We wanted it to live in the hands of its readers, not splashed across a million screens as some CGI fantasy behemoth, made by people far away from Portland’s spires of Doug firs and blankets of salal and sword fern. We wanted it to exist as a book, first and foremost. So when movie studios began expressing interest, we were very reluctant to take their calls. John’s neighborhood in North Portland and the 5,000 acre city park across the river from it, Forest Park.
The book felt very personal to both Carson and myself not only had it been stewing for such a long time, but we felt protective of the world we were recreating: a world that reimagined these beloved places that we knew, the St. I was immersed in the project, collecting ideas and inspiration from our regular walks in the woods. The book was the culmination of years and years of plan-hatching and head-scratching between Carson and I - the foundations of the project, in some ways, pre-dates the existence of The Decemberists. The story goes like this: about twelve years ago, I was maybe three quarters finished with Wildwood, my first novel and the first book in what would become a trilogy.
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