Critique #169 — David De Beer
Kevin Andrew Murphy September 2nd, 2007
Within the silences of the past lie the tales of my people.
I stroke the ground, fingers sliding through the weeds, and wonder if the bones will still speak to me. The wind tugs my jacket as if he wants me gone. The little angel sits, with folded hands, skew on her stone and smiles.
A thorn slips through the skin of my thumb and, swearing, I stand and suck it while glaring at the smiling angel.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say. ‘It’s not that funny.’
For the first time I notice that her one hand is broken, just below the wrist.
Karen’s voice comes drifting down on the wind. ‘Are you going to be long?’
I don’t answer; she appointed herself to come along, not me.
Well, you’ve definitely got me curious. The opening line is a stumbler. I’m not sure you can pluralize silence without pluralizing past, which makes no sense, unless this particular tale offers multiple pasts.
Skew, should be “askew”, and I don’t think I’d give wind a gender. Seems to weaken the sentence.
Still, the idea is interesting. I’d read on a few more lines at least.
I am very curious! I like the mood at the beginning, and how it changes in tone when the narrator speaks.
’skew’ ought to be ‘askew’ (skew is a verb) and at the end there I think you need to reword it because ‘not me’ makes him the object of the verb ‘appoint’ so your meaning is obscured. (She appointed herself to come along, she didn’t appoint him. Did you mean to say that she appointed herself, he didn’t invite her?)
Anyway, tiny dinks like that aside, I’m intrigued and want to read more!
I loved the first line and immediately understood what you meant with it. I liked the whole thing and would read on. I did have one problem, though.
I wasn’t sure at first if this was a real angel or a stone angel. Also, the grammar is a bit off in this. Perhaps something like this instead? “The little stone angel smiles from where she sits with folded hands, askew on the headstone.” Grr. That’s still not quite right, but I think you get the idea.
I too wasn’t sure about ‘the angel sits…’ - ditto everyone else about ‘askew’. My suggestion is ‘The little angel sits, with folded hands, askew on her stone and smiling’.
Re. your first line, I like the concept, but I stumbled over it as well. I think JB’s right about pluralisation, and I wasn’t entirely happy with ‘Within’, for some reason. The only thing I can think of that you ‘lie within’ is perhaps a coffin or a tomb. Arguably that lends itself rather well to your image, but still, it read oddly to me.
Anyway, other than that, I’m certainly intrigued. One last thing I’ll say is that there’s something vague about this opening. Maybe it’s just because it’s a bit on the short side, I really can’t put my finger on it I’m afraid.
Hope this helped.
Within the silences of the past lie the tales of my people.
That’s a really strong sentence to me. Followed by a jolt of action, which sort of ruins it.
I wonder if this first sentence could be moved after the second sentence. Because then, I would understand it better. The meaning of this sentence really sets the stage and draws me in big time!
You might even start with the stone angel first, then the action, then that powerful sentence. Then a pause. Then the wind. See how that changes everything. Changes the pace. Then, Karen’s voice interrupts this mood…irritating reader and protagonist alike.
I’d keep reading, definitely.
I like this very much–it’s strong, and I really like the shift from the apparent profundity of the first sentence and the narrator’s pensiveness to the comments to the stone angel and Karen. I definitely would like to know where you’re going with this.
Hey all, and thanks for the comments, sorry about the lateness of my replies.
JB:
eh, it’s kinda hard to explain, but it does have to be silences, it refers to multiples, the people themselves, in the (one) past. But I am concerned about how odd it reads though, and thanks for “askew”, you’re quite right there. good idea about not genderizing the wind.
Sherwood:
>Did you mean to say that she appointed herself, he didn’t invite her?
er, yes, lol! that is what I meant, will re-phrase
Debbie:
it’s a stone angel, but I see what you’re getting at, and yeah, will look at re-phrasing that sentence.
Daniel:
>only thing I can think of that you ‘lie within’ is perhaps a coffin or a tomb
kind of, but also as in “it’s locked inside” as opposed to it lies next to, or lies beside. Not sure that makes sense, but anyways, that’s sort of what I wanted. (marrow lies within bones, not beside them, which is oddly my trigger image for that line)
yes, thank you, feedback is always welcome and you explained yourself very well.
Sengai:
Thanks; hmm, I hadn’t considered switching the sequence around, am rather attached to this one, but will play with it and see, might just work, thank you.
Madeleine:
thanks! yes, what I wanted was to start off seemingly abstract and then draw it back in to the characters, it’s a bit of a risk I guess. But my intention was for the opening to be the key to what the whole story was to be about, not sure if it was succesful, but we’ll see.
Thank you all kindly for the comments, it’s much appreciated and I’ll need to think them through a bit.
Yup, I think it’s a good start. The first line is strong & poetic. Some ambiguities made me pause, though perhaps they constitute questions that will draw me on. First, is he attributing a gender to the wind (world-building in connection with ‘his people’) or is the ‘he’ that wants him gone the owner of the bones? Second is the angel real? That one is answered in the lines presented. I wouldn’t be totally hooked after 13 lines, but I’d be happy to give the next 13 a chance!
Len
Hi Len and thanks for the comments.
re: the gender of the wind; actually, that was a bit of thoughtlessness on my part, just arbitrarily assigning a gender since I think of the wind as male:)
am going to neuter it on the re-write.
….neuter him, I think. Sounds painful.
ah, yes, indeed, I did it again it seems. can almost be a story itself:
“My eunuch, the wind”
Yes, I see it now. Set in dusty middle-east — one eunuchs struggle with a can of beans.