Mr. Lewis, I'm sure you had NO idea how popular your books would be, which is why you probably didn't give much thought to writing a scene where the White Queen offers Edmund Turkish Delight and the kid goes nuts over how delicious it is. Seriously? What kid gets ecstatic over a combination of nuts, gelatin and rosewater? No kid that I've ever met.
But you wrote the Chronicles of Narnia and children everywhere are enthralled. In particular, Mr. B adores the series--it's one of very few fiction books he has devoured, so thanks for that.
Here's the thing, C.S. (May I call you C.S? No? Well, then, Mr. Lewis.) Mr. Lewis, my son's birthday is this week and he really really really wants to bring a treat. His school is on full-nut lockdown, so the teachers have offered an extra recess on a kid's birthday for the class in lieu of life-threatening snacks. But, Mr. B convinced his teacher that Turkish Delight would be educational since it's in the book their class read and he really really really wants to taste it.
Mr. Lewis, I looked up recipes for Turkish Delight. This recipe has almost no food in it that my kid or any other kid his age will enjoy. Gelatin. Nuts. Rosewater. Lemon or orange zest. Please. And it takes about an hour and a half of putzing around the kitchen with a candy thermometer and whatnot.
This isn't going to happen. Between the sheer effort involved (including a long trip across town to the one little Indian grocery store that sells rosewater) and the nut allergies and the fact that my efforts will certainly end up in Miss V's classroom trash can--well, I'm about to do something terrible.
I'm going to fudge. I'm going to stir together a dessert made with pudding and raspberries and whipped cream and create a trifle that sounds just like the amazing concoction Edmund ate in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe and I'm going to sell it as Turkish Delite. Do you see what I did there, Mr. Lewis? By mentally switching the spelling of Turkish Delight, I'm giving myself license to make a dessert where nobody gets killed or suffers.
Seriously, Mr. Lewis. The White Queen couldn't have offered Edmund fudge or toffee or chocolate cake?