I get requests from publicists now and then (via email) to review new books. Usually I just decline because I don't review books. But I told the most recent one that what I would do was look at the novel's opening for effective storytelling, just the way I do writer's samples. Summer Smith, an account executive at Carol Fass Publicity & Public Relations, was confident in her writer's work, and sent the book. So here's a look at the opening.
One day it dawned on me that I had to leave and I had to do it quickly because they knew where I was and how to find me. I don't know how I knew, but it didn't matter.
So I packed my bags, and I turned off all the lights, and I left. I crossed over the George Washington Bridge and drove west, stopping only to use the bathroom, to get gas and coffee, and once a day to eat. I reached San Francisco in less than forty-eight hours. Got there at daybreak, just as the sun rose pale orange over the Bay. And once I got out there I started over. Right from scratch. Even changed my name, thought I didn't change it much, from Rich to Mitch, from Jones to James. I was determined to do things right this time, though I wasn't sure exactly how.
For a start I bought a dark blue double-breasted suit, the first one I'd owned since high school. Next I had a nice résumé done up, on fancy off-white paper, with an elegant type style. None of it was true, but so far from home who would know. I decided I'd been an English teacher at a prestigious little prep school in Vermont. Parsons was what I called it. There may even be a school by that name somewhere. I don't know.
I actually think I would've made a fine English teacher. I know the kids would've loved me, because in my class there'd be no rules, no tests, no specific assignments. Anyone who wanted to could suggest books to read and topics to discuss, and most of our time in class would be spent writing short spontaneous pieces that could be expanded on later if they seemed promising.
Besides teaching, my résumé said I'd also owned a bookstore and done desktop publishing, whatever that is. And my educational background was equally impressive, magna cum laude from Dartmouth, with a double major in European History and English Literature.
For me, the first sentence was a grabber. Raised all kinds of story questions: why did he have to leave? Who were "they?" The next paragraphs kept drawing me forward with hints of a very different character. Someone with little or no attachment to his life in New York, otherwise he couldn't so easily and simply pick up and leave.
The writing is clean and no errors showed up there. There were a couple of storytelling things I'd point out to the author, though. See below.
One day it dawned on me that I had to leave and I had to do it quickly because they knew where I was and how to find me. I don't know how I knew, but it didn't matter.
So I packed my bags, and I turned off all the lights, and I left. I crossed over the George Washington Bridge and drove west, stopping only to use the bathroom, to get gas and coffee, and once a day to eat. (While this suggests that he's leaving New York City, I think many readers unfamiliar with the city would need more of a clue, and it wouldn't have been difficult to add one.) I reached San Francisco in less than forty-eight hours. Got there at daybreak, just as the sun rose pale orange over the Bay. (while this paints a pretty picture in a reader's mind, in actuality the sun would be rising from the east, behind him as he arrives. The sun doesn't really rise over the bay in the way this caused me to see it, not unless you're standing on the ocean shore and looking back) And once I got out there I started over. Right from scratch. Even changed my name, thought I didn't change it much, from Rich to Mitch, from Jones to James. I was determined to do things right this time, though I wasn't sure exactly how.
For a start I bought a dark blue double-breasted suit, the first one I'd owned since high school. (there's a vagueness to this: was it the first suit he'd owned since high school, or the first double-breasted suit?) Next I had a nice résumé done up, on fancy off-white paper, with an elegant type style. None of it was true, but so far from home who would know. (the preceding sentence is "telling," and the following narrative shows this quite well
-- I would suggest deleting it) I decided I'd been an English teacher at a prestigious little prep school in Vermont. Parsons was what I called it. There may even be a school by that name somewhere. I don't know. (I'd cut "I don't know." Too. The preceding sentence makes it clear that he doesn't, so this is redundant.)I actually think I would've made a fine English teacher. I know the kids would've loved me, because in my class there'd be no rules, no tests, no specific assignments. Anyone who wanted to could suggest books to read and topics to discuss, and most of our time in class would be spent writing short spontaneous pieces that could be expanded on later if they seemed promising. (Interesting characterization, as it suggests he knows little about today's kids, especially the older one, for whom books are not popular things to be engaged with, and for whom writing would be a chore, not a beloved activity, if you're to believe the research.)
Besides teaching, my résumé said I'd also owned a bookstore and done desktop publishing, whatever that is. And my educational background was equally impressive, magna cum laude from Dartmouth, with a double major in European History and English Literature.
That last paragraph, in particular, portrays a character with great self-confidence
This sample got me well into page two of the book and kept raising
story questions. There's no direct conflict (yet), but certainly some
is implied with the mysterious "they." The character has a very clear
goal established
If there's anything that was a drag on this for me it was the lack of a scene. It's all telling, all summary and, for me (remember the subjective nature of reading), less involving and less evocative of character.
Still, I kept reading for a while, and that's what the author wants. I can tell you that the next ten pages collapsed six months and a relationship with a woman into mostly telling and summary, with interesting snippets of scenes here and there. I feel he could have lingered more. The effect was to keep me distant from the character because I wasn't experiencing what was happening, I was being told about it. In essence, there came a time when I was able to easily put it down, something the author doesn't want. But that's just me.
Your thoughts?
For what it's worth.
Ray
Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission. Please attach samples as documents to your email.
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© 2006 Ray Rhamey
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