“Damned forest,” said an olive-skinned soldier in their circle. A soldier beside him chuckled. “The sooner it’s burned, the better, I say.” The other soldiers nodded, and Celaena stiffened. “It’s full of hate,” said another.
— Celaena Sardothien, Throne of Glass, Sarah J. Maas

For those of you who haven’t read Throne of Glass, let me set the scene.

Brannon’s forest was once full of magical inhabitants: namely, faeries, gnomes, sprites, nymphs, and many more, which were all ruled by the Fae. The human king of Adarlan, one of the territories in Throne of Glass, banned magic and resorted to vicious (as in horrifice, continent-wide massacre) tactics to get rid of it.

Fear, jealousy, and pride are all emotional states humans often find themselves stuck in. If luck were to have it, humans can get themselves out of these states. But what of those who find themselves sinking slowly down the miserable path led by these emotions? They become traits, qualities, and characters of fear, jealousy, and pride. No longer are they in control of their own human; they succumb to these states of mind. No longer are they in the ‘now’; they get stuck in their own heads. No longer are these responses to certain situations; they become dispositions—a stable behavioural pattern that requires little to no thinking.

It is human fear, jealousy, and pride that led the king to such barbaric ways of getting rid of something so ethereal. This hate towards the powerful Fae led him to erase all traces of beauty in those lands—all books, all knowledge, all things above his position as king. And that damned forest that was so full of hate… is it really? Is it full of hate? Or are you? Does the forest hate you? Or does the forest hate what’s been done to it by you? Had you shown kindness and remorse for the actions of your king, would the forest not be forgiving towards you? Or at least less hateful?

A mirror, that’s what it is. Brannon’s forest—the world—is just one big mirror. The best thing about it, though, is that we’re in control of where we point the mirror; what images to reflect; what scenes we want to replicate; what paragons we’d like to follow.

I learned that if I were to react based on how people made me feel, shouldn’t that be on me? If I were to cry in response to a bully’s sneer, shouldn’t I smack my head with a pillow for being so silly? So silly to even recognise that it wasn’t even about me? That if I were to get myself out of my head for just a moment, I would see that a sneer was all they had ever received their whole life. A sneer that they were so accustomed to seeing that it was all they could even morph their faces into. And the next time I were to face that expression again, I would return it with a smile. So that maybe, they would see something kinder than what they have had to endure.

As childish as this story may seem to non-fiction readers, such tales reveal profound truths through intricately woven fabrications. The thing about humans is that we often welcome lies more than we do truths. Sprinkle a bit of romanticism and dazzle with sweet nothings, you’re bound to grab attention. The problem nowadays is that people are easily swayed by the mob (masses, if you prefer the softer, neutral, less factual version of the word). They follow trends, click on catchy thumbnails, and criticise with someone else’s words on their tongue. If people were to use these fabrications in such a way that benefits humanity… who knows, maybe we’d all come to a better understanding of ourselves and ultimately a better understanding of each other.

I personally think fictional authors do a great job at this. Take C.S. Lewis, for example—it took me a few years to realise that it was literally based on the Bible (granted, I was 12 when I first read it, and just loved the movie so much, all common sense flew over my head). He did a beautiful job painting a whole new world to reveal the terrible and great tendencies of human nature.

To conclude this, annote-tation: read (or if you’re like me, re-read) Throne of Glass. Fair warning though, the middle to last books are more addictive than the first few ones. Mind you, there’s eight books in total, and that’s roughly 4,900 pages all in all.

Love,
g.