Truth in Fiction: Part Two

Well, I asked my husband about the first blog in this little "series." He compared me to PT Barnum, but I no longer remember the quote. It was more in the nature of a complaint, than a compliment, though.

I believe his general charge against me was I said that I wouldn't write about the Bible, because it wasn't fictional, and then I DID write a story from the Bible. I think the nature of his charge was that I was guilty of false advertising, or of saying one thing and then doing another. He said he was under the impression I was going to write about a book I was reading and then I did no such thing.

I tried to tell him about artistic license and how sometimes what you write takes on it's own life, how you can end up in a direction you hadn't really planned. I think he may have remained unconvinced, but he hastened to assure me that it was well written. Good save, Steve.


So I hope no one else felt I cheated them, or tricked them with sleight of hand, or was just plain old confusing. The Parable of the Lost Son just leaped out at me when I wrote my introduction as a beautiful example of how a story can add emotional weight to a truth. Make us understand it in a fresh and powerful way. I'm not saying the truth always needs to be "dressed up." I'm just saying there can be something very special about hearing it in "story form."


And I'm going to apologize ahead of time. Sorry to Steve and everyone else, because though I am going to write about some beautiful books mostly, I will quite likely find myself unable to entirely leave the Bible out of it, and certainly not God, because I believe that ALL truth is God's Truth.


And I'm going to add a further note about fiction, good vs bad. Something I MEANT to say in my first blog, but then I got carried away by a beautiful story. What I wanted to say is that while words feed our mind, books are often like a garden full of both beautiful and nourishing plants, and also weeds. Some books are full of so many weeds that it is hardly worth trying to root around them searching for that last withered potato. These are books I try not to waste too much time reading. And I certainly don't recommend them to others.

But in any book written by a human being, you are likely to find some weeds here and there. That is why you are a "gardener." It's your job to be discerning and decide what is edible and nourishing, or will beautify the living space of your mind, and what will be entertaining but worthless, or even noxious. And it is your job to decide if this book "garden" is worth the weeding, or if it is just not worth the effort.

This is my disclaimer. My favorite books are ones which I feel are so full of roses and lilies, of tomatoes and cucumbers, that if I see an occasionally "weedy" portion, it troubles me not the slightest. I merely toss the weeds away and continue. It is our job to learn how to garden our minds via the written word. Which means I'll be expecting this of you. I'm sharing the good stuff I have found. But if you read a book I mention, and you find the occasional weed, I'm totally leaving the responsibility with you. Books written by humans are imperfect, just like the human who wrote them. If you are reading this, then you obviously have a brain of your own, and I think you can figure this all out. Right?

So let me tell you about a book I love. It is a tricky little book, because it appears to be a children's book. But I have read it many times, and every time it amazes me. I feel sure that the main audience is meant to be adults. The Little Prince was written by Antoine de Saint Exupery in french originally and my copy is a translation. I have NO idea how you say de Saint Exupery, at all, which is why you will not see one of those (pronounced: ) notes that normally come in a book review. In fact, every time I try and tell someone about the book I get embarrassed because they invariably ask me who the author is. So if you have some idea how it is said, please, please leave me a comment.

And now that I have started off with the book, I find I hit another difficulty. The same one I had when I tried to tell Steve about the book I love. He asked me, quite reasonably, what the book was about. And I was stymied. As I am now. Because I could give you a description of the "plot" of the book. But I find in doing that I would be guilty of one of charges the book makes against us "grown-ups." It says:

When you tell them (grown-ups) that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?"
Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.

And I find that if I give you the plot of the book, I have not told you any of the "essential matters" about the book. But for the "grown-up" who reads this blog, I will take the advice of the book itself, and give you the plot out of forbearance. ;)

So the book is a first person account of a man who is stranded in the desert when his plane breaks down. And while he is there, he meets a little boy, a prince, who tells him the story of how he travelled from a distant star, and what he came across on his journey. In the end, the little prince returns to his star, for he has left behind a rose there, a rose he loves...

Yeah, it doesn't sound like much, does it? The back of the book does a better job, much better, but it is longer and also it would be pretty lame for me to fall into something I would call plagiarism in one of my students, even if I did name my source.

But I'd rather get more into the heart of the book. Into the some of the beautiful things found inside it.

For example, on the journey this little prince makes, he comes across a small planet with a businessman as the single occupant. This businessman tells him that he is very busy doing something of "consequence" as he is adding up all the stars he owns. He owns the stars, he explains, because no one else has thought of it, first dibs, so to speak. So he adds up all the stars, writes the number on a piece of paper, puts the paper in a drawer and locks it with a key.

To which the little prince replies:

"I myself own a flower," he continued his conversation with the businessman, "which I water every day. I own three volcanoes, which I clean out every week (for I also clean out the one that is extinct; one never knows). It is of some use to my volcanoes, and it is of some use to my flower, that I own them. But you are of no use to the stars...."

And so this book illuminates a truth: it is of no consequence to own something, if you are not of use. Houses were meant to be homes. Cars were meant to be transportation. Family and friends are there for us to love and assist. And every possession is useless unless used with hospitality and generosity. For owning something merely for status or greed is as silly as owning the stars, no?

There is so much in this book I love. But I can't reproduce the whole experience of reading it for you. I can just recommend you do that yourself. I will end with one of my favorite parts of the book. The little prince has finally arrived on earth and met a fox, who asks the prince to tame him.

"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me..."

The fox tells him:

"The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat..."

Later on, after the prince has tamed the fox, he must leave and continue on his journey. The fox says he will cry now. The little prince is dismayed. He didn't want to hurt the fox, and now he feels he has done him "no good at all!" But the fox assures him that being tamed has done him good, "because of the colour of the wheat fields." He then tells the little prince his secret:

It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye"

And so when I look at my son, in his frail and broken body, I say "what is essential is invisible to the eye. It is with my heart that I see you rightly." And when I think of how much I will cry when this little boy who has tamed me has left me, I remember that it has done me good. Because of the wheat fields. And so much more.