Who Dies First In 'The Overstory'?

Ray Brinkman and Dorothy Cazaly's deaths hit me hardest in 'The Overstory', though technically Ray goes first after his stroke. Their story arc—married lawyers growing old together, then Ray becoming paralyzed while Dorothy cares for him—shows human fragility better than any battlefield scene. When Ray finally dies, Dorothy plants a maple in his memory, creating this beautiful circle where death feeds new life. Their sections made me cry because it's not some grand tragedy, just the quiet way love persists even when bodies fail.

Powers structures the novel so deaths accumulate like falling leaves. After Ray comes Adam's suicide, then Olivia's probable death during the tree-sit protest—each loss making the surviving characters more determined to protect forests. The sequencing matters: human deaths first, then later the shocking descriptions of clear-cut forests, making you see logging as mass murder. For similar emotional gut-punches about mortality and legacy, 'Bewilderment' by Richard Powers (his brother) explores how parents cope with losing children.

In 'The Overstory', the first major death is Nick Hoel's great-great-grandfather, who dies in the opening section titled 'Roots'. He's an immigrant farmer in Iowa who plants a chestnut tree that becomes central to the Hoel family saga. His death isn't dramatic—just a quiet passing after years of working the land—but it sets the tone for how the book treats human lives as brief flickers compared to trees. The chestnut outlives him by generations, becoming this silent witness to his descendants' lives. It's classic Powers—using one man's ordinary death to show how humans are just temporary guests in nature's grand timeline.

The first death that really sticks with me from 'The Overstory' is Douglas Pavlicek's Vietnam War buddy, which happens before the main timeline but gets revealed through flashbacks. Pavlicek survives a helicopter crash only because his friend takes the impact first, and that trauma shapes his entire post-war life. The way Powers writes it isn't about battlefield heroics—it's about how random survival can be, like how some trees withstand storms while others snap. This death hits different because it's not peaceful like the Hoel ancestor's; it's violent and senseless, making Pavlicek's later tree-planting obsession feel like atonement.

What's brilliant is how Powers connects these early deaths to the novel's themes. The chestnut tree's survival versus the human deaths shows nature's indifference. Even Mimi's eventual suicide attempt later (which she survives) echoes this—humans keep falling while trees endure. The book makes you feel how brief our lives are compared to a redwood's millennia. If you want more ecological fiction that plays with time like this, try 'Greenwood' by Michael Christie—it's got that same intergenerational sweep.