Critique #115 — Abra Patrick #2
Kevin Andrew Murphy February 8th, 2007
Here are the things he loves about this world: The slow disappearance of his brush strokes into paint smoothing and rearranging itself as though it has always been here, on this wall, on this house. The way he feels the rumble of thunder down to his soles, so much that sometimes he thinks it could be his doing. The sudden moment of silence that captures the teeming steam-liners when the vastness of the water gives way to the exquisite beauty and filth of New York. The bitter shreds of tea leaves that stick to his tongue when he swallows the last of the cup.Â
Â
Finding just the right word in English to describe a color or a smell or a song.
Â
The swell of the tulips that grow in the village garden. The Brooklyn Ferry.
Â
Robert wonders whether he will miss these things, after Jesus comes to take him to Heaven.
Heaven will be eternal, more certain and saturated than anything he has seen on this earth. His wife will take his hand when they arrive, and his children will be enchanted by the beauty and blessing that encircle them. This he knows is true.
But the delicate curve of the tulip petals, the perfect ridge of green that marks the base of the stem—he suspects he may miss that.
I’m afraid my first thought was a rather unhelpful, “What? He doesn’t think that there are tulips in Heaven? Or language?”
Trying to be more helpful: The tone changes a bit from the first three paragraphs and the rest of it. You start:
This sounds like someone else listing the things that Robert loves about this world. At “Robert wonders whether…”, we’ve now shifted into Robert thinking about these things. Re-writing the first sentence would help make it clear that all these musings are Robert’s.
This is just a personal preference: I don’t mind reading religious-related stories, but I can’t relate to any of the things that Robert thinks he will miss. Some just seem odd as something one would miss. With the others, it just seems odd that he thinks that they won’t also be in heaven. Since I also have no idea why he thinks Jesus will come and get him soon, all I’m left with is a rather dreamy set-up that fails to catch my interest or engage me. Others may very well like this, though.
I’ve read this sentence a couple of times and I’m still not sure what it means:
Since it’s part of your first sentence I think it has to be very clear.
I was started to get bogged down in all the imagery without many clues as to what is actually happening now and waiting for the kicker. Is he planning on going to heaven very soon? Is he dying? Is he being abducted by aliens? Is he in a cult? Is he actually painting the house?
is beautiful, but I was jarred by the Brooklyn Ferry. I live in Brooklyn, so I was thinking, what ferry does he mean? Does the ferry still run from Sunset Park? Are we really talking about the Staten Island Ferry? What does this have to do with Walt Whitman? But that could just be me.
I’d turn the page, but I wouldn’t go much further without something that located me more firmly in the story.
I agree with both of the above comments. The first sentence jarred me out of the story before the rest of them got me back in. But I’m not too deep, yet. I’d probably keep reading to see why he thinks he’s going to Heaven soon, though.
Also, you’re listing all the things in one paragraph, and then all of a sudden the list bleeds into different paragraphs. I didn’t see any rhyme or reason behind this switch, and was therefore a bit surprised that the list was continuing, as I thought I was moving on to another topic after the first paragraph.
Intriuging. I would turn the page. But I would need answers soon!