Why Are the Curtains Blue?

From common sense to deep analysis: two perspectives on a literary question.

‘Why are the curtains blue?’ is a question many of us have likely encountered. Over time, it has gained traction online, and while it may at first seem a bon mot aimed at satirising literary analysis, for some, it prompts genuine reflection regarding our interpretation of meaning within texts.

This divergence in response depicts the varied ways people engage with literature, and broadly speaking, such reactions can be divided into two categories: the apathetic and the academic.

The Apathetic: ‘The curtains are just blue.’

For some, the answer is simple: the curtains are blue because the author wanted to present them in that manner, case closed.

This perspective often arises from quotidian pragmatism. In real life, the majority of objects lack symbolic significance: curtains are chosen for price, practicality or personal preference. Viewed in this light, there is no justification to assume the author had any deeper intentions.

A prevalent scepticism towards overinterpretation often underpins the apathetic response. Many recall classroom experiences where English teachers insisted that every word held hidden meaning, a practice that typically provoked exasperation and the sense of being urged to ‘make things up.’

Such irritation may account for the dismissive tones these people adopt when addressing this query, especially when analysis comes across as haughty or pretentious. Within certain circles, profound inference is associated with intellectual posturing, therefore outright rejection functions as a means to resist that hierarchy: ‘you’re not smarter than me, they’re just blue.’

Furthermore, this viewpoint reflects wider societal attitudes. In education, students may rebel against the notion of a singular ‘correct’ answer, similar to how many in politics oppose experts who tend to overcomplicate straightforward issues. This behaviour mirrors a populist tendency and even aligns with capitalist principles that prioritise efficiency and measurable outcomes. In contrast, fervent study, which requires time and contemplation, may appear as ‘wasted labour’ since it does not produce anything immediately practical.

Thus, from this stance, the phrase ‘the curtains are just blue,’ becomes a microcosm of anti-elite, anti-expert sentiment, echoing the belief that only the tangible warrants attention.

The Academic: ‘The curtains are blue to represent his depression.’

On the other side are those who habitually see nuance in even the smallest details, interpreting each choice as a window into the author’s intent.

Curtains, as liminal objects, are thought to demarcate interior and exterior spaces; private and public spheres. In literary contexts, their very inclusion in descriptions may be read as signalling themes thereof, encompassing boundaries and exposure.

Moreover, the colour blue itself is seldom neutral. It may be imbued with connotations that can influence the perception of a scene. In the modern idiom, it might signify melancholy in the phrase ‘feeling blue’; in medieval Marian imagery, it could illustrate purity; and in Romanticism, it may epitomise longing, as in Novalis’ celebrated ‘blue flower.’

Beyond symbolism, blue textiles carry with them the imprint of global commerce, colonialism and industrialisation, whether through the extraction of indigo or the manufacture of synthetic pigments like Prussian blue.

Even functionally, a blue curtain can modulate light, flattening warmth while enhancing coolness, thereby shaping the ambience of a room. This subtle alteration may mirror a character’s psychological state without recourse to blunt or whimsical exposition. It is, in effect, show, not tell via wavelength.

By attending to such details, the academic contends that they can attain a fuller understanding of character, setting, and the socio-political strata embedded within a text. The blue curtains, for instance, may be read as mimicking a character’s woe, suggesting the divinity of a space, or hinting at social structures (considerations such as who produced the fabric, under what conditions, and the wider economic context).

Consequently, for these individuals, colour is never merely colour; it’s inextricably entwined with associations, history, culture and ambience. The simple six-word clause, ‘the curtains are blue,’ operates simultaneously as both dècor and discourse.

So, Why Are the Curtains Blue?

Indeed, the true intrigue lies not in the curtains themselves, but in the debate they incite. One side values simplicity and common sense, while the other embraces depth and symbolism.

Whether the curtains are just blue or deeply significant, this question reveals much about our approach to literature: do we treat language as a surface description, or as a domain rich in meaning?

In the end, ‘why are the curtains blue?’ is less a question about fabric and more a reflection of how we choose to see the world.