Poison Apples and writing Myths

Mutable air: circulation of ideas, intrusive thoughts, risk-taking

Why do poison apples seem so appealing?

Apples have a long folkloric history, from the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, to the golden apples of Greek and Gaelic mythology. There has been debate as to whether the apples portrayed in these stories might actually be quinces, pears, or pomegranates. But the mythic apple remains a powerful image.

One day, I will share more of my thoughts on the complex cultural history of apples, but for now, I want to meditate on the poisonous variety from fairy tales.

There is something so compelling abut the poison apple; it is sweeter, juicier, shinier, and a deeper colour than any other fruit. But its seductive appeal means that it is easy to ignore the fatal aspects. It is human nature to want the apple, and to think that we are smart enough to eat around the poison, to take only the delicious parts.

I think of dangerous writing myths in this way. Myths about productivity, competition, and scarcity. It might feel hard to sense these myths acting on us directly when we sit down at our desks, or under a blanket on the sofa, to write but it is likely that we have internalised them to the point they become almost invisible.

Myths can feel comforting and kind. They aren’t all bad, of course. Like gossip, soap operas, and fairy tales, they can get to the heart of cultural conditions and convey information quickly through the language of symbol and archetype.

Where it can be difficult is when those myths are no longer visible, and we are less able to identify and critique them.

Is there anywhere in your writing that you come up against a poison apple? Do you try to eat around it? Do you bite it and see what happens? Do you bake it into a pie?