Most Evil Critique Master: Sarah
Working Title: N/A
Don’t panic.
This is what I will tell you when at last we meet.
The scene blossoms in my awareness; you are on the ground. Around you, life happens too fast. Leaving you behind. Bright lights add their punctuation to the rainswept darkness as they flare and fade. The street lights shed their sodium glow in mourning. Incandescent tears.
I watch, gaze following the panicked motion of the people fluttering about you. Their intentions burst from their chests like doves, trailing shards of light. They drift, pulled out behind their splintered streams of sound and colour. They are out of focus. Irrelevant. You, on the other hand, are the fixed point. For this iteration of present, you are the purpose of my existence.
Your heartbeats are fitful. Slowing. A small bird dashing itself against its cage. I wait.
You are cracked. Flawed. Fundamentally. You spin along a catastrophe curve in a state of cheery oblivion, and when it ends – an inevitability, and a bloody one – I am there to discreetly sweep away the pieces. Gently collect you together.
We shall say, for now, that I provide a service.
You are beginning to fail. Layers of neurons closing connections. Shutting down operations. Your lungs are no longer functioning, saturated with blood. Anoxic cell death is imminent.
I move a little closer. You sense my presence, I think; some people do. A side effect of the chemicals flooding your system, the biological equivalent of clamouring alarms and fail-safes.
Strong Points –
I mean, wow??? As in, wow, wow, wow. The second person POV made me wary at first, as second person tends to do, but as soon as I let myself delve in, I was almost wholly enraptured by it. Some of the lines were just so absolutely perfect, like the streetlights with the sodium glow in mourning, and I was like, wow. I couldn’t even say why, but that was my favorite line. I think it might have been that I was also paired with a flavor, the saltiness, which evoked another dimension of the description that just hit the right place for me.
I also love the flow. The variation of sentences. My second favorite sentence is one of the shortest: “I wait”. Holy herd of cattle. It was in the right place with the right combination of elements, and ending that sentence with “I wait” is just the perfect punctuation to the paragraph – and I’m geeking out. Okay.
My third favorite thing is the narrator. Specifically, how hints are dropped, how it’s implied in little doses what the narrator is, and it connected with me just in time in the last paragraph, “You sense my presence, I think; some people do,” and I back-flipped. There are plenty of hints throughout, but it all connected for me with this line.
Some Tips –
Every bit of advice I can give here is only my purest of opinions, which is 100% subjective to my own personal tastes. I’m sure other readers might find the prose perfect as is, but as a fan of restraint, I have some thoughts.
By “restraint”, what I mean is holding back in order to let certain elements shine. Composition in art does this. Clouds and trees and mountains are beautiful, but crammed together and fighting for the same spotlight creates a very busy, distracting image.
The same can apply to writing as well. So many elements competed for the spotlight in this intro that, as much as I liked bits of it, reading was admittedly very slow and cautious, like tip-toeing.
Let’s take this paragraph:
I watch, gaze following the panicked motion of the people fluttering about you. Their intentions burst from their chests like doves, trailing shards of light. They drift, pulled out behind their splintered streams of sound and colour. They are out of focus. Irrelevant. You, on the other hand, are the fixed point. For this iteration of present, you are the purpose of my existence.
If I were to revise it, these are the lines I would consider eliminating or paring down:
I watch, gaze following the panicked motion of the people fluttering about you. Their intentions burst from their chests like doves, trailing shards of light. They drift, pulled out behind their splintered streams of sound and colour. They are out of focus. Irrelevant. You, on the other hand, are the fixed point. For this iteration of present, you are the purpose of my existence.
Let me describe the reasons why:
- This line is so abstract that I’m not sure whether to see it literally or metaphorically, specifically since this is the intro and I’m trying to find some grounding for the setting, to visualize where this is taking place.
- The description contradicts the proceeding line: “They are out of focus. Irrelevant.” So much emphasis is brought upon the people, but then discounted right after, that I wonder why so much attention is drawn to people that are blurred.
- This bit: “Your heartbeats are fitful. Slowing. A small bird dashing itself against its cage.” This part borrows a bird comparison as well, and I would choose this in favour of the former because it’s stronger, and I know it’s not a bird in the literal or semi-literal sense. By now, I’m a little more grounded, and it’s enough that I can gather this is not to be taken literally.
My recommendation would be to reduce the description of the crowd into something that sends them to the back instead of draws the spotlight onto them. The spotlight is on the narrator and the subject of the second person POV. Everything else is less important and, when it competes for the spotlight, takes away from the narrator and the subject.
Another paragraph that was a bit jarring was this one:
You are cracked. Flawed. Fundamentally. You spin along a catastrophe curve in a state of cheery oblivion, and when it ends – an inevitability, and a bloody one – I am there to discreetly sweep away the pieces. Gently collect you together.
The jarring part is more or less this particular part:
You spin along a catastrophe curve in a state of cheery oblivion, and when it ends – an inevitability, and a bloody one
This sentence rips me out of the delicate grip I have on the present given to me from the narrative, and I was confused because I very much pictured the subject literally suddenly spinning. I had to pause and reread the entire paragraph to understand that the intent was to send me backwards in time to get some perspective on what was happening presently, but I had a bit of whiplash from it.
My favorite parts were the ones that I didn’t have to reread or tip-toe through. After that aforementioned paragraph, it was perfectly smooth sailing until the end and I enjoyed it very much.
Like, very much.
This is the type of writing that I would reread just for the beauty of it, and just for the fact that most of it seems so effortless that I seethe with envy. I do, however, need to get through my first read-through with as few hiccups as possible.
Would I Keep Reading?
A little more, at least, to see if there are any further hiccups in the writing. If the language sets me back too often, I’m more likely to put down a book and never pick it up again. I am, however, definitely interested in the story proposed. I’m also curious as to how the second person POV would proceed.
Good luck!
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