up, illustrated by Steve Light; Kafka and the Doll, illustrated by Rebecca Green; How Do You Do?, illustrated by Gianna Marino; Born to Ride: A Story About Bicycle Face, illustrated by Kelsey Garrity-Riley; and A Way with Wild Things, illustrated by Sara Palacios. The idea for Tove Under the Tree grew out of a painting titled Under the Tree by postmodern Superflat artist Yoshitomo Nara. Larissa Theule has lived in many different parts of the world and now lives in Southern California with her family and dog.

Julie Benbassat is a graduate of the Rhode Island School of Design and an award-winning illustrator and painter. Her work has been exhibited numerous times, and she has done design, illustration, and animation work for a wide range of clients, including NPR, McSweeney’s, the New York Times, the Cartoon Network, and boom! Comics. Her book credits include There's That Sun Again by Mk Smith Despres, The Book from Far Away by Bruce Handy, The Screaming Hairy Armadillo by Matthew and Steve Murrie, and You be You! by Jonathan Branfman. Julie Benbassat lives in Philadelphia.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1
One Friday afternoon, Tove came home from school to find the giant ficus tree in front of her house cut down and lying on the ground.
Tove stood still as stone and stared as the city arborists used chain saws to chop the tree into smaller bits. The arborists fed the smaller bits into a wood chipper that made a loud grinding noise.
That tree had shaded Tove’s bedroom during the day. At night, it had held up the stars.
The boss arborist came over to Tove. “It was dead,” she said. She unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into her mouth. “Trees die. People think they live forever, but they don’t. And the hotter temps are tough on old trees.”
Tove pointed to a little ficus branch that hadn’t been fed into the chipper. It had a single green leaf on it. “That little branch isn’t dead,” she said.
The arborist looked at the branch. “You’re right. That little twig still has some life in it.”
“So the tree wasn’t all the way dead.”
“Technically, the tree is dead.”
“But that little branch isn’t.”
The arborist shrugged. She said, “The city will plant a new tree in this same spot. Residents get a say in which trees get planted. Would you like one with flowers? A jacaranda tree, like they have on Del Mar Street?”
“Jacaranda flowers smell bad when they drop,” said Tove.
“They do,” agreed the arborist.
“I want the tree that was here,” said Tove.
“Sorry, kid. Nothing I can do.”
Tove walked over to the little ficus twig with the single green leaf and picked it up. “I’m keeping this.”
“A memento,” said the arborist, nodding. “If you do decide on a tree you want planted, give me a call.” She dug a business card out of a pocket in her overalls.
Tove watched the arborists pull away in their trucks, dragging the wood chipper behind them.
Thinking hard, Tove tucked the business card into her pocket and went into her house holding the twig.

Chapter 2
Tove hung up her backpack, then slipped out of her school shoes and lined them up next to her soccer cleats. She put on her slippers.
Grandma Harriet was in the living room, asleep in front of the TV. Grandma Harriet watched Tove after school on weekdays. On the table beside Tove’s grandmother stood a vase of freshly cut lavender and eucalyptus. Beside the vase was a pair of gardening gloves. Beside the gloves were some pruning shears.
Tove went into the kitchen. She cleared the table of magazines and books and set the little branch down. “Wait here,” she told it.
Tove washed and dried her lunch box. She put in a load of laundry. She made herself a banana and peanut butter sandwich and poured a glass of milk. Then she sat at the kitchen table and studied the little branch while she ate.
The little branch was brown on the outside, white on the inside. It was flexible, not brittle, and it smelled nice. Its one leaf didn’t have any caterpillar holes or dead spots, and it was soft.
However, the little branch didn’t have roots. That was the problem. How could it grow if it didn’t have roots?
Tove thought about the chain saws and the wood chipper. She thought about Grandma Harriet’s pruning shears.
Could Tove get the little branch to grow roots? Where could it do that without being disturbed? Where would it be safe from chain saws, wood chippers, and pruning shears?
Tove finished her banana and peanut butter sandwich. She drank the glass of milk down to the last drop and set it on the table with a light thunk.
She had an idea.

Chapter 3
Tove cleaned the kitchen sink and counters and laid out a fresh dish towel.
She washed her hands, counting to fifteen, twice.
After rinsing off the branch, she set it on the towel and let it air-dry.
She filled three glasses of water. She guessed she would need only one but wanted to be prepared in case she needed more.
She tightened her pigtails and put on swim goggles.
Leaning over the sink, she held the little branch to her head with one hand so that it was nice and straight. With her other hand, she poured one of the glasses of water over her head, where the branch met her scalp.
Nothing happened, but she was not discouraged.
She poured a second glass of water over her head.
Still nothing happened.
She considered being discouraged but instead asked herself questions.
Was she missing something?
Was she attempting science or magic?
If it was science, magic couldn’t hurt, could it?
Should she say something while she poured?
As Tove upended the third glass of water over her head and the branch, she murmured a string of the most powerful words she could think of. “Mama, Grandma Harriet, me, home, love, music, trees, the moon, stars, lavender, churros, sunshine, soccer, clouds, friends,
stories—”
There was a tickle at the top of her head.
Something was happening.
Another tickle.
Tove’s brain vibrated like a phone. The little branch was asking for permission to grow.
Tove straightened. “Yes, please grow,” she said.
Just like that, her head accepted and welcomed the branch’s polite, exploring baby roots.
More tickling.
While the branch settled in, Tove took another dish towel from the drawer next to the stove and cleaned up the water that had spilled on the counter. She hung the towel from the stove handle and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
The branch on her head looked small but healthy and strong, too. It already had a tiny new leaf! It wasn’t just a branch anymore. It had roots now. It was a proper, tiny tree.
Tove was pleased but knew her job wasn’t done.
The tree needed something like soil, which Tove’s head provided, and Tove would make sure it had enough water. Now it needed sun.
Tove glanced out the window. Some daylight remained.
She left a note for Grandma Harriet.
Dear Grandma Harriet,
I am taking a walk in the neighborhood in orer to absorb sunshine. I will be home soon.
Love,
Tove

Editorial Reviews

Employing quirky humor and an eclectic, accepting sense of both community and individuality, Theule (Mouseboat) blurs fantasy and reality to consider themes of ecological interdependence.
—Publishers Weekly

Theule’s simple prose is delightfully deliberate, making a rather surreal concept seem nearly normal. Benbassat’s accompanying illustrations are cozy in tone; scenes that might otherwise seem scary or strange. . . . A delightfully quirky tale about standing up for urban nature.
—Kirkus Reviews

An admirable message of embracing nature and one’s neighbors. . . . Recommended for patient, nature-loving readers.
—School Library Journal

From the Publisher

2025-07-19
A tree grows in an unlikely location.

Arborists come to Tove’s house to remove an ailing ficus, which is felled before the child returns from school. Seeing her disappointment, the head arborist encourages her to weigh in on what kind of tree the city will plant in its place. But Tove only wants this particular tree, and she removes a leafy branch as a memento. She places the twig atop her head and comically pours water over it, and the branch takes root in her hair. She nurtures the new tree by walking in the sun, bathing in moonglow, and letting her sapling commune with a robin singing on a wire. As the tree grows, neighbors notice, and community excitement builds for Tove’s curious quest. But logistical challenges creep in: It’s hard to lie down to sleep, and the tree’s massive presence makes scoring soccer goals tough (her understanding coach makes her goalie). Thankfully, with magical thinking and a lot of community support, a solution is reached that keeps both girl and ficus safe and thriving. Theule’s simple prose is delightfully deliberate, making a rather surreal concept seem nearly normal. Benbassat’s accompanying illustrations are cozy in tone; scenes that might otherwise seem scary or strange—Tove’s face being engulfed by roots, the tree dwarfing her as it increases in size—feel downright homey. Tove is light-skinned and dark-haired, while her neighbors are diverse.

A delightfully quirky tale about standing up for urban nature.(Light fantasy. 6-10)

Kirkus Reviews