THE SYMBOLISM in SCIM . . .

As you read Shebaad's STAR COCOONED IN MEDIOCRITY, be mindful of the fact that this is an extremely religious text.  The author anticipates SCIM being lauded as a novel rife with religious symbolism and skillfully-crafted imagery connecting the earthly and heavenly realms. 

Therefore, those of you who are quite knowledgeable of Scripture will likely tie recurrent images to their true references in the Bible.  The rudiments are there so that the more astute should easily be able to link even certain characters from Shebaad's text to their biblical counterparts.   

In addition, the author asks that you be wary of certain colors that are often mentioned throughout the text.  Shebaad refers to her use of three hues in particular as her "trinity" -- as these often appear in tandem; but chaos ensues when they are broken from their true source.  Little is accidental or haphazard.  There is meaning in some of the most trite details.

The reader should also keep an eye out for the menagerie of animals dotting the way.  These creatures are not coincidental but are representative of humanistic personalities.

"Had Mama not been so determined to argue, she would have realized that Daddy merely wanted to be heard, as a lion often roars in the wilderness just to remind himself of his God-given right to do so – absolving himself of some degree of pain with each venting."
"Mister Joe chuckled and issued the ultimate challenge, settling the matter once and for all. "I tell you what, you walk ya' ass out there in the high grass at night. When something that's quite a bit more noble than a dog circles around you, howls a few times, and then takes a chomp out of your ass – that's a wolf."
"Lastly, each of the four children processed our parents' squabbling differently. Baron was not merely the oldest of the living Prudhommes but was also the most noble. He would physically step in front of my father to prevent him from hitting our mother, even grabbing Daddy in a bear hug – never actually striking him. "I'm not going to just let
you hit my mother," Baron said respectfully to Daddy."
"But my Daddy’s parents, Grammah and Grampah, lived on Tenth Street and Vicksburg, four blocks east of Stillwell. Their pale yellow, single story brick house was more animated than any Disney movie I had ever seen. Blue butterflies danced as they lighted from the fragrant clusters of violets near the covered front porch to the velvety blanket of American Beauties winding their way up the trellis in the garden adjacent to the garage."
"Inept, though well-intentioned clumsy souls, mistakenly believed they were providing you a mitzvah, by keeping you sheltered from what they deemed the world’s sinful guile, preserving you in a glass mason jar that, at the most, gave its delicate creature a slivered visage of the life passing it by. While “safely” protecting the captive behind unseen ramparts, the pathetic being was never able to develop fully – stymied in a state of arrested development: not permitted enough room to test its fragile but equally splendid wings; nor given the latitude to realize the power behind its own God-given defenses; and
definitely not granted sufficient time to reflect and surmise that the natural beauty . . . should not have been muted . . . but should have been given license to shout!"