Saturday, 26 October 2013

Night Watch by Linda Fairstein

Bones.

Melodrama. One word sentences offer little except the melodramatic and are highly sought after and showcased in prepubescent poetry.

Human bones the length of a man's thigh. I stopped short at the sight of more than a dozen of them stacked like a cord of firewood just steps in front of me.

A cord of firewood is not equal to a dozen bones. An image is created in the reader's mind of stacks of bones, four feet high by four feet deep by eight feet long, when in fact there are only a dozen, so the writer successfully plants a mixed image, confusing the reader, exaggerating the scene to hook falsely. Other than that, a problem is successfully introduced. Finding bones means there is a mystery.

First thing said:

"It's some kind of sick joke..."

Let's hope not or where will this story go?

Verdict: Pass (barely)

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

No comments:

Post a Comment