Life & Wisdom Quote by Florence King

King’s jab lands because it turns “metaphor” from a noble literary tool into a desperation move: not illumination, but insulation. The line is built like a trap. You expect a defense of plain style, maybe even a plea for clarity; instead she indicts a certain kind of writerly vanity, the one that treats language as costume jewelry meant to distract from an empty box. “Strain” is doing a lot of work here: it conjures effort without purpose, the visible grimace of someone pushing imagery past its natural limits to manufacture significance.

The intent is less anti-metaphor than anti-evasion. King isn’t arguing that figurative language is bad; she’s arguing that metaphor becomes suspicious when it’s compensatory, when it’s there to create the sensation of depth rather than the reality of it. The subtext is a cultural critique of institutions that reward style over substance: workshops, criticism, publishing ecosystems where ornate prose can pass as insight, where abstraction can masquerade as originality. In that world, metaphor becomes a status signal, proof you “write,” regardless of whether you think.

Contextually, King’s persona as a sharp-tongued American essayist matters. She wrote against cant and fashion, especially in literati circles that confuse self-expression with communication. Her line needles the sanctimony around “beautiful writing” and reminds you that clarity is not the enemy of art; emptiness is. The best metaphors don’t strain. They click.