Edit: terseness shortchanges mood

The prologue to Judith's novel is below. Give it a read, then see what I think.

Stralsund, June, 1990

All this cloak and dagger stuff is stupid, he thought as he nursed a few beers while he waited for night to fall. With Midsummer approaching, the daylight lingered on like an unwanted guest. Night, when it came, was inky, perhaps from the faint mist hovering over the harbor. He left the Goldenen Anker and walked toward the abandoned grain elevators, with his footsteps echoing down the wooden platform. Lonely sound. Not a soul around.

Eintritt Verboten signs were plastered on the bricks and the boarded up windows. "No Trespassing." If the police patrol came along, how would he explain his presence?

Wanting a cigarette, he waited in the shadows. After this interview, which was bound to go badly, he would visit his sister in Hildesheim. He hadn't been back since their mother died. Ten years. It would be nice to get home again. He would walk around town like a tourist, admiring the half-timbered houses. The ancient white rosebush growing on the cathedral would be blooming. They called it the Millennium Rose. More than a thousand years of blossoms. Now that was something technology couldn't produce.

Even in the gloom, he recognized the man walking to meet him, the "Back Office" as he insisted on being called. The code names were even stupider than the rendezvous spots. He was "the Go-Getter." Goodborn was "the AWOL." That at least fit.

The Back Office didn't bother to shake hands, but flicked on a small flashlight for an instant, muttered "in here," and pushed open a door into a chill black space. Somewhere up in the cavernous ceiling, the moonlight filtered down through a small grilled window.

"Your report, please."

"He won't come home. He certainly won't give it back. He called me a 'weaselly asshole,' and told me to get lost. He said his new friends would kick my butt all the way back to the States." He took a deep breath and braced himself for the unpleasantness to follow.

The Back Office had begun to pace around in the dark.

"Is that all?"

"It's enough for me. He sounded very determined."

"The woman?"

"She wasn't mentioned. I didn't ask."

The Back Office continued to pace. The soft tread on the old floorboards sounded like the man was behind him. The pacing stopped. There was a pause. He felt a pang of fear.
It happened quickly. A rough hand yanked him by the hair and he felt a sharp stab of pain in his throat. He was falling and trying to grab his neck. In the moment of death he still traveled to Hildesheim to visit the old cathedral with the white roses sprawling against the apse.

Caveat: my cuts, additions, and comments are suggestions, not facts, to be used or discarded by the writer.

Juditn's writing is "clean," missing the grammatical and punctuation errors I so often see. Not many line edits here -- but plenty of comments. I thought her prologue missed opportunities to create mood and setting.

Stralsund, June, 1990 This sounds foreign, but isn't necessarily so -- include the country?

All this cloak and dagger stuff is stupid, he thought as he nursed a few beers while he waited for night to fall. For me, too much crammed into this sentence. Also, this means that he had just this one thought while nursing a few beers. Better, I think, to break it up. Thought-starter: All this cloak-and-dagger stuff is stupid. He nursed his beer, the fifth since he'd been waiting for night to come. With Midsummer approaching, the daylight lingered on like an unwanted guest. I think there's a voice problem here. The phrasing in the character's thought evokes a fairly crude man, but this sentence has much more elegant language. I feel that all the narrative, including exposition such as this, should reflect the voice of the character. He wouldn't think in this nicer, more delicate way, with words such as "lingered." Also, you're cramming hours of waiting into three sentences here. I wonder if it wouldn't be more effective to begin with action. Thought-starter: He stepped into the night, the darkness inky from the harbor mist. All this cloak and dagger stuff was stupid. He walked toward the abandoned grain elevators, wondering if he'd nursed one too many beers as he waited for night to fall. His footsteps echoed…etc. Night, when it came, was inky, perhaps from the faint mist hovering over the harbor. why "perhaps?" unless the inkiness does not come from another cause, this raises doubt in the reader's mind. Unless there is another cause, why not be definite? Thought-starter: The faint mist hovering over the harbor turned the night inky when it finally arrived. He left the Goldenen Anker and walked toward the abandoned grain elevators, with; his footsteps echoing echoed down the wooden platform. What "wooden platform?" A dock? Not clear. Lonely sound. Not a soul around.

Eintritt Verboten signs were plastered on the bricks and the boarded-up windows. "No Trespassing." If the police patrol came along, how would he explain his presence?

Wanting a cigarette, he waited in the shadows. Are there lots of street lights? if so, need to mention them so that shadows makes sense -- the night has been described as "inky," which suggests totally black darkness. After this interview, which was bound to go badly, Good foreshadowing and characterization he would visit his sister in Hildesheim. He hadn't been back since their mother died. Ten years. It would be nice to get home again. Suggest delete this sentence -- the rest of the narrative lets me know he thinks it will be nice. He would walk around town like a tourist, admiring the half-timbered houses. The ancient white rosebush growing on the cathedral would be blooming. They called it the Millennium Rose. More than a thousand years of blossoms. Now that was something technology couldn't produce. Since none of the rest of the prologue relates to technology, is this needed?

Even in the gloom, he recognized the man The night has been described as inky, and "gloom" implies light of some sort. Also, without light he couldn't see well enough to recognize the man. walking to meet him, the "Back Office" as he insisted on being called. The code names were even stupider than the rendezvous spots. He was "the Go-Getter." Goodborn was "the AWOL." That at least fit.

The Back Office didn't bother to shake hands, but flicked on a small flashlight for an instant, Did he aim the flashlight at the narrator's face? I would think so, but you need to say so. The narrator would react to light in his dark-adapted eyes, and resent it, I think. Also, I would break this sentence up into two. muttered "In here," and pushed open a door into a chill black space. Maybe more specifics to help give a picture. Is this an abandoned grain elevator? If so, let the reader know, i.e. …a door into the chill black space of an empty grain elevator. What about smell? A musty odor of old grain? Somewhere up in the cavernous ceiling, the moonlight filtered down through a small grilled window. The moonlight would only illuminate a small area of the floor.

"Your report, please."

"He won't come home. He certainly won't give it back. He called me a 'weaselly asshole,' and told me to get lost. He said his new friends would kick my butt all the way back to the States." He took a deep breath and braced himself for the unpleasantness to follow.

The Back Office had begun to pacedaround in the dark. "Is that all?"

"It's enough for me. He sounded very determined."

"The woman?"

"She wasn't mentioned. I didn't ask."

The Back Office continued to pace. The His soft tread on the old floorboards sounded like the man was behind him. The pacing stopped. There was a pause. He felt a pang of fear. I think this could be a little more clear and crisp. i.e: The Back Office paced in a circle, his tread soft on the old floorboards. He Go-Getter felt a pang of fear when he heard the pacing stop behind him.

It happened quickly. A rough hand yanked him by the hair and he felt a sharp stab "sharp stab" is redundant, a stab being sharp by its very nature. Suggest delete "sharp" of pain in his throat. He was falling and trying to grab his neck. if his throat has just been cut he would be able to grab his neck, perhaps feel the blood coming from it. In the moment of death he still traveled to Hildesheim to visit the old cathedral with the white roses sprawling against the apse. To me this last sentence is not credible. His thoughts would be terror and focused on the betrayal.

I suspect Judith didn't write this scene from inside this "throwaway" character's pov, and that's why mood and description are less than they could be.

Ray