The absolute best movies are always full of symbolism, and I say the same goes for books. Basically, if it’s symbolic, that’s all you need. You can just say ‘it’s symbolic!’ and you can get away with anything, and that’s NOT a cop-out because it represents your soul. And if your soul says it, then it must be true. It’s where all the truly good art comes from, so obviously.
Well, people here sort of get that, but I don’t think they understand it fully. We started tonight with a fifteen minute rant/discussion about Sheila eating all of the fairy bread, and I kept trying to bring up that maybe we should be talking about commercial glass tinting. Melbourne is a city that is full or arty and creative people who understand the deeper meaning behind windows. The tinted glass could possibly be used to represent the uncertain and undulating nature of the human spirit, and…well, it didn’t get far. Sheila started crying and accusing everyone else of false accusations, and my pleas about the literary merits of tinted glass went unheard. For the official record, I didn’t mind. About the fairy bred thing, that is; I was livid about my literary metaphors going ignored. Fairy bread is honestly the simplest thing to create in all the culinary world, and it tastes terrible. But do you know what is the sweetest taste of all? Metaphors and symbolism that make you FEEL things. Picture what my main character is currently picturing in chapter sixteen, where he’s faced with row upon row of tinted glass that represents his past, present, future and all the spaces in between. He may, for a little while, admire the superficial work of glass tinting available in Melbourne…but soon he comes to realise that the layers of tint represent…something. His crumbling marriage, maybe. His obsessive craving for sugar. Tax forms that remain unfilled. I’ll think of something.