Rebuttal

Seeing as one of my very few commenting readers has asked a question, I will without hesitation write an entire blog post in response. (I daresay I am just as likely to write a book in response to a challenge as was Chesterton.)

I was speaking of a written work in poetic terms: a fruit, to be precise. Now when one holds an imperfect fruit in his hand—perhaps it has a worm hole or a great moldy gash in it—then he would feel no guilt if he were to throw it into the compost or merely toss it into the bushes and forget about it. However, if it were possible for him to bring the fruit to a state of perfection, he would of course prefer that option. One thing he must never do is pulverize the fruit, for that would be contradictory to the writing process; if, however, it is not a fruit at all, but only appeared so, then he ought by all means to pulverize it.

Now, leaving aside any rigid assertions about the physical possibilities of bringing the fruit to a state of perfection—as this part is not important—let us continue to where this analogy leads us...

Once the fruit is as perfect as it may be, then it goes forth into the world. That is its first true test.

It is upon these fruits that the world will be nourished and thus their quality is of incalculable importance. Those that mold ought to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. Those that yield only vinegar may have a part to play, but only a small one, and ought to be regarded with care. Those that yield only wine will cause many to become drunk and foolish upon them, though for those who take them only in moderation they may do no harm and even be of benefit. Yet it is those that yield wholesome flesh and juice that shall provide the nourishment necessary for all. Thus is the first part of the test.

And the second is like it: the fruit, in yielding this nourishment to the world, must not shrink and lose its shape or become blemished, but remain firm and whole and beautiful. For those that do will soon be discarded.

-----------------------------------

The above left aside of course the whole issue of what people do with the fruits' yield, for naturally not all are content merely to take sustenance from them in their natural form. These are the jellies and applesauces and whatnot about which I was questioned.

Some people cannot enjoy the fruit wholly without extracting the flesh and making something more of it than was originally there, though without changing any more than the appearance of it. I am not saying that this is without merit—for there is a time and a place for everything—yet these should be made with care, as often such processes involve bringing in additional ingredients (e.g. the salts and sugars and cinnamons and sundry others). Depending upon what is added, the result may be so different from the original fruit as to be unrecognizable. But there are also those that would be indigestible without said additions.

This is by no means an inexhaustible list. Many other means of sustenance exist which involve these fruits only in part or in an amalgamation of them, and I have not time—nor interest—in covering all of them.

-----------------------------------

There it is. I do not know of what benefit it was, as I ought really to be writing other things, but I did rather enjoy it. Although at this rate I suppose I might just as well write a book of analogies about writing.

The idea all came about because of one question, and I appreciate it. These days people do not ask enough questions and those they do ask are usually the wrong ones, for they are afraid to say too much, and so they say too little. If only people would ask more questions and would actively seek the truth, the world would be a better place.