Friday, 22 November 2013

Omens by Kelley Armstrong

Eden crawled into the living room, the rough carpet burning her chubby knees and hands.

This is the beginning of another slice of not nice life prologue. Conflict in sentence 1 consists of rough carpet and chubby knees - not a great combo I'd imagine.

As boots slapped the hall floor, she went still, holding her breath.

Another writer experimenting with verbs, stretching meaning just beyond the safe limits of clarity and comprehension. But I do not think it means what you think it means. Boots slapping naughty floors is not so bad, though. Not as bad as burping guns or hobbled cars.

Fortunately, the scene quickly develops into the surreal with monsters.

Chapter 1:

I waited in the shelter drop-in center for my next appointment.

What follows is a description of a place: guilty giggles, voices wafting, bleached toys - you know, the usual things that make up an appointment room. Actually, I prefer this to a paragraph describing the walls. Describing with the nose is novel and much appreciated in today's visual world desperately trying to put the written word in terms of a TV show.

But there is no conflict unless being in an appointment room is gripping tension for you, and I bore easily.

First thing said"


This gets a 2.5 stars based on the prologue which is kind of creepy and surreal. However, it's still a prologue, a cheap rush to make the real opening (chapter 1) go down better.

Verdict: Pass (barely)

Theodore Moracht

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