Life Means What You Want it to
A Reflection of The Little Prince
The Little Prince is a short children’s book written by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry; however, I would argue that the book is more useful in the hands of an adult. Throughout the book I felt myself imagining that the insightful, existential message of the book would be lost on a child, who would become absorbed in the story, but ironically lack the life experience to understand the bittersweet meaning. Absurdly, the book is the most valuable in the hands of those who will get the least out of interpreting its message. Thus the book echoes a number of trite clichés: youth is wasted on the young, life is too short for [insert shallow action here], etc. For me, the book really centers around this quote, which is repeated several times throughout the story:
But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart…
It is in this quote that the reader can begin to understand the absurdity of the actions pursued by the men residing on each planet visited by The Little Prince. The businessman spends all his days counting the stars, if only to prove to nobody that he owns them. The king likewise augments his commands to align with naturally occurring events, only to prove to himself that he is powerful. The lamplighter ignites and extinguishes his planet’s sole lamp every minute, for no reason other than to follow vague orders to do so. These examples seem absurd at first, until the prince arrives on earth and describes that the mere existence of more people on a larger planet does not make these tasks any grander. The point is driven home in the prince’s description of how empty the earth really is, how little space one human (or even humans as a whole) really occupy. The importance of human actions comes from the fact that humans ascribe importance to them, thus justifying pouring hours into their completion. The message is emphasized by the concept of “taming,” how the flower on the planet of The Little Prince only holds importance to him because he has tamed it, regardless of the fact that numerous, identical flowers exist.
As the book concludes, the reader (or at least this reader) feels a bit conflicted. Should I feel beauty in that one can derive meaning from any life? Or should I feel depressed that in the end, there is no true meaning beyond that which I inject into otherwise meaningless tasks? I suppose that falls on the reader to decide.
