It’s All Just A Case of History Repeating

We are nearly at the end of Chris’s teaching article, and she’s evaluating the “opening overall,” as well as providing a lead in for Chapter One. I’ve numbered again, instead of bulleting.

CW: “Clearly, this prologue has many issues.

1. Erikson’s information management is abysmal. He overwhelms readers with unnecessary details and bores them with dry exposition while simultaneously denying them the information they need to know

2. The characters are all flat clichés, from the naive boy who wants to be a hero, to the seasoned soldier, to the cold, imperious villain. I’m not saying you shouldn’t depict a naive child or seasoned soldier, but please do something to make them a little more interesting.

3.Most of all, Erikson’s scene design needs serious work. A series should not open with characters standing around talking about events happening somewhere else. Scenes should feature the story’s most important events. Put an important character where they need to be for that to happen.

My best guess is that despite the length of the series, it’s still overburdened with more information that it can handle. Simply telling readers about the death of Dassem, the burning Mouse Quarter, and Laseen’s plans allows Erikson to stuff in more world events than he could cover if he featured an exciting scene with Dassem’s death by angry god, Ganoes getting trapped in the Mouse Quarter during a riot, or Laseen assassinating the emperor. The only cost is everything that could have been good about this scene.“

I’m not going to refer you back to everything I’ve said, but I believe my previous responses answered these issues. To be perfectly honest, I am posting this only so that anyone reading gets a complete picture of the article and how it was presented.

Chris then goes on to give the readers an opening for Chapter One, which is actually a “snippet” prior to the chapter. Given that the snippets for the prologue were considered insignificant “additions,” it’s surprising that Chris quoted this as an opening teaser. As per her previous examples, the snippet is taken out of context, and also misrepresented. So where are the lessons for budding writers? What part of this article is teaching?

Maybe, Ms. Winkle will let me know.

My final thoughts are here.

Edited to add: I posted the link to my blog response as a comment on the original article at the same time as I posted to both a reddit community and a discord community (6th August.) Comments on the post have to be approved. Mine, which explained that due to length I had provided a link, has not been approved and I have had no response from Chris thus far. Not that I expect nor need or require one. I just thought it was quite interesting.

Villains Don’t Have to Look Villainous

I’m just jumping straight into this one, because I can’t really think of an appropriate introduction.

A new voice spoke behind them, a woman’s, imperious and cold. “Commander.”

CW: “Her voice is imperious and cold so she must be a villain. As soon as people commit their first unspeakable act, their voice starts to sound like that. It’s just science.”

This appears to be a more generalised comment, rather than specific to the text. However, it is an assumption that Chris makes without there being any evidence in the text to corroborate it.

Assumptions that are not supported by the text are one of my main issues with this article, and unfortunately, they are a frequent occurrence. You can “read into” the text and glean information or even develop theories from it, but assuming something can cause all sort of problems, both in reading and in writing – it’s misrepresentation.

The article is not supposed to be an opinion piece and is not represented as one – this is a lesson for writers in what not to do – and basing a lot of the criticism on unfounded assumptions isn’t useful or helpful. It also doesn’t support the point of the article which is to highlight errors for writers to learn from.

Both soldiers turned, but without haste. The commander said to his companion, “The new company needs help down there. Send Dujek and a wing, and get some sappers to contain the fires – wouldn’t do to have the whole city burn.”

The soldier nodded, marched away, sparing the woman not a single glance.

She stood with two bodyguards near the portal in the citadel’s square tower. Her dusky blue skin marked her as Napan, but she was otherwise plain, wearing a saltstained grey robe, her mousy hair cut short like a soldier’s, her features thin and unmemorable. It was, however, her bodyguards that sent a shiver through Ganoes. They flanked her: tall, swathed in black, hands hidden in sleeves, hoods shadowing their faces.

Ganoes had never seen a Claw before, but he instinctively knew these creatures to be acolytes of the cult. Which meant the woman was…

CW: “I like that Laseen has a distinctive look that isn’t sexy or repulsive. Even so, Erikson has given her an attractiveness rating. When he described the commander’s scars and the soldier’s pock marks, it was refreshingly without any value judgement. Once the first female character walks in, Erikson wants to clarify that she’s plain. I’ve seen far worse, but there’s room for improvement.”

I don’t think that this was the intention, as I read the “plain” to mean lack of colour, given that the previous comment was referring to her being blue skinned, but it could be interpreted as an attractiveness rating.

The commander said, “It’s your mess, Surly. Seems I’ll have to clean it up.”

Ganoes was shocked at the absence of fear – the near-contempt in the soldier’s voice. Surly had created the Claw, making it a power rivalled only by the Emperor himself.

CW: “What do you do when you have a precocious child sitting around, but you’re done expositing? Why, have him gawk in awe at your super-cool hero, of course! How will readers know how very brave this rugged commander is without a child fawning over him?Instead of fawning, it’s better to give the readers some context so they understand the risks characters are taking. Erikson is making a minor attempt at this too, but what in the world does he mean? Is the Claw the power only rivaled by the emperor? If so, what does Laseen creating it have to do with that? Or is it supposed to be “making her power rivaled only…” ? Even if this were clear, we don’t know how powerful the emperor is or how essential magical power is to maintaining his political power.”

This is an example of reading into the text that doesn’t work. There is no magic mentioned in the text – so the suggestion that Chris makes here about how essential magical power is to maintaining the emperor’s political power has not come from the quoted section. In fact, it hasn’t come from any of the text in the prologue so far. Magic has been mentioned, as have mages, but there is no mention anywhere of magical power and its importance.

Surly had created the Claw, making it a power rivalled only by the Emperor himself.

The confusion over this sentence is unnecessary. It’s self-explanatory unless you add in assumptions about what kind of “power” is being spoken about.

“That’s no longer my name, Commander.”

The man grimaced. “So I’ve heard. You must be feeling confident in the Emperor’s absence. He’s not the only one who remembers you as nothing more than a serving-wench down in the Old Quarter. I take it the gratitude’s washed off long since.”

CW: “Wow, this commander is apparently classist and sexist. Plus, Laseen has gained a sympathetic backstory about working her way out of poverty. I’m now on Team Laseen!”

More assumptions. The commander said she was serving wench. There is no mention of her circumstances other than that.

CW: “It doesn’t help that this rudeness toward Laseen, which Erikson clearly intended to be heroes showing bravery, can easily be reinterpreted as a good ol’ boys’ club demeaning a woman who managed to break in. I don’t know how many powerful women there are in this setting, but she is the only woman among our first four characters, and high fantasy doesn’t have a great track record.”

Chris is right, high fantasy does not have a great track record regarding powerful women, or women in general to be fair. However, the assumption that  the rudeness towards the female character was “clearly intended” by the author to make heroes look brave, is just that, an assumption. It can be re-interpreted as a good old boys club demeaning women, but this is not what is presented in the text. As a teaching point, it’s a valid exercise in advising writers to be aware that this could be something that could be wrongly interpreted, but there is no such advice stated.

CW: “While I’m not going to blame Erikson for doing this twenty years ago, I also strongly recommend against creating fictional scenarios in which ignoring a character’s name change is justified. If a character states what they want to be called, other characters – and the narration – should use that name. That is, unless you are fully prepared to take on sensitive topics like deadnaming, racism, etc.”

Chris’s recommendation here is very good advice, and I can understand this argument in the case of characters assuming a new name for identity purposes. However, in the case of Surly/Laseen this is a name she has taken that means “Thronemaster” – it is a name that reflects her status, not who she is – but what she does. The fact that the commander doesn’t use the name she has chosen for herself is because he doesn’t agree with what she is doing, not because of who she is.

The woman’s face betrayed no change of expression to mark if the man’s words had stung. “The command was a simple one,” she said. “It seems your new officers are unable to cope with the task.”

“It’s got out of hand,” the commander said. “They’re unseasoned -”

“Not my concern,” she snapped. “Nor am I particularly disappointed. Loss of control delivers its own lessons to those who oppose us.”

“Oppose? A handful of minor witches selling their meagre talents—to what sinister end? Finding the coraval schools on the shoals in the bay. Hood’s Breath, woman, hardly a threat to the Empire.”

“Unsanctioned. Defiant of the new laws – ”

“Your laws, Surly. They won’t work, and when the Emperor returns he’ll quash your prohibition of sorcery, you can be certain of that.”

CW: “Hey look – magic is outlawed, but not because the setting has oppressed mages! For anyone who hasn’t kept up with the hot gossip on Mythcreants, “oppressed mages” is a term we use when non-magical people oppress magic folks specifically because of their magic or magic-related traits. This trope misrepresents oppression by suggesting the vulnerable can oppress the powerful, when it’s always the other way around.

In this case, Laseen clearly has magic of her own, much more than these witches. It’s realistic that she’d want to further consolidate her power by eliminating magic workers who associate with her enemies.”

Chris makes the assumption that Laseen has magic of her own because she has combined a piece of information from the text (that magic is outlawed) with the assumption she previously made regarding magical power. The text does not state anywhere that Laseen clearly has magic of her own (emphasis mine) or is in any way magical. This is a misrepresentation of the text, caused by misinterpretation of the text. Or vice versa.

In the next section, there is a substantial part of the article where Chris notes several corrections to the text in the book. All of which were received positively, and I would imagine would have been suggestions that she would have made (and rightly so) in the critique. For continuity purposes, and to lead us into the final part of the prologue, here it is:

CW: “Fun fact: in the version of the book sold on Amazon, several great corrections have been made to the last two paragraphs here.

• Ganoes’s thoughts are italicized! Even with italics, it’s still a little strange, as we haven’t gotten any such thoughts until now.
• The word “Izine” has been swapped out for “wine.” Good choice, because that line looks racist otherwise. Using “wine” makes the work of this theoretical merchant sound much more decadent, too.
• Finally, a paragraph break was added after “merchant” and before the commander narrows his eyes. Hip hip hooray! The old “new paragraph when a new person speaks” rule is baloney. The commander is still responding to Ganoes with his body language, much like speaking.

The prologue is almost over. It can’t be over yet, though. There’s one more thing that Erikson has to cover before it ends.

Something very important.”

Mock’s Vane swung once more. Hot smoke rolled over the wall, engulfing them. A reek of burning cloth, scorched paint and stone, and now of something sweet. “An abattoir’s caught fire,” Ganoes said. “Pigs.”

The commander grimaced. After a long moment he sighed and leaned back down on the merlon. “As you say, boy, as you say.”

CW: “We can’t leave without saying goodbye to Mock’s Vane! Since the smoke is back, I’ll say that Ganoes’s choice to become a soldier leads to DOOM. I sure hope so. I won’t hazard a guess at what the burning slaughterhouse means or why Erikson decided to close with it.

That is the end of the prologue. But don’t worry, the first chapter reveals that our dear Laseen succeeded in her takeover of the empire. I’m sure she got rid of that classist and sexist commander who spouts life wisdom at any rich boys who happen to be nearby.”

I’m fairly sure when I originally read this ending, it was different, and I distinctly remember the confusion around the word abattoir and what it meant/why it was relevant. What I remember is alluded to in Chris’s final comments, but just for clarification, it’s not pigs that Ganoes can smell.

Once more unto the Finale

Persistently Pedantic

I’ve already made it clear that I believe there’s something other than an objective analysis in the original article, and I’ve also mentioned several times that taking things out of context will cause confusion. Hopefully, I haven’t been so repetitive as to put you off, and you’re still reading on! In this next section, the fact that the analysis has changed from objective to subjective, becomes even clearer.

Scenes Should Highlight the Action

CW: “Next, another character enters the scene. Thank goodness; maybe something will happen.”

Armour clanking, soldier appeared along the wall near him. The man leaned vambraced forearms on the battlement, the scabbard of his longsword scraping against the stones. “Glad for your pure blood, eh?” he asked, grey eyes on the smouldering city below.

CW: “Pure blood of what? Does this just mean Ganoes is a nobleman? What does that have to do with the riot? Who knows! Again, mysteries require some context. Complete bewilderment isn’t mystery.

Instead of replying to this, Ganoes just stares at the soldier so Erikson can dump two more paragraphs of exposition. Is it exposition that explains anything about what the soldier said? Of course not. I’ve put only the first paragraph below, because my goal isn’t to bore you to death.”

Chris asks, “Pure blood of what?” – It is clear from the text that Ganoes is of a noble house/noble blood. CW: “What does this have to do with the riot?” What it has to do with the riot is about his location in the Hold. He is safer than the other citizens because of his status as noble born – how many nobles, unless they are also soldiers, take part in riots in any story? Or even in reality if you like? It’s a case of safety. Additionally, we find out his age in the next section, and it can be assumed (with a factual basis) that Ganoes is removed from the riots beneath because he is of a noble house and so young, because his father is somewhat powerful.

Anyway, let’s get back to it. The next book quote is as follows:

The boy studied the soldier. He already knew the complete regimental accoutrements of the Imperial Army, and the man at his side was a commander in the Third – one of the Emperor’s own, an elite. On his dark grey shoulder-cloak was a silver brooch: a bridge of stone, lit by ruby flames. A Bridgeburner.

CW: “This paragraph tells me this guy is a commander of an elite unit. That’s all; everything else is meaningless. He’s in the Third something, accoutrement? I don’t know what that is, and this time I’m not going to look it up. Erikson hasn’t said what a Bridgeburner is.

The second paragraph is just more about the island and empire, blah blah.

It looks like Erikson is slowly moving into Ganoes head. Just a few paragraphs ago, Erikson was expositing Mock’s Hold while Ganoes stared in the other direction. Now he’s using the boy’s attention to explain where the exposition comes from. It’s still distant narration, but I’m not sure it’s omniscient anymore. Theoretically, the closer distance could help us to get to know Ganoes. However, given the dearth of personality in the narration so far, I doubt it will do that.“

Accoutrement refers to the type of uniform the soldier is wearing. And yes, I did look it up, but it’s also inferred in the text because Ganoes recognises the soldier’s uniform. Either way, it’s obvious that this guy is part of the Imperial Army, because it’s stated in the text. This gives context. It’s some sort of regiment in the army of the emperor (we can assume Kellanved.) The man is a Bridgeburner – the fact that it is in italics for emphasis, shows that whoever this soldier is, he’s important. That’s more context – even though we don’t know what a Bridgeburner is the reader can make a valid assumption that this title refers to a part of the army or solider group that deals with a particular thing. Readers also know that Ganoes is a boy, which implies youth – a young son. Youngsters have no tact or sense of decorum; they just are. Youthful innocence and arrogance, if you like. As for Chris’s opinion that there has been a lack of personality in the narration, only eight paragraphs into a prologue, why would you expect there to be? Unless the prologue was specifically centred on a character, which this one is not.

Then comes the next book quote:

“Is it true then?” Ganoes asked boldly.

“Is what true?”

“The First Sword of the Empire. Dassem Ultor. We heard in the capital before we left. He’s dead. Is it true? Is Dassem dead?”

The man seemed to flinch, his gaze unwavering on the Mouse. “Such is war,” he muttered, under his breath, as if the words were not meant for anyone else’s ears.

“You’re with the Third. I thought the Third was with him, in Seven Cities. At Y’Ghatan – “

“Hood’s Breath, they’re still looking for his body in the still-hot rubble of that damned city, and here you are, a merchant’s son three thousand leagues from Seven Cities with information only a few are supposed to possess.” He still did not turn. “I know not your sources, but take my advice and keep what you know to yourself.”

Ganoes shrugged. “It is said he betrayed a god.“

CW: “Why are we watching characters standing around on a wall talking when we could be watching this Dassem betray a god and get smited for it? This work has 92 characters and probably ten POVs or something. Erikson might as well include Dassem. Why did he choose to open his series with this moment on the wall?

Maybe Ganoes is the hero and Erikson wanted to introduce him. That would be a good intention, but in that case, Erikson should have chosen a moment in Ganoes’s life that mattered. Instead he chose a moment in which Ganoes stands around gawking at things and spouting convenient exposition.“

Why are we watching them talking? Why did he choose to open this way? Because it’s relevant. This is an introduction for the rest of the book. Erikson is giving the reader a hook to chew on. How significant are these people talking? What are they on about? How did Dassem die? Why and how did he betray a god? Will I find out if I read on? It’s more than likely.

CW: “Erikson should have chosen a moment in Ganoes’s life that mattered.“

This is another unfounded assumption. Who is to say that this is not a moment in his life that mattered to him? Further on in the story, readers see that it is an occasion that Ganoes considers significant enough that he remembers the interaction. Just because we do not know that this is significant at the time of reading is not the point. Again, Chris is assuming that this is insignificant without any evidence.

CW: “Setting aside the poor choice of opening scene, let’s look at the dialogue. Does it sound like these two people are talking to each other?“

I cannot fathom how this dialogue doesn’t sound like a conversation.

Again, I’m numbering instead of bullet-pointing.

CW: 1 – “Certainly “is it true” and “is what true” are well connected. Full marks for that. I will forgive the way Ganoes says “is it true” out of nowhere, since people do that sometimes.“

CW: 2 – “Then Ganoes answer to “is what true?” is “The First Sword of the Empire.” That doesn’t compute. Yes, Ganoes gets to the point later, but it’s a strange immediate response. I think the idea here is that Ganoes is using Dassem’s title because the rest is supposed to be obvious. But it’s not obvious to readers, and it doesn’t square with the idea that Ganoes knows information no one else does. Plus, if he’s just blurting out Dassem’s title to start, I would expect it to be just “The First Sword,” with the extra of “Empire” dropped.“

Ganoes has heard a rumour in the capital and he’s looking for confirmation from a Bridgeburner (whose position in the army makes Ganoes think that this guy has the answer.) As for the follow up from “is what true?” I’m not entirely sure why Chris is confused by ‘The First Sword of the Empire” rather than just “The First Sword.” By adding of the Empire, Erikson is showing us that he’s talking about someone who worked for/belonged to the Empire. He’s giving us context again. Also, we know that Ganoes is from a noble house, so he’s probably been taught to respect authority and use titles where applicable. It is the same in respect of how he recognises the uniforms of soldiers. These are probably things he has been taught.

CW: 3 – “Next, Erikson has a purposeful interruption in which the commander mutters under his breath. Erikson helpfully tells us it’s done as if the words weren’t meant for other ears. Does this mean it is, in fact, meant for Ganoes’s ears and the commander doesn’t have any volume control? Either way, muttering while you stare at the horizon is an odd response.“

Muttering could just indicate that he doesn’t really want to disclose information, or doesn’t know how to answer Ganoes questions but that muttering equates to anything other than annoyance or possible breach of confidentiality regarding another high-ranking officer is just being critical for the sake of it. It’s not that deep. Just as an aside, the commander is not staring at the horizon, he’s watching the Mouse Quarter, where people are rioting and fighting. “Such is war” links what he’s watching with the idea of war, and death.

CW: 4 – “For some reason, Ganoes seems to take his lack of response to mean the commander doesn’t know the answer. So he blurts out some exposition to explain why the commander is supposed to know.“

Again, he’s a boy, fishing for information. This also expands the universe, letting readers know that a place called Y’Ghatan  – in Seven Cities exists and that there’s some fighting going on there too.

CW: 5 – “The commander doesn’t answer once again, and for some reason he is not willing to say he won’t answer. So he just starts lampshading how Ganoes knows all this world exposition he wouldn’t realistically know.“

Now, I admit, I had no idea what ‘lampshading’ was, so I looked it up, and in writing (because there are lots of different ways to use the word) it is ‘a writers’ trick of dealing with any element of the story that seems to dubious to take at face value, whether a very implausible plot development or a particularly blatant use of a trope, by calling attention to it and simply moving on.‘ I find it interesting that Chris thinks that this is what has happened. In fact, the whole point is interesting in that sense because not only does the commander pretty much confirm that Dassem is more than likely dead, given that people are “still looking for his body in the still-hot rubble of that damned city” – which answers Ganoes’ question, but also the ‘lampshading’ is simply not there. The commander doesn’t know Ganoes sources, but the reader does – because it was said earlier that he “brushed shoulders” with “high-ranking soldiers and officials.”

CW: 6 – “Instead of giving the commander some kind of relevant response, Ganoes takes another opportunity to exposit about what happened. At least it’s short and dramatic. The shrug is odd, though. Is betraying a god really something people shrug about in this setting?“

Ganoes shrugs because he’s got his answer, and his response is his explanation for it. Dassem betrayed a god, therefore that must be the reason he died. It’s straightforward.

CW: 7 – “Altogether, I’m getting the impression this dialogue is disjointed so Erikson has an excuse to tell readers what he wants. But if he’s going to give information for the sake of the reader, maybe he could start by making the story comprehensible.“

This is where more subjectivity enters the analysis. Chris is saying the story is incomprehensible, but it isn’t, and there is no proof to suggest otherwise.

Still, we progress to the next part of the prologue.

Finally the man faced him. His face was scarred, and something that might have been a burn marred his jaw and left cheek. For all that, he looked young for a commander. “Heed the lesson there, son.”

“What lesson?”

“Every decision you make can change the world. The best life is the one the gods don’t notice. You want to live free, boy, live quietly.”

“I want to be a soldier. A hero.”

“You’ll grow out of it.”

CW: “It’s only the prologue, and we already have a heroic pep talk! It’s especially strange because Ganoes was just curious about what happened, as anyone would be. How does the commander know Ganoes wants to be a hero? It’s almost as if some omniscient creator imbued the commander with special knowledge that Ganoes is a protagonist.“

I’m not sure if Chris got confused here, because her objection doesn’t make sense.  How does the commander know Ganoes wants to be a hero? Ganoes quite literally says it to the commander. It’s also not a pep talk – pep talks generally “big-up” the idea, enthuse and encourage someone etc. This is not what the commander is doing – actually it’s the opposite. He’s trying to convince Ganoes not to be a soldier, and to live a quiet life. Reading into the text suggests that Ganoes sees the soldiers as heroes and it’s something he aspires to be. The fact that the commander is warning Ganoes against being a soldier brings more relevance to the scene – there is a reason the commander is trying to talk the young man out of his ideas. Readers don’t know what it is yet, but the inference is there.

CW: “Here’s the lesson you can take from this. Every story you write can change the world. The best career is the one the public doesn’t notice. If you want to live free, write quietly.“

More unnecessary mockery for a teaching article.

CW: “Now that I’ve given you some sage advice that fits very naturally into this article, I should mention that I like the assertion that Ganoes will grow out of wanting to be a hero. It has a little humour. Also, I hope he actually does. That would be more interesting that yet another young white boy who naively wants to save the world.“

It is not an assertion, it’s an assumption – the commander cannot know what will or will not happen to Ganoes. Another assumption – that Ganoes is white – is a massive one. I understand the arguments as to why Chris makes this assumption, but there is no factual content representing this assumption in the text.

Mock’s Vane squealed as a wayward gust from the harbour cleared the grainy smoke. Ganoes could now smell rotting fish and the waterfront’s stink of humanity.

CW: “Mock’s Vane returns! For some reason. I’m sure it’s very Symbolic, given its presence in such a Serious work. Also, why would a waterfront stink of humanity? Waterfronts are well known for their water, which makes packed crowds of sweating people notably less likely. Is there sewage in the water? I hope not.“

I don’t think that a waterfront would necessarily stink of humanity, however, this feels like a near-medieval setting, and it’s plausible that the rioting people (as well as those not yet rioting/not involved) from Mouse Quarter (who are the poorest, as the reader knows) are fleeing away from the scene and their “scent” has been picked up and carried with the wind as it changed, along with the rotting fish. I am assuming, based on the facts given in text, that they have a “scent” because the poorest in these settings are usually living in less than adequate circumstances and have not washed etc.

Another Bridgeburner, this one with a broken, scorched fiddle strapped to his back, came up to the commander. He was wiry and if anything younger – only a few years older than Ganoes himself, who was twelve. Strange pock marks covered his face and the backs of his hands, and his armour was a mixture of foreign accoutrements over a threadbare, stained uniform.

CW: “Ganoes is twelve? I assumed he was a teenager. Again, there are a number of hints in the text that he’s young, but they’re just hints. With everything else going on, I didn’t pick them up, and a young protagonist’s age is something readers should know right away. His age would have been easy to work in, since the narration was in omniscient when Ganoes was introduced.“

The hints that Ganoes was young were very noticeable in my opinion, but if they weren’t picked up then that’s fair to say. I agree that his age could have been worked in earlier, but also consider this to be the first time that his age is relevant to the scenario – in that Ganoes is comparing himself to another younger person. I also don’t think that the age of a character is something a reader should know right away, and I say that as a reader. However, I can see why there could be a case for it in some settings.

CW: “Alright, so soldier #2 has entered the scene. What will happen next? If you guessed ‘more disjointed conversation,’ you’re correct!“

And the quote:

“It’s a bad smell when sorcerers panic,” the newcomer said. “They’re losing control down there. Hardly the need for a whole cadre of mages, just to sniff out a few wax-witches.”

The commander sighed. “Thought to wait to see if they’d rein themselves in.”

The soldier grunted. “They are all new, untested. This could scar some of them for ever. Besides,” he added, “more than a few down there are following someone else’s orders.”

“A suspicion, no more.”

“The proof’s right there,” the other man said. “In the Mouse.”

“Perhaps.”

“You’re too protective,” the man said.”

CW: “It almost sounds as though there’s something much more interesting happening in the Mouse Quarter right now. But to be fair to Erikson, if the prologue featured the Mouse Quarter instead, we would just watch some mages have a bewildering discussion.

It’s fairly clear that these soldiers are discussing mages doing things they shouldn’t. But “Besides” in the third paragraph trips me up every time. This word means the soldier is making an argument, but what?

My best guess is that he’s still supporting his very first statement, “It’s a bad smell when sorcerer’s panic.” However, his commander didn’t disagree about that, so if that’s the case, why is he still arguing? If he wants his commander to go in and stop them, why doesn’t he say so?

After that, how is the commander’s skepticism protective? Is he protecting the mages? If I stop and think about it, I can come up with plausible ways to fill the cracks of logic here, but it takes me out of the story. After a couple of scenes doing this, I’d probably be exhausted. And what payoff would I get for trying to decipher such shoddy communication? Nothing I couldn’t get from a fantasy series that didn’t make me do all of this work.

It’s interesting that Erikson hasn’t named either the commander or the soldier under his command. It’s a good decision if these characters won’t appear again, but it’s odd considering how Erikson hasn’t held back with other proper nouns.“

I know that this is a fair chunk of text, but I want to address this section in its totality because it really comes down to two things on the part of CW. Taking text out of context, and misunderstanding use of a word in the text.

When things are taken out of context, which has happened quite regularly in this analysis, things don’t make sense, or have less of a chance to be understood. The teaching focus here, should be on writers, aspiring or otherwise, to remember that context is key (for the most part) particularly in terms of conversation. That does not mean that the reader cannot be ‘dropped’ into a conversation that they don’t know anything about, because context follows in the exposition. However, to deliberately omit the next part of the conversation here, just to ask questions, make assumptions about the text and find fault is not a useful teaching tool.

Chris’s responses to this part of the conversation, from an analysis perspective, are somewhat understandable because the conversation is taken out of context, and this, ironically, is a perfect example for writers as to the confusion that taking things out of context can cause.

Where Chris is “tripped up” about the use of ‘Besides’ in the third paragraph Chris states that “this word means the soldier is making an argument” but the use of ‘besides’ in this case, means “also” or “in addition to” – because it’s conversational – the soldier is really saying ‘Oh, and another thing, more than a few down there are following someone else’s orders.’  The correct understanding of the word makes the next set of arguments irrelevant.

The next part of the article is the remainder of the conversation between the characters, and, now that context is in place, aside from a few comments about the author over-using the wind and the weathervane, Chris herself overturns the argument she made earlier about “disjointed conversation” because when read as a whole, the “dialogue is fairly easy to follow.” Again, there is a shift in tone of the analysis, moving towards the negative aspects I’ve previously mentioned being prevalent throughout. I am, again, not going to re-iterate Chris’s comments here, but here is the text from the book, continuing the conversation that was stopped out of context for previous comments:

“You’re too protective,” the man said. “Surly says it’s your greatest weakness.”

“Surly’s the Emperor’s concern, not mine.”

A second grunt answered that. “Maybe all of us before too long.”

The commander was silent, slowly turning to study his companion.

The man shrugged. “Just a feeling. She’s taking a new name, you know. Laseen.”

“Laseen?”

“Napan word. Means -”

“I know what it means.”

“Hope the Emperor does, too.”

Ganoes said, “It means Thronemaster.”

The two looked down at him.

The wind shifted again, making the iron demon groan on its perch – a smell of cool stone from the Hold itself. “My tutor’s Napan,” Ganoes explained.

One criticism I can agree with is as follows:

CW: “The sentence with the weather vane should be in the same paragraph as “The two looked down at him.” There, it would more naturally draw out the pause in the conversation. Ganoes’s dialogue marks a shift to a new person; it should start a new paragraph.”

The wind shifted again, making the iron demon groan on its perch – a smell of cool stone from the Hold itself.

One of the things I should mention here, that Chris didn’t, is that this last sentence could have been worded better regarding the smell from the Hold – even just adding  a reference would help, for example: The wind shifted again, making the iron demon groan on its perch – it carried with it a smell of cool stone from the Hold itself. Or something similar, and better. This is the first time I was taken out of the text while reading. The reader knows what Erikson means, but it feels out of place without an extra reference.

Next, Chris looks at why Villains Don’t Have to Look Villainous.

Deliberate Disregard?

Quite often in literature, the introduction throws readers into a situation that the have no knowledge of. Let’s face it. If you read a fantasy novel that immediately told you everything you needed to know, it would be boring, and you would wonder what the point of it was. Literature can also give information that is relevant, without starting the actual story that they have written. Lords of the Rings starts with information about Hobbits, for example. Others begin describing cities (The Darkness that Comes Before, R. Scott Bakker), some with shock scenarios involving characters that haven’t been introduced (Ink Blood Sister Scribe, Emma Torzs) you get the idea. Openings that “drop the reader” into such situations are referred to as ‘media res,’ which literally translates to “in the middle of things.”

Erikson utilises this style in much of Gardens of the Moon.

It can get confusing at times and is similar to a jigsaw puzzle of sorts – with the reader having to put pieces together throughout the story, and the author bringing everything together at the conclusion of the story/book. It can also be very effective, especially where different plot lines, arcs, or character viewpoints come together in a crescendo. Just because this style may be confusing or disconcerting for some readers, does not mean that it is not a valid way to begin a story, as long as the author has the ability to bring all the threads together eventually. As a reader, I enjoy putting the pieces together, coming up with theories and guesses – especially in the thriller/suspense/horror and crime/mystery genres. In fantasy, it can and does work, but as I said, the writer must have the ability to bring everything together in the end, so that the “payoff” for the readers patience is rewarding. In this next part of the article, Chris discusses disorientation, and why she believes it is a problem in the prologue of Gardens of the Moon.

Watch For Disorientation in Your Opening Paragraphs

CW: “Alright, we’re finally past the intro stuff. Really, I swear. That means it’s time for the first sentence! Oh boy.“

The stains of rust seemed to map blood seas on the black, pocked surface of Mock’s Vane.

CW: “I have no idea what’s happening here. There is no context for this description with knowing what Mock’s Vane is. On top of that, “seemed to” is a terrible phrase for an opening line. Besides its frequent appearance as needless clutter, “seemed to” makes the reader second-guess what’s going on. Since readers are already clueless during the opening line, this is a quick recipe for disorientation.

If you want anything to be mysterious, you have to give readers their bearings first. That way, they have some means of comparing the known with the unknown.

At least the line is atmospheric. I’ll give it 1.5 out of 5 stars.

Since it’s a proper noun, I’m guessing “Mock’s Vane” is a strange blackened place, maybe one that has a lot of iron ore.”

Why would a reader expect context for a description in the first, opening line? Especially a short one? This is not a valid representation of disorientation because the sentence does not stand alone as a paragraph.

If the opening line was a paragraph of its own, I could see the possibility for the reader to be confused, or disoriented, but it isn’t.  I think the main issue here is that Chris hasn’t analysed the whole paragraph, and this seems deliberate to make a point. It falls flat, because it’s not in context.

CW: “On top of that, “seemed to” is a terrible phrase for an opening line. Besides its frequent appearance as needless clutter, “seemed to” makes the reader second-guess what’s going on”

The use of ‘seemed to’ in this sentence is like the author using the ‘appeared to.’ It’s something that isn’t fixed. It’s like saying ‘the moon seemed to smile down at me’ – the moon doesn’t smile any more than the vane has maps of blood seas painted onto it – but it appears that it does. The imagery of ‘blood seas’ creates an atmosphere, and again, if it was just one line as a paragraph, it would seem out of place and leave the reader confused, but it isn’t a paragraph on its own.

I also think that as a lesson in writing, any potential author should be relatively aware of the level of comprehension of their target audience. The comment that the CW: “readers are already clueless” and that there is CW: “no context for the description without knowing what ‘Mock’s Vane’ is,” is moot, because more context follows. I say more, because there has already been slight context, because we know it’s a “vane” – and while this depends on the comprehension of the reader, the use of a proper noun (as Chris noticed) along with the spelling, gives the reader the knowledge that Chris says is missing. There aren’t that many ways of spelling the word, and each spelling is specific to its use, as with most similar sounding words. It’s not that difficult to figure out that it’s a weathervane that it being talked about here. After the next sentence, it’s even more obvious:

A century old, it squatted on the point of an old pike that had been bolted to the outer top of the Hold’s wall.

Yet still, Chris asks:

CW: “Wait – it’s just an item someone has stuck on the top of a pike?”

‘Monstrous and misshapen, it had been cold-hammered into the form of a winged demon, teeth bared in a leering grin, and was tugged and buffeted in squealing protest with every gust of wind.

CW: “It’s just a weather vane? Why does it have a formal title? Also, is this weather vane so important that it’s worth spending the whole opening paragraph on? While it adds some atmosphere, it would be more effective to spend fewer words on the vane and more on painting a picture of what’s around it. In particular, this vane monster could be leering at something.”

So, Erikson used a proper noun to give the vane a formal title. Why does it have a formal title? Well, it’s called Mock’s Vane, which means it belongs somewhere – specifically somewhere with the name Mock. The rust looks like blood seas (the shape of a sea as seen in a map, coloured blood red from people who have died in it) and it’s old (over a century and pock-marked) it’s set on an old spike (pointy metal stick) bolted onto the Hold’s wall. The Hold is also a specific place, because it is capitalised. The reason for giving a formal title to the vane, is also because it is something that people use to identify the location.

If a reader of this prologue looks at the relevant additions at the beginning of the book – the dramatis personae, the maps, the poems, etc, or even the title of the series, or the blurb of the book, they will know that this is the story of a fallen empire, with campaigns (see maps) which infer war, which infers dead people. From ‘empire,’ we can also infer that there are cities and cities usually have castles or places that have “holds” or “keeps” which are usually the strongest part of said structures where people gather in case of a siege or attack. If the reader has not done this, then Erikson, by way of a character tells the reader this in the following paragraphs. Just as he also continues to paint a picture of what is around it.

‘Monstrous and misshapen, it had been cold-hammered into the form of a winged demon, teeth bared in a leering grin, and was tugged and buffeted in squealing protest with every gust of wind.

CW: “The last part of that sentence, starting with “and was tugged” could also use some revision. First, the clause gains no benefit from continuing a sentence that’s already long. Second, its in passive voice, using a form such as “it was tugged” rather than “the wind tugged it.” Passive voice is useful in many circumstances, but it softens the effect, so you need a reason to choose it over active phrasing. Finally, Erikson has described the weather vane as a black, leering monster with blood seas on it. Saying it squeals in protest is breaking the mood a bit.”

Erikson uses passive voice, but the use of the word ‘buffeted’ stops the effect from softening because it implies, as it its intention, that the weathervane is violently battered from side to side by the wind and weather. Erikson has chosen to use passive voice instead of active phrasing because he’s using lyrical imagery to describe the weathervane. Making the vane “squeal” is Erikson choosing to add another sensory experience, rather than just sight. It squeals because it is old and rusted and has moved an awful lot over a century.

Don’t forget, this is just the first paragraph. We are still in the “scene setting” stage here.

‘The winds were contrary the day the columns of smoke rose over the Mouse Quarter of Malaz City. The Vane’s silence announced the sudden falling-off of the sea breeze that came clambering over the ragged walls of Mock’s Hold, then it creaked back into life as the hot, spark-scattered and smoke-filled breath of the Mouse Quarter reached across the city to sweep the promontory’s heights.’

CW: “Continuing his trend of being disorienting, Erikson next mentions a specific quarter of a specific city in passing. That wouldn’t be so bad if Erikson was stating the location of “Mock’s Vane,” but we have no idea where this Mouse Quarter is in relation to where we started. After reading the entire paragraph, we can probably conclude the hold is in the city somewhere. Erikson has some nice description of this wind, but it isn’t worth shoving aside everything the reader actually needs to know.

If you want to open with a small piece of a bigger picture, you need to carefully zoom out or add new items to the scene by describing where they are relative to what you’ve already described. For example, Erikson could say the monstrous vane is leering down from the wall at Mouse Quarter. Don’t mention several things that are somewhere in an undefined space; that makes it difficult to piece a picture together.“

The paragraph stated that the breeze clambered over the walls of the Hold (Mock’s Hold) and then the smoke followed when the weathervane indicated a change of wind direction. This infers that it is close to where we started seeing as how the weathervane is attached to said Hold. Also, why would Erikson say that the vane was leering down from the wall at Mouse Quarter when the reader already knows that Mock’s Vane is squatting (precariously – it’s got an old bolt) on top of a pike that is attached to Mock’s Hold? We are given this information so that we can picture it. If the vane was leering, the author would have told us that it was leering.

It is inferred by Chris that in any writing, unless the reader is told where everything is in relation to everything else they’ll never figure out how to piece the picture together, so it’s better, as a writer, to add items to scenes by describing where they are relative to what has already been described. Again, I appreciate that some readers may struggle with lyrical imagery, but this assumption is unfounded.

The next paragraphs introduce us to our first character.

‘Ganoes Stabro Paran of the House Paran stood on tiptoe to see over the merlon. Behind him rose Mock’s Hold, once capital of the Empire but now, since the mainland had been conquered, relegated once more to a Fist’s holding. To his left rose the pike and its wayward trophy.

CW: “We have a character, and we actually know where he is in relation to our preeminent weather vane! I had to look up what a merlon is; I believe it’s the classic jagged railing of a fortified castle wall. Ganoes is on tiptoe, so maybe he’s short? How tall is a merlon anyway? Declaring Mock’s Hold is a “Fist’s holding” is also not helpful because I don’t know what that means, and Erikson is not providing the context to figure it out.”

Again, the context is provided in the next paragraphs. Continuously taking things out of context will cause confusion, and Chris’s responses are such because of the misrepresentation of the text. Chris’s questions are clearly answered in the following paragraph, yet this is not acknowledged.

For Ganoes, the ancient fortification overlooking the city was too familiar to be of interest. This visit was his third in as many years; he’d long ago explored the courtyard with its heaved cobblestones, the Old Keep – now a stable, its upper floor home to pigeons and swallows and bats – and the citadel where even now his father negotiated the island export tithe with the harbour officials. In the last instance, of course, a goodly portion was out of bounds, even for a son of a noble house; for it was in the citadel that the Fist had his residence, and in the inner chambers that such affairs of the Empire as concerned this island were conducted.

CW: “That’s only three sentences. Erikson is definitely one of those writers who makes his sentences too long in an effort to stuff in as much information as he can get away with. In this case, he’s stuffing in unnecessary world exposition.Erikson gave us a whole paragraph about some weather vane and another mostly focused on the wind. If he wanted to describe the hold, that would have been a great time to do it – not after he’s introduced a character that has no interest in the hold and is looking away from it. Don’t get me wrong, this is omniscient narration, so it’s not messing up the viewpoint. But if the only character present thinks the hold is boring, that tells readers they have nothing to be excited about.”

Mock’s Hold forgotten behind him, Ganoes’ attention was on the tattered city below, and the riots that ran through its poorest quarter. Mock’s Hold stood atop a cliff. The higher land of the pinnacle was reached by a switchback staircase carved into the limestone of the cliff wall. The drop to the city below was eighty armspans or more, with the Hold’s battered wall adding another six.

CW: “Erikson, why couldn’t you tell us this earlier? We now have a much clearer picture of a weather vane on a tall wall on a clifftop, overlooking the city. We also know the Mouse Quarter is the poorest quarter. The name is even somewhat intuitive.”

Everything that the reader needs to know has been said. The criticisms are no longer relevant after this point. Erikson didn’t need to tell us this information earlier, because we didn’t need it. The information is produced as and when the reader needs to know and as the author moves through the scene. The “it’s disorientating because the reader doesn’t know where X is in relation to Y” argument doesn’t work anymore because the reader is given the information in due time. However, Chris then picks up on more issues after this next paragraph.

The Mouse was at the city’s inland edge, an uneven spreading of hovels and overgrown tiers cut in half by the silt-heavy river that crawled towards the harbour. With most of Malaz City between Ganoes’ position and the riots, it was hard to make out any detail, beyond the growing pillars of black smoke.

CW: “Telling readers that this quarter is on the inland edge is not helpful, because we don’t know whether the hold is on the inland side or ocean side of the city. For me, it also meant adding a big ocean to the picture for the first time, which was itself disorienting. Erikson has dropped hints that this is a coastal city. He mentioned a sea breeze in his wind paragraph and referred to the area as an island in his hold paragraph. But there are two reasons that wasn’t enough.

1. He’s drowning his readers in disorienting details. This is where the basic principle of cognitive load or comprehension scarcity comes into play. people can only absorb so much information at a time. I’m not going to notice a sea breeze when I’m trying to figure out what the Mouse Quarter is.

2. He’s only mentioned it indirectly or in passing. The manner in which you give readers information really does matter. When you refer to something in passing, it signals to readers that the information isn’t important, and therefore that they don’t need to pay much attention to it or remember it.“

Now, I kind of understand this, because all of the points made make sense, but, as Chris said, Erikson drops hints – the fact that they then go on to say the hints are not enough is simply untrue, because Chris noticed them! Again, Chris makes assumptions about reader comprehension levels, and if we were six chapters in and the writing was extremely complicated, I could possibly support that argument – but it’s been six paragraphs! Six! Still, I think that’s a wildly unfair assumption about readership in general. The things that were “mentioned in passing” were used as descriptors in visual imagery. This response from Chris makes me think that she’s specifically thinking about readers who do not have an affinity for lyrical style, because otherwise this doesn’t make sense, but there’s no confirmation or denial of that in the article.

What follows is how Chris ends this section which, just to remind you, was titled ‘Watch for Disorientation in Your Opening Paragraphs‘ –  let’s not forget that this is a critical analysis illustrating what you shouldn’t do if you’re a writer seeking to get published. The list below is originally bullet-pointed, but for clarity of my responses, I’ve numbered them.

CW: “I’ve been focusing on the disorientation in this opening because without fixing that, it’s hard to do anything else. But after six meaty paragraphs, it’s worth taking a step back to see if this opening has accomplished anything.

1. We know very little about the only character, Ganoes. There’s nothing interesting about him.
2. Ganoes is doing nothing but standing on a wall looking at the city.
3. The city and world so far have no novelty. It’s just a generic fantasy city.
4. Most of the text is dull exposition that is not particularly relevant to the scene at hand
5. I guess there’s a riot somewhere across the city, involving people who we don’t know, resulting in no significant consequences to speak of.

Even if the disorientation were taken care of, this would not be a good opening. So far, posturing seems to be the only thing The Malazan Book of the Fallen has.”

It was midday, but the flash and thundering concussion of magery made the air seem dark and heavy.

CW: “There’s magic! Flashy and noisy magic. At least that’s clear.“

Again, the tone of the article shifts from objective and informative, to subjective, and Chris seems to have not taken in any of the information from the six paragraphs that she has read and deconstructed so far.

So let me step back and see if this opening has accomplished anything. Bear in mind that there have only been six paragraphs to this point.

1: Ganoes has only just been introduced. We’re six paragraphs in. We know that Ganoes is from a ‘noble’ house and is visiting the city with his father, who is there negotiating export costs with the harbour officials, as he has done before at least three times in the last three years, because that’s how many times Ganoes has visited the old capital. We also know that Ganoes pretty much has a free reign there, given the things he has previously discovered. There are, of course, places that he cannot access – that are out of bounds to him even though he has ‘noble’ status.

2 & 3: Ganoes is not interested in the Hold as he usually would be because there is something else capturing his attention in the city. This does not mean that Ganoes finds the Hold boring, it just isn’t what he’s focusing on this time. The city is described as tattered, and the fact he is watching the riots that are happening below show that this is not a normal occurrence. The reader knows that the city is far below because we are told that Mock’s Hold is on a cliff and the drop to the city from that cliff is some 80/86 arm spans (around 400/450 feet, which research shows is standard.) We also know that the city is between Ganoes and the riots in the quarter – and that the fact that there are riots means that this isn’t a standard generic fantasy city – something is happening here.

4 & 5: Erikson has painted a clear picture of Mock’s Hold, which has a weathervane on it – Mock’s Vane – and the surrounding scenery by showing the reader Ganoes’ experiences with the Old Keep – so we know that the Hold is in a state of disrepair, but also that it wasn’t always like that. We are made aware that there are riots in Mouse Quarter, which we now know is the poorest quarter in the city. In real-life, riots are started and continued by people; therefore, we can ascertain that the people in the riots are the people of Mouse Quarter. We know that there is smoke and fire, because Ganoes can’t make out details of what happening because the smoke is affecting his view. As a general point, we also know, or should, that where there’s smoke there’s fire (usually) and that fire is bad and dangerous.

This is not dull exposition – this is Erikson building the scene for the reader in a descriptive and engaging way. In fact, he even writes it in a relatively straight forward and orderly structure:

1) defining feature of the landmark with imagery
2) showing locations close to the structure with imagery
3) a character introduction and their position/location in the structure
4) character experiences at the structure including memories from the past
5) character witnessing what is happening in the present described with imagery
6) character location in relation to the dangerous scenario that he is watching, complete with imagery.

Also, Erikson provides a time frame for the events, using the dates at the opening of the prologue – it is the year the emperor was killed – so the reader can rightfully assume that it is likely that the events in the city are connected to this.

Look how much is there! It’s chock-full of relevant information for the reader!

CW: “There’s magic! Flashy and noisy magic. At least that’s clear.“

Yes, let’s not forget the flashy, noisy magic. While this may be an unexpected way to introduce the idea of magic to the book, it is still an introduction that magic is something to be aware of. That the mention of it includes imagery of a dark, heavy atmosphere gives the reader an expectation of what is to come where magic is involved.

CW: “I’ve been focusing on the disorientation in this opening because without fixing that, it’s hard to do anything else” and “Even if the disorientation were taken care of, this would not be a good opening.”

I think that the argument regarding disorientation could be skewed by personal preference. The objectivity of the article, or lack thereof, is one of the reasons that some of the presented arguments fall flat.

We’re about halfway through the original article and it’s becoming clearer that Chris is not finding anything positive or interesting about the prologue. At this point, it feels like she has already made up her mind that this is an extremely badly written prologue/book.

Most fans of the book and series probably viewed this article as “shit-posting” when it was originally published. However, it is a “lesson” post, a “teaching” post, and as I’ve said before, it’s apparent that many readers do have problems engaging with the text. Had the tone of the article remained objective throughout, I believe that this would have resulted in less negative feedback and comments (not none-at-all, die-hard fans are, after all, die-hard fans.)

However, I have to re-iterate that as a critical “teaching” analysis, Chris should have provided an objective, rather than a subjective opinion on the text presented and the latter is beginning to take over.

That is not to say that Chris is not entitled to her opinion – she most assuredly is – it’s just that in the context of the “lesson” it shouldn’t be the presented argument, which in this case, it is.

Arguments presented as one thing and being another can unfairly influence potential readers.

Next up: Scenes Should Highlight the Action