“Prose is architecture, not interior decoration…”- Ernest Hemingway
An author of great sanatic deception, Ernest Hemingway measured the value of books equal to the value of art when he paired prose and architecture simultaneously. His aim, perhaps, was to combine the holistic virtue of fine writing to the artistic wonderment of pure art. And because they require appreciation, value, and life, both enter homes not to be completely compromised by decoration or illustration. But instead, to reside in foreign harmony and be at times responsible for discussions, and, regretfully, for missed opportunities at personal growth …as well.
The great substance found in reading Wilkie Colins, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louise May-Alcott, or Franz Kafka cannot be wagered to a pot of artificial flowers polluting its cover with dust on the side of a table for two, as they often are. The immense value in the penned thoughts of these extraordinary literary minds is, to my mind, equal in value to finding rare jewels. Seldom does one decorate a rare jewel by piecing it with plastic beads, correct? Rather, in this society as in all past, jewels are esteemed, cherished, and treasured. And many a time, concelead and protected.
Let us leave prose and art to define their own territory, for disguising them in a space where they ought to be free…
is imprisonment for life..
…and what a gap in our virtuous knowledge will that be.