I Wrote A Novel In 24 Hours*: Please Critique

Wrote A Novel In 24 Hours*: Please Critique
*I lied

One breath did halt, another did commence.
Mae hi wedi'i hanffurfio, says the midwife.
Bereft of words, Arawn gazed upon that which laid bent before him. One may assume he would be joyous, yet he – like it - seemed strangely distorted. The neck awry, legs slender as willow, feet askew. A knotted ridge in place of a spine protruded as Arawn endeavoured to cradle some comfort. No ease nor solace could be found in either of them at his usually precious moment. The wail was not that of a child's lament, but a cry of acute agony.
Ni fydd hi'n goroesi'r gaeaf, sighing. The harshest part of the year was already upon them. Their supplies meagre. With one less mouth to feed-the bairn, too young for solid sustenance-there might be a slight easing, Arawn thought. His beloved ate very little, but even that small amount could only extend their provisions for perhaps another fortnight, maybe a stretch longer.
The soil was already depleted. Whatever could be saved had been saved; the rest lost to blight.
Bydd angen nyrs wlyb arnat.
Lle alla i gael un?
Gallaf holi yn y pentref, efallai bod rhywun ar gael.
Murmuring 'diolch' to himself. There was no time to find a wet nurse for the baby. If, as he expected, the child was not to survive the winter, what purpose would it serve to seek one? Arawn saw how tender flesh barely contained her frail bones. What was to be done on the morrow? A reductive question to ask, it was already here; cast with shadow. His wife under a linen shroud, already departed. Labor had taken her; the bloodshed, more than he had ever witnessed unaware that in the future, he would see even more.
*
Arawn stood by the cradle; gently brushed his finger against soft, delicate skin. The tiny fingers curled instinctively around his. His eyes travelled over her tiny body, limbs unnaturally twisted, joints misshapen, each movement cause discomforted, he could only deem her knotted. Contorted in ways appalling. He thought of the near future, one without her: long nights by the fireside, with the scent of spent wood.
Arawn had oft thought about his own passing – he would soon have lost all his family now so it would make sense that his time would be upcoming - he did not know if he believed enough to fathom a hereafter, but he thought it would be… not peaceful, but still. Not that his life would ebb from him, but it would just end. He was not scared of death. It was to come. He knew that. Arawn knew everyone was to experience it, and so in that joint experience we would all share, there was some reality it in, not comfort.
Arawn, clad in black, stepped outside. The remnants of the previous harvest were subtle, juts from the ground like brittle bones. Arawn allowed the bitter breeze to temper his expectation for the coming weather to come. He knew the field needed work. On his way, he walked the length to assess where to plant the hardier grains that could thrive in the still-cool soil of early spring, and how they may replenish his larder. He was thinking too far ahead; ploughing was the first task. The plan was perpetually arduous, waiting the early mornings and late evenings of labour to begin.
The land stretched out, stark, under the slate-grey sky. There was much to be done, and time was a comfort Arawn could ill afford. He tightened his grip on the axe handle, feeling the grain press into his calloused palms. Each swing, each split log, was a step towards another day. Arawn steadfast in his approach. His feet set firmly apart, positioned a log upright on the chopping block. With the air sharp in his lungs, frigid on his skin, he raised the axe until he felt the strain in his shoulders and the familiar tension in his back. The rhythmic thud of axe biting into wood echoed. When Arawn had finished, sunlight feigned through the clouds. He wiped the sweat from his brow, gathered the split logs and secured with rope in a bundle.
As Arawn pushed open the door, arranged the logs in the hearth, layering kindling between them. His hands worked swiftly, until the moment came to strike the flint and steel, he hesitated - Be' yw'r…? - the child was unlikely to see the spring. The room remained cold… the logs lying in readiness... Arawn turned towards the small cradle where she lay, her naked, warped form visible. Exposed, he knew the chilling air would seep into her; a merciless way to enact mercy. Arawn walked away from the hearth and the cradle, allowing a draft in.
The toll of the church bell echoed distantly. Arawn paused at the edge of the barren field glancing back towards the path that led back to his home, where inside - laid unswaddled against the cold- his child. Duty loomed, he could not delay or stop to process. He just needed to do it. Lauds tolled. He needed to arrange the burial of his wife.
Rather than contemplating the field, the work, the season, the harvest again, all of which consumed him, he reflected on his children.

[CharlesHeathcote]

One breath did halt, another did commence.
Dusk had not yet broke.
Mae hi wedi'i hanffurfio, says the midwife.
Bereft of words, Arawn gazed upon that which laid bent before him.

_This beginning reads awkwardly to me; while there is something literary in the quality, we do not know that this is meant to signify to separate people. Therefore, it reads like you’ve just informed us that somebody is breathing, and it isn’t yet the evening. “Bereft of words” also hits the ear weird._

One may assume he would be joyous, yet he – like it - seemed strangely distorted. The neck awry, legs slender as willow, feet askew. A knotted ridge in place of a spine protruded as Arawn endeavoured to cradle some comfort. No ease nor solace could be found in either of them at his usually precious moment. The wail was not that of a child's lament, but a cry of acute agony.

_Here it feels as though you’re being wilfully obtuse, using too many words where a few would do. The reader knows that there is a midwife, but it took me quite a few reads to recognise that we’re supposed to be considering a baby. There’s a sense of detachment from the prose, as though you’re working hard to craft without considering what is actually being said._

Ni fydd hi'n goroesi'r gaeaf, sighing. The harshest part of the year was already upon them. Their supplies meagre. With one less mouth to feed—the bairn, too young for solid sustenance—there might be a slight easing, Arawn thought. His beloved ate very little, but even that small amount could only extend their provisions for perhaps another fortnight, maybe a stretch longer.

_I appreciate that we’re learning more about the time of year here, and Arawn’s worries. Are you trying to get your reader to gain some sense of attachment to the protagonist?_

The soil was already depleted. Whatever could be saved had been saved; the rest lost to blight.
Bydd angen nyrs wlyb arnat.
Lle alla i gael un?
Gallaf holi yn y pentref, efallai bod rhywun ar gael.
Murmuring ‘diolch’ to himself. There was no time to find a wet nurse for the baby. If, as he expected, the child was not to survive the winter, what purpose would it serve to seek one? Arawn saw how tender flesh barely contained her frail bones. What was to be done on the morrow? A reductive question to ask, it was already here; cast with shadow. His wife under a linen shroud, already departed. Labor had taken her; the bloodshed, more than he had ever witnessed unaware
that in the future, he would see even more.

_This last paragraph emphasises where you’re being unnecessarily wordy. (I know, I can talk, I’m regularly grandiloquent) Take the third sentence, for example, “If, as he expected, the child was not to survive the winter, what purpose would it serve to seek one?” is essentially “He did not expect the child to survive the winter, why bother finding one?”_

*

Arawn stood by the cradle; gently brushed his finger against soft, delicate skin. The tiny fingers curled instinctively around his. His eyes travelled over her tiny body, limbs unnaturally twisted, joints misshapen, each movement cause discomforted, he could only deem her knotted. Contorted in ways appalling. He thought of the near future, one without her: long nights by the fireside, with the scent of spent wood.

Arawn had oft thought about his own passing – he would soon have lost all his family now so it would make sense that his time would be upcoming - he did not know if he believed enough to fathom a hereafter, but he thought it would be… not peaceful, but still. Not that his life would ebb from him, but it would just end. He was not scared of death. It was to come. He knew that. Arawn knew everyone was to experience it, and so in that joint experience we would all share, there was some reality it in, not comfort.

_I like the first paragraph in this section, even if the image seems overused, the twist of the child’s deformity adds a sense of further cruelty to the tale. The second paragraph made my head hurt. It’s good for the reader to learn more about what’s going on inside Arawn’s head, but it feels like a lot to have it thrust at us here._

_Have you considered beginning the book with the line: Arawn did not know if he believed in a hereafter – or something along those lines, then enter the loss of his loved one, the situation with the child. I also agree with another commenter who says that we don’t have a sense of place with which to ground ourselves yet._

_I don’t think we need a full description of the homestead, but just an idea of where we are._

Arawn, clad in black, stepped outside. The remnants of the previous harvest were subtle, juts from the ground like brittle bones. Arawn allowed the bitter breeze to temper his expectation for the coming weather to come. He knew the field needed work. On his way, he walked the length to assess where to plant the hardier grains that could thrive in the still-cool soil of early spring, and how they may replenish his larder. He was thinking too far ahead; ploughing was the first task. The plan was perpetually arduous, waiting the early mornings and late evenings of labour to begin.

The land stretched out, stark, under the slate-grey sky. There was much to be done, and time was a comfort Arawn could ill afford. He tightened his grip on the axe handle, feeling the grain press into his calloused palms. Each swing, each split log, was a step towards another day. Arawn steadfast in his approach. His feet set firmly apart, positioned a log upright on the chopping block. With the air sharp in his lungs, frigid on his skin, he raised the axe until he felt the strain in his shoulders and the familiar tension in his back. The rhythmic thud of axe biting into wood echoed. When Arawn had finished, sunlight feigned through the clouds. He wiped the sweat from his brow, gathered the split logs and secured with rope in a bundle.

_Any chance of shorter paragraphs too? There’s a lot going on in your paragraphs, but you also seem to spend a lot of time explaining things that really don’t need to be explained. Nine lines just to explain that someone is chopping wood._

As Arawn pushed open the door, arranged the logs in the hearth, layering kindling between them. His hands worked swiftly, until the moment came to strike the flint and steel, he hesitated - Be’ yw'r…? - the child was unlikely to see the spring. The room remained cold… the logs lying in readiness... Arawn turned towards the small cradle where she lay, her naked, warped form visible. Exposed, he knew the chilling air would seep into her; a merciless way to enact mercy. Arawn walked away from the hearth and the cradle, allowing a draft in. –_should this be draught?_

The toll of the church bell echoed distantly. Arawn paused at the edge of the barren field glancing back towards the path that led back to his home, where inside - laid unswaddled against the cold— his child. Duty loomed, he could not delay or stop to process. He just needed to do it. Lauds tolled. He needed to arrange the burial of his wife.

Rather than contemplating the field, the work, the season, the harvest again, all of which consumed him, he reflected on his children.

_Honestly, this is a difficult one to critique because it feels like I don’t know anything about_ the character yet. To me, it feels like there is a level of detachment in the prose where I’m reading carefully put together words, but I can’t find the heart behind all of that work. Sometimes it’s nice to be slow, meandering and thoughtful – some folk love those kinds of books – I think it’s just that you went into more depth about him chopping a log than the death of his wife. Perhaps there was some authorial intent there that I didn’t gauge and if so, I apologise._

_In terms of the Welsh language dialogue. Although I’ve not a hope in heck of understanding what is being written, I do think some context clues could be appreciated. At the moment – given my opinion of everything else I read – it felt like this entire work wasn’t being written to be understood but was being written for the author to show off and to keep their reader at an arm’s length._

_Since this is only a very short excerpt from the beginning of a book, I find it difficult to give any further critique. I wouldn’t ever wish to discourage anyone from writing, and I always like to encourage folk to be passionate about stuff that brings them passion. Therefore, feel free to take everything I say with a grain of salt, though I hope it has been of some help._

[UltimateKyuubiFox]

I found it engaging and didn’t stop reading, which is good. The one thing I will say is you have the tendency to use words in ways that go beyond their intended purpose, to the degree it makes the reader question if you know that and are being purposeful or are ignorant to their intended function. This is mostly in your using nouns and adjectives in the place of verbs—and vise versa. Attempting to ‘cradle some comfort” sounds flowery, but confusing to the ear, as it doesn’t include the subject of the cradling. It sounds like the comfort is what’s being cradled, not the baby—or even the father, if it was meant to elicit a double meaning.

“Each movement cause discomforted.” This makes me think “Did he mean ‘Each movement caused discomfort’? Or perhaps ‘Each movement’s cause were discomfort’?” Because I ask both these questions, my reading ends up as neither, and so I fail to understand the sentence and assume it was a typo.

There are ways to be short with sentences without making their meaning confusing. Even just adding an apostrophe to ‘movements’, “Each movement’s cause discomforted” would fix the issue. There are other examples of this. In one case, you write ‘As Arawn pushed open the door, arranged the logs in the hearth, layering kindling between them.” I can’t tell if this was a sentence that was meant to keep going but you ended it with a full-stop too early, but even that wouldn’t work. ‘As’ implies that at the very same time he’s opening the door, he’s putting logs in the hearth and layering kindling between them, which he can’t physically do. He’d have to finish opening the door. At some point in the sentence, you have to write a change, signify the sequential nature of it, not have it be simultaneous. It’s all these little spots in the writing that make the reader pause and squint. We can go on to forgive them and keep reading, but they aren’t supported by any natural rules that help us make any sense of them, and I would recommend changing them.

[lyndseyperrott]

Arawn is such a great name, it’s a delight to read more Welsh. Enjoying the storyline x

[CharlieBrookReads]

I know it needs to be tightened up because you said that but I feel like your imagery is strong and I would be interested to read it. It’s so exciting that you are doing this Kieran ❤

[PQ_]

One quick note because it really stuck out to me. you start way too many sentences with 'Arawn' so play around with those sentence structures.

[BookishAdventuresInWellbeing]

Oooh exciting stuff! The first couple of sentences don’t quite land but I see what you’re going for, just maybe needs some tweaking. The woodcutting scene is 😘👌. Absolutely stoked to read the end result when it’s ready. Big balls for putting this out there too 👏

[MuslimFictionProject]

Hi Kieran, I sent an email with critique on the opening of the novel. Just commenting here in case it slipped through the cracks.

S. H. Miah

[pepebruh]

Have you got an outline finished? What draft are you on? Have you finished the draft? The writing in the description can benefit from two things: 1. Substitute Arawn's name for 'he' at least half of the time so it eliminates the repetitiveness of mentioning his name. 2. Reordering the events so that the you mention the death of his wife on the first line because it's like the anchor of the story, the reader will ask: 'why is she dead?' as opposed to 'what's happening here?' for a whole paragraph.

[sebastianromero]

I think the feeling i have while reading this is alienated, as if you dont want me to penetrate the scene.

1. i would start with the word choices. Of course the welsh doesnt help but its not only that… it’s also the way you describe things, the abstract nature of the vocabulary. Many words here mean very little visually, which means the scene is lacking things for me to grasp onto. Don’t be afraid to use simpler language every once in a while. There’s also an obvious verboseness/wordiness here that makes the scene clunky. I would argue this is even present in the first line, where the “did” separates from a cleaner “halted/comenced.” These small decisions add to a sense of distance, even gramatically, as if you’re almost close to the meaning but not quite
2. just so you know where i’m coming from, I tend to see experiments as gimmicks until proven otherwise, so the Welsh felt a bit gimmicky. Like the IDEA of the thing is interesting, something you could easily explain away in an interview or whatever, but is it unachievable through other means? (I.e. when i read tolstoy, his characters speak in multiple languages, but he can simply say “he said in English” or “he said in Russian” etc… like when i read translations i know they’re not speaking in English… is something inherently lost here? I would argue perhaps not much). And if achievable through other means, would the alienation this cause be worth it? There is no right or wrong answer here just something to consider… on the business side, also consider if you want to publish a novel & if so would many agents/publishers be interested in publishing a text in two languages? As someone who’s mexican but who writes in english, i will tell you from experience its not easy finding agents who wont tell you to simply change most of the text to english or translate it after the welsh itself. Indirect dialogue could also be useful here. Something like “they spoke about the harshness of winter…” or “the midwife told him his wife had not made it. Alas, not everyone is cormac mccarthy, at least not in the first book. I’m of course not saying welsh, just maybe a mix…. On the other hand, i do think that for the people who think this works i think it couls REALLY work. So who knows?
3. I’m not always in favor of show dont tell BUT i think a clarity in the images could work. Also, more immediacy. For example, i believe most problems can be found in the following lines “Bereft of words, Arawn gazed upon that which laid bent before him. One may assume he would be joyous, yet he – like it - seemed strangely distorted.” The first clause of the first sentence is telling but I dont mind it. Its in the second clause that i find the problem. Again, i feel alienated from the immediacy of the scene. Describe what he sees dont tell me he saw what laid before him. Its implied that whqtever he were to describe, it would already be laid before him. Then the second sentence. Immeadiately im expdcting to get a description but you dont do that. You say “One may assume?” Do you know what the reader assumes? Are you going to carry this opinionated voice throughout the rest of the novel? No issue if so but something to be conscious of because that’s what I’ll be expecting from now on. “Like it” this again takes me out, and not in an engaging way. What is “it”? Why not say? Its as if you’re intentionally trying to make the writing hard to get into. And how does he know he himself looks distorted? He says “he—like it—“ but whose perspective is this? You could say its omniscient but in the line before you’re telling me he’s about to describe what is before him, so I as a reader am assuming a closeness to his perspective here, so it takes me out. And again the word choices: joyous? Happy is good enough. Strangely distorted? Distortion IS strange, it feels tautological. And no i’m not saying using joyous instead of happy once or twice will create distance, but the accumulation of all these choices do add up…

[markhnk]

I like the tone, the harshness, and the simplicity of this world. The language feels a bit intentionally archaic and old-style omniscient. For some reason, I feel like this is going to be a short novel or a novella; it has this condensed feel to it.

I was a bit confused about time, how much of a time jump "Arawn stood by the cradle" is because the wife was not mentioned again. Him grieving her loss made me think it was a longer span of maybe weeks or even months, but then I was obviously wrong because he still needs to bury her.

The thing with the Welsh dialogue: I like the boldness and the experimental touch, and if you can make this work, that's great. However, I think what is different here compared to other works that use a foreign language (and it will be foreign to most of your readers) is that all your characters, at least until you get to the parts where they try to communicate with the outside world, understand that language. So it's a bit of a POV problem. Your characters know things your readers won't, and that's a very unfortunate and frustrating situation for the reader. So I think you need some kind of additional twist or spin to make it work. I think that's why you have this additional outsider POV in many of these kinds of novels (The Colony, Clear etc.)

Also, I'm not exactly sure yet, but that's not necessarily a problem, about the motivation and psychology of the protagonist. He cares a lot for his daughter, but he has this pessimistic outlook (will not survive the winter anyway, thinking of evenings by the fireside without her - especially the latter is a weird thought when the baby is just a few days old), and there are some hints at more bloodshed in the future. So both the omniscient narrator and the protagonist paint everything in black. This is a subjective preference, but I would love a closer 3rd person instead of the omniscient to understand the protagonist better.

[fat_man]

I read the description before completing the video

I think that adding Welsh dialog is great but i would appreciate it if you could add to whom Arawn was speak to at the part when he was asked about "where will he arawn get a wet nurse ", the other part is about forshadowing the bloodshed arawn will witness in the future in this part " the bloodshed, more than he had ever witnessed unaware that in the future, he would see even more" i don't know but maybe i kinda see it being way too early if this is the introduction


but i think it's a really good introduction where lone Arawn is conflicted about his own fate and the survival of hia child and grieving because of his wife death, a really rich intro that i hope to see the end of it

[georgepantzikis]

The choice to make all dialogue in Welsh is very bold – though not completely outlandish, even some classics employ similar bilingualism (War and Peace, The Magic Mountain, For whom the Bells Toll to a degree), but I don’t know of any book where the second language is so extensively used as to make the text literally unreadable for non-speakers without a dictionary – so, as with any radical move, the effect needs to be very well done, otherwise it risks becoming a gimmick. Naturally, with the narration being in English and the dialogue in Welsh, to anyone familiar with Welsh history, the subtext of decolonialism arises. The book will essentially be split into two parts: the English, which is the familiar one for most people, and the more difficult Welsh part. This is an opportunity to educe a rarely examined dichotomy in literature. The difference between how a world is presented by the narration and how it is actually experienced by the characters. I would like to see in a novel like this a kind of unreliable narration, where the unreliability comes from the narrative itself undermining the character’s speech. I don’t know how experimental you want to get with it, but there could even be direct conflict between the two. Characters could directly address the narrative. Really, this linguistic split lends itself to a story about how a people’s history is written for them by an outsider, and how, though they may try to tell their own story, it cannot be properly understood by the reader because there is always a block, a resistance born of a fundamentally wrong perspective. “This book should have been in Welsh.” you seem to be saying, “But tragically it cannot be”.

One breath did halt, another did commence. Dusk had not yet broke.

_Good opening line. Starting with breathing offers a good sensory description. It also introduces the theme of a cyclical theory of time, where one cycle leads to another. Dusk has not come yet, so the new cycle (new day) has not quite begun._

Mae hi wedi'i hanffurfio, says the midwife.

_There is no distinction between the dialogue and the rest of the prose. No quotation marks and no line break. This has the effect of blurring the inner/outer distinction and making the prose seem almost stream-of-consciousness. It perhaps undermines the distinction between the two languages, but maybe you don’t want the distinction to be as jarring._

Bereft of words, Arawn gazed upon that which laid bent before him. One may assume he would be joyous, yet he – like it - seemed strangely distorted. The neck awry, legs slender as willow, feet askew. A knotted ridge in place of a spine protruded as Arawn endeavoured to cradle some comfort. No ease nor solace could be found in either of them at his usually precious moment.

_This part is quite awkwardly written. Maybe you meant for it to reflect the distortion of the child, but it doesn’t work. Try experimenting with unique sentence structure for that effect instead of what you’re doing here. “Bereft of words” adds nothing – we know he is not speaking –, it goes against the pointillistic style, and makes the whole sentence feel front-heavy. You want to say that he looked at the child. I’m not sure what it means to look at a child with ‘bereft of words’ as a qualifier. “upon that which laid bent before him” is also pretty clunky. “One would assume he would be joyous” is suddenly distant, removed from the scene, almost academic. It breaks the mood. “protruded as Arawn endeavoured to cradle some comfort” is a mixed bag. “cradle some comfort” is a nice turn of phrase, though “protruded as Arawn endeavoured” is a little weird sounding. The last sentence is not very good. This part is already mostly telling and no showing, and the part that wraps it up is explanation with no description. Also, the meaning of “his usually precious moment” is a bit vague. Does he have many kids already such that he compares how he feels after holding each one? And who’s precious moment is it? Is it becoming a father or being born?_

The wail was not that of a child's lament, but a cry of acute agony.

_I think you’re trying to convey that the child wasn’t crying because all children cry when they’re born, but because it is in pain. However, the phrase “child’s lament” and “acute agony” both suggest pain and not healthy crying at birth. Maybe try rewording?_

Ni fydd hi'n goroesi'r gaeaf, sighing. The harshest part of the year was already upon them. Their supplies meagre. With one less mouth to feed—the bairn, too young for solid sustenance—there might be a slight easing, Arawn thought. His beloved ate very little, but even that small amount could only extend their provisions for perhaps another fortnight, maybe a stretch longer. The soil was already depleted. Whatever could be saved had been saved; the rest lost to blight.

_There is way too much information dumping. The background information we are given does not help in building characterisation nor explaining the current situation better. It would be better if you say it through the dialogue or spread each bit of information out throughout multiple paragraphs._

Bydd angen nyrs wlyb arnat. Lle alla i gael un? Gallaf holi yn y pentref, efallai bod rhywun ar gael. Murmuring ‘diolch’ to himself. There was no time to find a wet nurse for the baby. If, as he expected, the child was not to survive the winter, what purpose would it serve to seek one?

_This gives information about Arawn’s personality. He is a pragmatist, with almost no regard for even the life of his child if he thinks it is not useful. It would be better if he said that instead of you telling us his thoughts though._

Arawn saw how tender flesh barely contained her frail bones.

_To quote Chekhov “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass”. Don’t write what Arawn concludes or understand from what he sees. Write what he actually sees, only write in such a way that we conclude as Arawn does. That way, we get inside the character’s head, the prose is more engaging, and the writing is interesting. Prose becomes interesting through particulars. The flesh barely able to support the bones is a generality. Her skin creasing over the bent flesh beneath, like taught leather gripped by an exhausted hand is a particular._

What was to be done on the morrow? A reductive question to ask, it was already here; cast with shadow. His wife under a linen shroud, already departed. Labor had taken her; the bloodshed, more than he had ever witnessed unaware that in the future, he would see even more.

_Again, this is tonally confused. “What was to be done on the morrow” is severe. “A reductive question to ask, it was already here; cast with shadow” is aloof, light. I don’t really get why there is a direct premonition of things to come. So far this book has had a very involved narrative style that follows events as they happen. The dialogue being integrated with the narrative also lends this quality by not separating the narrator from the characters. This suddenly introduces an omniscient narrator who not only knows things the characters don’t but also seems to already know the whole story._

Arawn stood by the cradle; gently brushed his finger against soft, delicate skin.

_There are many adverbs in your writing. This is fine for more ornate styles, but in your case it doesn’t go very well with a pointillistic style. Try to use better suited verbs instead. Instead of “gently brushed”, why not “caressed”?_

The tiny fingers curled instinctively around his. His eyes travelled over her tiny body, limbs unnaturally twisted, joints misshapen, each movement cause discomforted, he could only deem her knotted. Contorted in ways appalling. He thought of the near future, one without her: long nights by the fireside, with the scent of spent wood. Arawn had oft thought about his own passing – he would soon have lost all his family now so it would make sense that his time would be upcoming - he did not know if he believed enough to fathom a hereafter, but he thought it would be… not peaceful, but still.

_This has the potential to be a profound/interesting passage, but the way it written is way to brisk and does not enter the psychology of the character enough to have an impact._

Not that his life would ebb from him, but it would just end.

_I’m not sure if this is technically a grammatical mistake, but the word ‘but’ doesn’t fit there. Better to use a semicolon or a full stop._

He was not scared of death. It was to come. He knew that. Arawn knew everyone was to experience it, and so in that joint experience we would all share, there was some reality it in, not comfort.

_So far, a child has been born with life threatening disfigurement, a man has lost his wife, and he has contemplated death. All of that in around 400 words and told through surface level general descriptions. The writing needs more meat. The rest of the passage suffers from the same problem, so I won’t write individual comments about it._

_In general, the scenario is interesting. It could make for a very good story, and the character of Arawn could be a good ‘nothing left to lose’ kind of guy. However, the quality of prose is letting what is an otherwise promising idea down. It is too tepid. What you have written is what your writing is supposed to express, but it is not what the writing itself is supposed to be. You are writing in a very modernist style. ‘Show don’t tell’ is a staple of modernist prose – as much of a cliché as it may be – and this work would definitely benefit from it. If in doubt, refer to that Chekhov quote. With a good deal of work, this can be a good debut, but it is not there yet._

[futurestoryteller]

When you say "all" the dialogue is in Welsh, I don't know if you mean this passage or your whole novel. Sounds like the book you mentioned where a Welsh speaker couldn't properly communicate with an English speaker over the phone had a very specific intention behind it.

I don't know if it's a good idea to use an idea disconnected from its purpose. It seems like you're intentionally distancing anyone who isn't Welsh - or speaks Welsh, from your main characters. Which I guess is fine if you want most people to put it down.

[eni]

Love that the dialogue is in Welsh. I know this is probably not your intention but it would be a great tool as a learner to figure out the words by the context. Maybe I will leave a critique but I'm usually not one to do that so maybe not, mae'n ddrwg gyda fi

[davidhillier]

If you're taking cues from Cormac in terms of his inclusion of Spanish (a wild take btw, because his primary audience is American, and their knowledge of Spanish compared to the average non-Welsh person's knowledge of Welsh is IMMEASURABLY GREATER), you should also take cues from his economy of prose. Use less words.

You're basically alienating any audience who isn't Welsh, also. Nobody wants to read a novel where they have to google translate every piece of dialogue.

[sophienewman]

Not a review but a few years ago my neighbours had been living here for 11 years and knocked on my door to call an ambulance as they didnt know the number

[pinkywingphoenix]

❤ follow every video I like all explanation 😊

[BookishTexan]

I think you need to decide whether the language of the narration is going to be rough and simple or modern. There are a few adverbs — instinctively, perpetually (I think was another)— that seemed too modern or adorned. Your character is a simple man in a terrible situation. If we are in his head then that needs to be reflected in the language throughout.

This is also true I think in your description of the misshapen child. I think that your description of the child’s malformation should be consolidated. As it is it felt a bit like you were belaboring the point because you didn’t trust your reader to get it. This repetition maybe a part of the style of the novel and if so and it is maintained throughout ignore what I said.

That said I want to know what happens and more about your character and this child. It is interesting and compelling. You established that your character is a man of compassion and feeling and that is at odds with his practical understanding of his situation.

The Walsh didn’t bother me because I think you used narration to give the reader an idea of the feeling behind what was being said. One problem with this approach, I think, is that it’s hard to use dialogue as a way of showing what is happening and what is being felt which means it has to be told through narration.

I hope to read the whole thing someday.

[eynepss]

This feels like marking your partners mock GCSE English exam😂

[FrankOdonnell-ejhd]

if cormac could get away with it why not u⚛😀❤