It is a novel book. The Man Whom The Trees Loved is a fantasy novella and this reviewer is hard pressed to call it a horror story. At the most it is more akin to dark fantasy, yet still an interesting read about a woman trying to save her husband’s soul from his enchantment with the forest that borders their home. He painted trees as by some special divining instinct of their essential qualities. He understood them. He knew why in an oak forest, for instance, each individual was utterly distinct from its fellows, and why no two beeches in the whole world were alike. People asked him down to paint a favorite lime or silver birch, for he caught the individuality of a tree as some catch the individuality of a horse. How he managed it was something of a puzzle, for he never had painting lessons, his drawing was often wildly inaccurate, and, while his perception of a Tree Personality was true and vivid, his rendering of it might almost approach the ludicrous.