Critique #58: Kit Retterson #2
Kevin Andrew Murphy August 17th, 2006
Lee couldn’t understand what the four creatures were
saying, but he knew what they wanted. They had issued
a gracious invitation to join them, which he had unwittingly
declined. He had figured that out because each had a rough
hold on one of his limbs and together they were carrying
him out of the woods.
“Vrecka!†he thought and relaxed. There was no point
struggling because the clone he was using didn’t have
the strength to break free from four of them. Lee logged
the shortcoming into his mission notes to his bioengineer,
then put himself into a deep processing reverie.
I’ve read this a couple of times and couldn’t put my finger on why I was bouncing off it.
I think part of the problem is that the second clause of the opening sentences doesn’t add anything, but almost seems to contradict the first clause, or to push me backwards rather than forward. At least, if I read them without the second clauses, I find myself moving more quickly to the third sentence, which does hold my attention.
But then I lose it all again. I have no idea what Vrecka is, so I have no reaction–it’s just more wordage to try to parse without success. Then the protag relaxes, so I think, okay, no problem after all. Then there’s the introduction of a clone and I’m thinking “What clone?” and I go back to the beginning again, trying to find a clone. Then I finally figured he was riding a clone mentally, but wished that had been clearer at the outset. Last, he makes a note and checks out, and that checked me right out of the story.
This has a light tone, but the wrapup undermines my interest in the situation since so little seems to be at stake.
Also, like Sherwood, I kept bouncing off the sentences. I kept going back to reevaluate what I’d read before. He knew he had turned down a gracious invitation because they were kidnapping him? Or were they expelling him, since they’re carrying him *out* of the woods?
And just as I’ve figured out that’s what they wanted, as mentioned in the first sentence, there’s an expletive (I’m assuming) that could be a prayer to a fell god, or a call to a friend, or pidgin-creature for “Uncle!” Then I find out that he’s not actually there at all, but operating by remote control.
Instead of building context, you’re undermining it, IMO.
Also, I think some of your word choice and rhythms undercut the light tone. Having “had” in the first paragraph four times, as an example, creates a staccato read, which feels wrong when matched with this subject matter.
On a story level, though, I like it. It would be a fun opening if the sentences were switched around a bit.
Hope that helps.
Thanks. Excellent comments.
The second sentence is meant to (but apparently fails) to convey Lee’s sarcastic nature — I’d actually already amended it to:
Lee couldn’t understand what the creatures were saying, but he knew what they wanted. They had issued a gracious invitation to join them that he had unwittingly, and apparently ungraciously, declined. No wonder they’d reacted poorly; his fault that each of them now had a painful, rough-handed hold on one of his small limbs, and together they were hauling him out of the woods.
I can’t help fiddling with my own stuff ad nauseum….
Good point on the notion that he’s operating a clone by remote — he’s not (obviously a failing of my prose if that’s what the reader read). His consciousness is loaded inside a clone. He’s in there; he’s just not paying attention most of the time — because he’s shirking his job responsibilities (as you find out later).
At the end of the second paragraph, I added:
“…then put himself into a processing reverie to relieve the long-trip boredom that was already overtaking him.”
Don’t know if the addendum makes it clearer that he’s inside the clone . . .
I think it becomes apparent in the next paragraph, but if it’s not enough to make a reader wonder about what’s going on enough to turn the page… back to work!
Thank you!!
The first paragraph implies (with “creatures” and “woods”) that it’s going to be fantasy.
Then there’s a “clone” and a “bioengineer” — and the reader gets speedbumped from one genre to another.
Perhaps it’s not the problem of unintelligible language but the sudden genre shift that is confusing.