Today, during my as-yet-noted lengthy commute, scanning but not reading the paper I started to wonder about metaphors. I'm not entirely sure why: newspaper editors try to avoid having their staff use metaphors if the intended audience regards the Sun as elitist, so I can't have got it from there. Possibly I was running over emails in my mind subconsciously, wondering what would be populating my inbox upon my return to a two metre-cubed area not populated by fourteen other human beings because it's those kind of thoughts that keep me distracted during the day. Personally I put it down to simply not having used one in a while, and my brain realising it had a quota to fill.
So. Metaphors. The dictionary defines them as when something is described as actively being something else - an ironic description given that if the words 'like' or 'as' are used it is no longer a metaphor but a simile, an poetic device seemingly invented so people who were no good at poetry could at least have a stab at it. Metaphors are a different beast, however: they're broader and therefore potentially a whole lot more obtuse. You can never really have an impenetrable simile; they can be confusing - such as if I were to describe my voice as being like a paperback book - but if a simile becomes too much to handle you just move on and ignore the rest. However, there is something ingrained into the human psyche about metaphors, in that it just won't let them lie. It can't bypass them. It will tie itself in knots trying to unfurl and unravel them, but it never admits defeat because that implies the prose has got the best of them. And no one likes being beaten by the words on the page. Metaphors are more fundamental then most other poetic devices - for example, you could link personification, similes and a whole host of others under the same umbrella, and it speaks volumes that something can be metaphorical but not, say, similical. However, for the purposes of this muse I'm distilling them apart.
I'll give an example of a personal favourite metaphor which I find works extremely well once the audience has re-read it a few times. When talking about sex, and my complete lack of practical experience but considerable theoretical knowledge, I refer to the entire subject as a mountain. Sex Mountain, naturally, because I'm not very good at naming things. Basically, every virgin is at base camp, and once their escapades begin they start climbing up the mountain: reaching first base, second base, third base, and the obligatory further. Where the metaphor differs from contemporary language, however, is that 'going all the way' does not equal reaching the summit. If sex was a concrete act - sex, or not sex - that might well be the case, but simply losing your virginity does not result in your knowing all possible ins-and-outs of the subject (kindly pardon the pun); rather, it just reinforces how far you need to go. Therefore, scaling the summit of Sex Mountain is entirely hypothetical and will never happen, because no matter what you've done there will always be other avenues likely (or should I say, hopefully) blocked off by simple common restraint.
So as you clamber all over your partner, you clamber all over Sex Mountain. What I like about the metaphor is the justice it does to the subject: imagine a mountain, a vast mountain, one covered with innumerable routes and challenges, most not seeking the summit but simply an opportunity to pit your body against nature (rock climbing has given me this mentality: if a cliff face is climbable, it's not the right one for you). Some challenge endurance, some power, some simply your mentality. Some routes are easy, some scenic, some tricky, some fairly simple but with a crux that can have you biting your own lip off in frustration. Sex is a similar neverending end of potential challenges: some challenging endurance, some power, some your mentality etc etc. Describe a particularly tricky sexual position as a standalone thing and chances are your audience will have no clue what you're talking about. Relate it to a climbing or hiking route, however, and something just clicks.
The other aspect of it is the scenery. When one scales a mountain, their reward is a spectacular view from the peak. However, almost-as-impressive views are capable from nearly everywhere high up on the mountain. Now, virgins and those who have not progressed very far cannot claim to have seen these views - they've not yet climbed to a point where they are visible. However, by communicating with those who have been there and taken it in fully, they will at least recognise the view when they see it. That's why I advocate studying the theory of sex before the practical: you'll know when you've gotten there.
Ooh, I quite enjoyed that. Metaphors have the power to breathe life into things; life which would otherwise remain very definitely elsewhere. You can mentally deconstruct an entire subject and rebuild it as one which suits you. They carry the shadow of the auteur, which is a constant worry, but it is not something to be shunned to the same extent in this situation as elsewhere; not if the metaphor is designed to be kept personal. They are personal by nature. However, if you are planning to write a metaphor so that others can understand it, either keep it simple and broad so that the audience can run with it, or for God's sake have the decency to explain it.
Driver, darling, drive her.
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