Young Writers Society

Alright now, you rascal—quiet down and let me tell you a story, okay? Right then.
It was a rough night, dark as shadow and stormy as an angry cat. It was not a good night to be out of bed, much less out of doors. Do you understand what I'm saying? But one man was out that night, and he was at sea. Now if you think it was bad on land, can you imagine what the ocean was like? It was wet and cold and—well, yes, you're right. Smart little whippersnapper. But it was wetter and colder than usual, alright? And it was saltier too. Yes, that does happen. You've never been out at sea during a storm, have you? Well there you have it.
So back to this man, out in the salty, wet ocean. He was a fisherman. The only boat he owned was a small wooden one that he had made himself, and he ordinarily stayed in the bay when he was fishing, because his boat was so small and inadequate that he was afraid a shark might see it and, thinking it was driftwood, carry it off as a chew-toy for junior. Can you imagine the chew-toys a teething shark would need? Think about that one.
Anyhow, this fisherman was fishing that night towards the edge of the bay, when he felt something tug at his line. It was a hard tug. A quick, emphatic tug, you hear? Well, since he was a seasoned fisherman and knew the sea and its creatures back to front and cross-indexed, he was roused by the tug, since it was like no tug he had ever felt. It was hard, yes, and insistent, but delicate too. A sly, dexterous tug.
But when this fisherman of ours started pulling at his line, he realized that his hook must have been stuck. So, he—what's that?
Yes, well I've heard it before too, sonny, and I'm not complaining, am I? Look at it this way: I'm sure I've told this story more times than you've even thought about it, so you needn't whine so. Here, why don't you put both legs under the covers—yes, that's it, but with your head on the pillow (there you go!), and stop wiggling. Alright. That will have to do. Now just hush up and let me tell the story, eh? And be glad it's me telling it tonight, not someone less compassionate.
Well, I've got a very big heart, you see. Bigger than you think. I know what it is to be a young boy and I know that you can get bored easily. See that? That's called compassion. Let me tell you this, squirt: if you can learn anything from your grandfather, it's compassion. Instead of talking on and boring you, I'll skip to the exciting part, even though it means eliminating the most important section of the story. Really, I don't mind not telling my favorite part.
Never mind! I'll cut—compassionately—to the next bit. It was daytime now, and the events which I have so kindly not described ended our hero up on a small island. Not so small that it was hard not to fall off, mind you—but small enough to squeeze easily in the one's brain without kicking anything else out.
Our hero looked around him and saw that his boat was in shambles. Yes, those events which I so kindly did not describe had left it in splinters. The big, soggy kind of splinters that can only be left by that sort of event—the one I left out, that is. No, it's okay; you needn't thank me. The poor fisherman sank to his knees, groaning and weeping and carrying on like fishermen do. Something convinced him that the best thing to do at that moment would be to tear his hair out and moan as though he'd just gotten twenty teeth pulled.
Well, pretty soon he got tired of doing that and he looked up. What did he see there?
That was a rhetorical question, punk, one you weren't supposed to answer. And you're wrong, besides—he didn't just see a man; he saw an old, bedraggled man. Are you sure you've heard this story before?
That was another rhetorical question—you gotta learn from your mistakes, you little pipsqueak.
Anyhow, this old, bedraggled man was just inches away from our fisherman. His clothes were tattered, his hair tangled and his face unshaven and filthy. He just sat there, with a huge, dirty, battered book on his lap. When I say huge, I mean huge. As in tremendous, and gigantic, and humungous and massive and really, quite large. It was almost bigger than he was, and it had too many pages for the binding, so some of them were dangling out at odd angles, attached by a small string—or nothing at all.
The fisherman got to his feet and brushed himself off indignantly. “Why didn't you say anything, if you saw me despairing like I was?” he asked, with a little fishermanly embarrassment.
The old, bedraggled man just stared at him for a moment with huge, round eyes. Then, just as it seemed as though he wasn't going to do anything at all, he bent over his book and began flipping the pages. He flipped with such a frenzy that it was a marvel pages didn't go flying every which way, or get ripped to pieces, or both.
After a several minutes of this, just when the fisherman was ready to fall to his knees and tear at his hair once more, the old, bedraggled man stopped flipping.
“Aha!” said he—the old, bedraggled man, I mean, not the fisherman. “Aha! I have found it.”
He bent in closer to his book and then looked up at the fisherman. “Greetings, stranger,” the old, bedraggled man said at last.
The fisherman, in a bit of a huff, replied sulkily that the old, bedraggled man had taken long enough responding to him.
“Yes,” said the old, bedraggled man, “but only because I—” and then he stopped, clapping an old, bedraggled hand over his old, bedraggled mouth, and started once again to search the book. After several more minutes, by which time the fisherman was almost ready to jump into the ocean with frustration, the old, bedraggled man lifted his face and smiled toothlessly.
“Good day, stranger,” he said.
“Oh, that's all I get?” he asked.
“What do you mean, stranger?” replied the old, bedraggled man.
“You were about to tell me something, but then you got distracted by the book.”
The old, bedraggled man shook his head. “Oh, no, stranger! Not distracted.”
“Then what were you doing?”
The old, bedraggled man opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, and shut it again. The fisherman, having seen many fish do the same thing sighed and had a bit more patience. You know how fishermen are, don't you? If something reminds of them a fish then they get all warm and fuzzy towards it. It's like how Eskimos have seven hundred different words for “snow.”
Finally, the old, bedraggled man opened his mouth and words came out. “What's your name, stranger?”
“Why?” asked the fisherman shrewdly. You see, now that the old, bedraggled man was speaking again, he no longer resembled a fish and as such the fisherman was starting to lose his new-found patience.
“Well, it's just I...” but the old, bedraggled man trailed off.
After much prompting, the fisherman realized that there was something which the old, bedraggled man wanted to say but couldn't. He was, you see, quite cunning for a fisherman. (How he got that way we'll never know, though most likely it's because he ate his turnips when he was your age. Remember that.)
Having picked up on this fact about the old, bedraggled man, the fisherman asked, “would it be easier if you knew my name?”
The old, bedraggled man bent once again over his book and when he sat up again, his eyes lit up and his lips were just about to form the word “yes” when he stopped himself. “Maybe, stranger,” he said instead.
The fisherman was intrigued now. “Okay, than,” said he, “what if you call me friend, rather than stranger?” You see, he didn't like being called stranger but he knew too much about not talking to strangers (I told you he was a wise man, didn't I?) to give out his name to the old, bedraggled man.
“Oh, my friend!” the old, bedraggled man said at once, “I am so glad we aren't strangers anymore! I wonder if now I can...” here he bent low over his book once more and searched it for several moments. “...yes, I can! Would you like to come and have some food with me in my cave?”
The fisherman, still wary, hesitated to accept the invitation. “Why did you have to look in the book in order to ask that?”
“Ah,” said the old, bedraggled man with a smile. “Now that we are friends I can talk to you of these things! You see, the book says that 'matters of import should not be discussed lightly by strangers,' in chapter eighty-six, part three, section nineteen, paragraph...” he bent over his book again, “...seventy. But it says a bit later (in chapter three hundred and ninety-two, part five, section thirty one, paragraph eight-hundred and four) that 'All shall be shared in good spirit between friends.'”
The fisherman nodded scratching his chin. “So it's a book of rules?” he asked.
“Not only rules, my friend, but guides and words of wisdom for any and every possible happening! In this book, one can find happiness. If one lives by this book, and by this book alone, then they will be living the best possible life.”
“Does that life include living on an island all alone?” asked the fisherman, who at this point was starting to get a bit bitter again, and was beginning to wonder about what was to become of him.
“Well, I... I never thought—you know...” the old, bedraggled man stuttered and stammered for a while before bending down once more to look through his book. After a few minutes of watching the old, bedraggled man flip through the pages, the fisherman lost patience.
“Never mind,” he said. “I was only curious, anyhow.”
The old, bedraggled man looked up from the book with a look of relief on his face. “Alright,” he said. “It isn't such an important question anyway, is it? I mean, I follow all of the fundamentals—I make my clothing out of reeds, since the books says to 'mantle thyself in life,' and I eat fish twice a day, because it says 'in the morning, with thy fish, thou shall feel gratitude and in the evening, with thy fish, thou shalt not complain.' The very time I rise from sleep, the way I bathe, the number of minutes that must pass between me picking a fruit and eating it, the posture which I take every other noon—all the ways of my life are as close to how the book teaches as I can make them. What difference would a small detail like the one you suggested make?”
The fisherman hadn't followed this logic, but he wasn't in a mood to argue. You see, he had—as fishermen are so fond of saying—bigger fish to fry. For he had just looked around him once more to be reminded of the ruins of his boat.
And there, he now realized, lay his life—his hopes, his dreams, and everything he had ever known lay strewn across the sand in soggy wooden shards. “What am I to do? O, what am I to do?!” he called out, once again sinking to his knees.
But just as he was once again preparing to tear his hair, he heard something that made him look up: a horn. Oh, how the sound fell upon his ears! If a flock of nightingales had fluttered down just then from heaven and started singing Mozart, it would not have sounded more beautiful to him than that squawking horn did. He turned to see another small fishing boat—not as small as his, mind you, but small enough that he recognized it as one from his village. He waved his arms in the air and jumped around like a crazy person, yowling and crying and calling out. Pretty soon, the people on the boat noticed him and they started coming towards the island.
Excited, he turned towards the old, bedraggled man to see him looking longingly towards the boat.
“Are you going to go back to land?” asked he (the old, bedraggled man, that is).
“Yes, indeed, and how glorious it will be!” replied the fisherman. “And you will come too?”
For a moment, the old, bedraggled man's face lit up, but then he quickly shook his head.
“Why not?” asked the fisherman.
“This isn't the first time I've seen a boat come by,” said the old, bedraggled man wistfully. “In fact, many times they have seen me and offered to take me to land... but I must refuse every time.”
“Why's that?” the fisherman asked again.
“Because, search as I might (and I have, I assure you!) I cannot find a single passage in the book that so much as mentions or alludes this situation.”
“It does not forbid leaving, then?” inquired the fisherman.
“Well, no,” the old, bedraggled man replied, “but it doesn't permit it either, so I must not do it.”
The fisherman, taking pity on his poor companion thought to himself, I think I can find a passage which I could tell him means that he can leave. So he asked if he could take a look at the book. The old, bedraggled man agreed and handed it to the fisherman, just as the boat was approaching the island. Frantically, he opened up the book and began flipping—but then he realized something: the book was empty. Completely and utterly empty. Not a word was on the pages—not a letter, save accidental ones that may have formed here and there by the filth and wear.
“But there are no words!” he said, out loud.
The old, bedraggled man simply nodded. “Not if you don't believe in them,” he replied.
“Well, then,” said the fisherman, quick and smart as always, “why don't you just believe in a passage that tells you that if you find yourself on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean you are allowed to leave it if a boat comes along and offers you a ride?”
And do you know what the old, bedraggled man said?
Eh?
Answer me, runt!
Oh... you're asleep already. That's a shame; I would have liked to finish it all tonight—I did get so close. But then again I suppose it doesn't matter....
You already know this story, don't you?

Good day Azila!

Thanks a lot for the request and for bringing it back to life. Because of that, you deserve this..



First of all, I was quite surprised (in a good way) of how the narrator himself started the story. His tone was surely humorous, a bit cold, and very catchy, that even how he used some languages-or how he use different funny names to call his grandson every time- made the piece entertaining for me. I don't really have much negative things to say except that shouldn't the boy feel a bit offended when his grandfather call him such nicknames? Anyways, I love the irony of the grandfather that he would tell the story compassionately, in which he did exactly the opposite. ha! 83

Let's recount the tale about a fisherman stranded on an island and met this old, bedraggled man. [I have small problem here, I would really like to know how the fisherman got stranded, even though the speaker said that he was going to skip it- oh, but anyways...] It was only the day after the storm where the story really happened- and for the sake of realism of the story- I wished you would've also described the fisherman's fatigue, or even just a bit of showing the scourging heat of the sun. Just so for us-the readers- can imagine a little about the island. It just didn't seem to look like a fantasy bedtime story if itself lack descriptions that can help the readers to picture out about the place.

I like the fisherman because of his clever personality. Although his quite impatient, I think you have managed to bring him very well and realistically all throughout this piece. And even if you left me hanging, I still like how you ended the little boy asleep and the grandfather grunting- it was cute actually. ^^

Grammar wise, I don't think you really need some of my suggestions because you have written this well. Maybe I just wanted to clarify something about your adjectives and adverbs- you might want to slow it down. Although you seemed to write because of an old man's point of view, I think you could still somehow lessen it.

When I say huge, I mean huge. As in tremendous, and gigantic, and humungous and massive and really, quite large.

Like this for example, adjectives seem to flood this area. (this is just me being nitpicky anyways)

Overall, I thank you for the great read. Even though the narrator only reads the story for his grandson, the connection between him and I was so strong that it felt like he was reading to me the story after all!

Hope this review helps and let me know if you have any questions.

Keep writing.

Peace out,
Yuri

P.S Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do think that the narrator is an old man talking to his grandson.

YES.

*Saves myself a reviewing spot*

You didn't end this story, and after typing up half of a review ranting about this fact, I understood the reason behind this. There are a number of things the old man might have said, and any theories I might offer about the missing part will say more about myself than the story. I remember an incident about 3 years ago: I was at a friend's house, partying. At the end of the evening, when everyone was pretty high, I picked up a children's book called "Outside Over There", done by the same dude that did "Where the Wild Things Are". After flipping through it for a few minutes, I looked up and asked my friend: "...is this a religious book?"

As I found out later, the book *did* have some pretty heavy meanings which weren't readily apparent, but none of them were religious. I said that because some of the illustrations showed little robed figures, and instead of thinking they're villains (as they were intended to be), I identified them with religion.

Your story has the potential to do the exact same thing. Depending on what your reader imagines the old man to have said in that one final line you so thoughtfully omit, the entire context changes. If the answer is "but I can't just change what the book says!", we'd get a feeling of insanity here. If he says "Yes, you're right", then this is a book about being able to move on from a situation that is difficult to change. If the man insists "The book doesn't cover that subject, so I have to avoid boats", then we get that religious vibe, perhaps a metaphor for people who take religious texts way too seriously (the bit about him eating fish earlier on plays into this, too). There are many things he could have said, each carrying a different meaning. As such, any reviewer who says this story is "unfinished" (including myself, for Version 1 of this review) is wrong. The story is just setting up a scene for the reader to finish themselves. I'm very surprised that you pulled off such a complex feat, though I really shouldn't be at this point.

My initial review compared parts of this story to my "Sleepidemic". There's a feel of confusion here, mainly because of the format in which you chose to write this story - a kind of a framed narrative. The confusion comes when the frame begins to overshadow the content, just like the quirky tone of Sleepidemic turned what was once a work with a point into a psychedelic dream sequence. Sometimes, the narrator's "conversation" with his grandson gets in the way of what you were trying to say (or, rather, what you were trying to make us say). I think this would best work as a five-paragraph flash fiction.

Yet, despite all this, I can't help a haunting feeling that there was a definite answer to this story. I can't know for a fact what you intended with this work, so all I said above, as goes without saying, is my own speculation. Is there a right answer? As with all works, I know that you have your own interpretation, but did you write this with that interpretation in mind?

This review isn't as long as I had hoped, but I think I touched on all points that stood out to me. Over-all, well done. Despite my other reviews of your work being quite a bit longer than this one, "The Fisherman" is probably the most flexible in meanings of them all. Looking forward to your next piece; perhaps you could settle for a silly adventure story to let that mighty brain of yours rest?

As always, your servant,
cC

Hey, Azila!

I'm here to review this piece for you. I felt like I should since you did review mine and I would feel kinda icky if I at least didn't repay the favor. Now, as far your story goes, I throughly enjoyed it and had a lot of fun reading it. There were many good points to this story and not very many bad ones so I'll have some bit of difficulty reviewing this but we'll see how much juice I can squeeze out of the raisin - thought I doubt it'll be much...

Anywho, onto to the review...

First of all, what I liked the most about this was the narration. It was quite fresh and it was definitely very interesting. From the beginning, you could tell what type of story we're going to get into so that part is nice. Okay, like I seriously like this dude who's telling the story. He sounds like my dad... except less old? I dunno. Anyways, thumbs up on that part. ^__^

The thing that did catch my attention was that it took a while before we actually got into the story. I'm not sure if I'm the only one who thinks this way but I felt like there could have been ways to make the story come faster - not too fast though.

Also, I noticed that there were parts of this story that seemed to drag. Not exactly with description in some parts where I think you meant for it to be humorous but it became a little too much. For example, when the Fisherman first met the draggled man. I'm guessing it's just the personality of the draggled man but I felt that his actions were dragged out and long - I'm pretty sure that this was on purpose due to the feeling that you wanted to give off but I actually skipped some sentences during that part and then stopped and forced myself to read it all because I was afraid I was going to miss something. So I guess this would be a slight precaution sign?

As far as your characters go, they were all quite enjoyable to understand and listen to. I did indeed like them and the Fisherman was interesting but sounded a bit bitter the whole time. I did like the old man though. Also! I liked the twist to the ending, at first I thought he was reading the bible and twisting the words around or something. (I'm not christian so I wouldn't know what's the bible reads like and all that stuff.) However, I was surprised the book was empty. When you first mentioned it, the thought did run through my mind for a second but it wasn't one that I grasped onto so it was one of those ending where you doubt it'll happen but end up saying, "I knew it! I told you so!" xD

Also, as far the ending goes - can I ask one question? XD
Well, was the old man the narrator? I dunno about it but I was thinking about it based on the last bit and man, I seriously wish I knew what happened for real. It's a cliffhanger and I'm not sure if you're planning to write another part to this but I would like that because I want to know what happens...which actually makes me a bit disappointed that you ended it quickly like that. Did you want the ending to be made up by the reader or something of that sort? :/ lol

Overall, I liked what you had. Okay, I'm pretty sure I said that like four or five time already so you get the point.
Well, I hope this review sort of helped in some way or another. You did a fantastic job at making the characters realistic and quirky. The narration was great and the only thing that bugged me was how the ending was a major cliffhanger.

Kay, done. If you have any questions or anything just shoot me a quick message or scribble on my wall. ^___^

All the best,
-Pink

You.

I smell nice now I've had a shower, so I'm all fresh to review this. Anyway, fancy seeing you around, turtle brain. I'm so glad that I'm finally able to review something of yours. I've made you review, like, every piece of mine, so the least I can do is review this. If you have any questions or confessions of how much you wish you were me coz im th@t c00l after this review, just let me know.

WARNING: There's a 10% chance this will actually be useful

This is actually really hard to critique. I mean, the formatting of it and general style of it is... different? In a way, it's an ongoing dialogue, just without the speech marks... kind of. Maybe? Anywho, I think you get what I mean. You're probably used to my way of thinking by now. Nonetheless, I like the style because it is, in fact, different. So yeah. A thumbs up for that.

As a whole, I was very fond of this. It was so weirdly awesome. I mean, the guy on the island sounded like one sexy hobo. Like I said above, I adored the whole storyteller feel to this. I also thought that the ending of this was really well thought out. I think the fact that you left it open for us readers was great. Normally, I hate endings like this because I'm a simple child, so having to think about things frustrates me. In this case, turtle head, it didn't bother me at all. I shall let you know what I thought the bedraggled guy said at the end of this review. I bet you're excited now.

This is three paragraphs long and I haven't given one critique yet. Sorry.

Okay... Hmmm... Wow, this is hard. Okay. Normally, I would critique this by saying that this has a telling, not showing feel to it. But this is a man telling a story, so that would explain it. That ticks that one off the box. The other thing that I'd say is that I noticed that the piece, as a whole, had the same kind of atmosphere running through it. By that, I mean the piece has the same kind of feeling throughout it. I'm hesitant to count that as an actual critique because, in the end, this is a story literally being told, so I mean, I guess it would have the same atmosphere. (That made sense in my head.)

Dang, this is hard.

To be honest, the only thing I can really come up with are those two comments above. If any one of them can be classed as a critique, I think it would be what I said about the continuous atmosphere. Hmmm... maybe what you could do, for example, is play on the fact that it is a man telling his grandchild a story. Let's take the scene where the fisherman spots the boat. You could have the narrator shortening his sentences as the other fishing boat nears to ultimately cause tension. That tension would vary the atmosphere a bit then. Then maybe give the impression that the boat is just about to turn away from the fisherman, then all of a sudden, the boat does, in fact, come towards him.

Obviously, knowing you and your smart, homeschooled mind, you're doing the same atmosphere throughout thing on purpose for reasons that are too complex for my brain. Nonetheless, let me have my fun and pretend to be giving you a decent critique. YOU SMELL. There's another one.

OH! OH! I thought of another one. (Don't worry, it's not, you're a poo.) I was going to mention this earlier, but I only just remember it now. What I found was that, at times, this felt as though it was dragging a bit. Looking at the reviews you've already been given, Punk seems to have brought this up too. I have to agree with her on the fact that I skipped a few sentences here and there, then whipped myself viscously with a scorching whip for doing so. (Not really. I don't have a scorching whip.) I did make sure I turned back and read the sentences I skipped though.

And now, as promised...


Overall, you are just as Godly in writing as you are in critiques. I honestly really like this, and I think it has a potentially really great message, even if there is more than one possibility to what the message actually is. Basing it on my answer, the message is that nutters on islands can get aggressive if annoyed. On a more serious note though, I do think that the message(s) of this could be wonderful ones. Cc gave some really great examples. You could even bring psychology into it. I mean, what a person thinks the bedraggled said next could show how that person thinks and such. Cool.

Keep writing,

xoxo Skins

Happy Birthday! *pops confetti*

Thank you for requesting this. I'm touched. And really, really depressed. I mean, what's there to add after Skins' oh so helpful review?

“Yes,” said the old, bedraggled man, “but only because I—” and then he stopped, clapping an old, bedraggled hand over his old, bedraggled mouth, and started once again to search the book. After several more minutes, by which time the fisherman was almost ready to jump into the ocean with frustration, the old, bedraggled man lifted his face and smiled toothlessly.

I'd have to say that the only part that bothered me was the paragraph I just quote. I mean, bedraggled is not a word I use on a regular basis and it really made it stick out for me. I got stuck on it every time. The other times weren't so bad, because they were used few and far between, but this was oh so much.

Other than that, I really enjoyed this piece. It was simple and humorous; a nice and easy read. I love the narrator's tone, his voice throughout the piece. I'm sorry I have nothing else to add: but you had other great reviews before this one.

Nicely done, Gadzila, you truly deserve the praise for this work.

Tanya

Just a suggestion for the opening paragraph of his story. I assume the narrator wants to make it suspenseful. You can use line breaks to this effect. It would also kind of let us see that he's using his suspenseful story telling voice for these bits. So maybe it would read like this:

It was a rough night, dark and stormy. It was not a good night to be out. <--deep, storytelling voice

Do you understand what I'm saying? <--annoyed that the kid isn't paying attention

But one man was out that night. It was bad. Wet and cold and salty and-- <--suspenseful voice

Well yes, you're right. It was more salty though. Happy? (sheesh, stop interrupting me) <--annoyed

So back to this man... <--storytelling voice

Just a thought. Because I know I use a different voice when I'm telling a story.

And I know that a children's story doesn't necessarily need believability, but there is some believability lacking in the "it was a rough and stormy night" and "this fisherman that was afraid because of his tiny tiny boat was fishing in the bay." Any fisherman worth his two cents would not hang out on the water on a rough and stormy night (especially if he didn't trust his boat) unless he had a real motivation. So if you want to inject some believability, then you have a few options:
1) The storm came suddenly or
2) The fisherman was desperate to catch something (he believed in an old wive's tale about something or other/he had to bring back food to his sickly child) or
3) He was a thrillseeker, but that involves taking out the part about him being worried about his tiny boat

Can you imagine the chew-toys a teething shark would need? Think about that one.

I like that.


Concerning the skipping from the tugging to the shipwrecked:
It doesn't do it for me. I'm not a fan because
1) You've deliberately removed something that I, the reader, might have found particularly interesting. Especially after all that "it was dark and stormy, oooOOooo"
2) It just doesn't make sense that a young boy would say, "You've told this story before." And the narrator says, "Okay, you're right, I've told this story before, so I'll skip the only action-packed part of it and get to the part where he's on an island talking to a guy about his book."
Y'know, I just imagine that if the young boy would want to hear any part of the story, it would be where he wrestles with some goliath fish and is pulled and his boat is torn to shreds against the waves and he's still holding onto the rod for dear life. Unless it doesn't go like that...unless it's, "And he reeled in the line, found a boot, fell asleep, and woke up shipwrecked."
In comparison, getting pulled by a monstrous fish isn't relatively boring compared to the "exciting part" about sitting and talking to an old man about a book on the beach.

No, it's okay; you needn't thank me. The poor fisherman sank to his knees,

Again, I think you need a line break so that we can assume the "storytelling voice" again.

No, it's okay; you needn't thank me. <--normal voice
[So then] the poor fisherman sank to his knees <--storytelling

Again, I know consistency isn't always the most important part about kids' stories, but

Our hero looked around him and saw that his boat was in shambles....Well, pretty soon he got tired of doing that and he looked up...this old, bedraggled man was just inches away from our fisherman.

So you'd think if he looked around enough to see his destroyed boat, he would see an old man inches away from his face.

he asked, with a little fishermanly embarrassment.

Cute, in a fishermanly way.

he bent over his book and began flipping the pages....After a several minutes of this,

Several minutes? Sheesh, that's a long time for the fisherman to be staring at a guy flipping pages. Just imagine that in real-time.

clapping an old, bedraggled hand over his old, bedraggled mouth

I like that, too. Cute, in an old, bedraggled way.

the fisherman asked, “would it...

Capitalize "Would."

“Never mind,” he said. “I was only curious, anyhow.”
The old, bedraggled man looked up from the book with a look of relief on his face. “Alright,” he said. [It's important to do things according to the book, and such and so forth]
[The fisherman looked around, saw the ruins again.] “What am I to do? O, what am I to do?!” he called out.

That's a very sudden change. "I was only curious," followed by glancing around, followed by "O, what do I do?"
He just immediately despairs and falls to the pits of agony, like Gollum from Lord of the Rings does: "We loves hobbitses! OH SMEAGOL IS SO STUPID!" It's a little cartoony.

In fact, may times they have seen me

Typo. "Many," not "may"

I enjoyed the overall tone. You were consistent and didn't appear to accidentally drop it at any point.

Again, we could have used visual distinctions between how we interpret the storytelling aspect of it and how we interpret the regular-conversation-with-the-kid.

The ending was interesting. It's so innocent, it's difficult to tell how you wanted it interpreted or if you wanted it interpreted at all. Therefore, I won't tarnish its innocence with my conjectures. But, y'know, a man on an island, being held together by his belief in a book to such an extent that it gets in the way of common sense and denies him of what he clearly wants (his wistful tone telling us he wants to return to society)...it's difficult to not make a particular assumption about it. So if that's what you wanted, then kudos.

As usual, this is great. Something I've noticed about your stories (at least, with the exception of The Forger's Apprentice) is that they are usually written in the theme of a narrator telling a story. That theme was touched upon in Once Again and One of Them, and it's the main theme of this story. Which is not a bad thing, except for a single (personal) nitpick: there's a general lack of detailed description, which you are very awesome at.

Once again, this is not a bad thing. The story works well with what description it has, it's engaging, (very) humorous, and altogether great. I'm also aware that it's not the sort-of story that needs detailed description, so let me revert back to my original point that this is a personal view. I think the greatest skills you have in writing are your description and engaging narrated-storytelling, which is why I loved Once Again so much. But now, that aside, as I'm just rambling on now.

I've found only a few nitpicks in this piece after scouring it for such (because I don't have many true ones ).

Azila wrote:Not so small that it was hard not to fall off, mind you—but small enough to squeeze easily in the one's brain without kicking anything else out.

I'm not sure 'the' should be there.

Azila wrote:As in tremendous, and gigantic, and humungous and massive and really, quite large.

Humongous? Or is that an American spelling?

Azila wrote:It's like how Eskimos have seven hundred different words for “snow.”

Nothing wrong grammatically or spelling-wise, but warning bells rang in my head at this point. I'm pretty sure you know it's not true and you were merely representing the grandfather's ignorance, but it just reminded me of when my classmate called Native Americans stupid for 'letting the Americans take their land'. I was seething. Ignorance is annoying, y'know?

with a little fishermanly embarrassment.

Shouldn't that be fisherman-ly?

Azila wrote:He waved his arms in the air and jumped around like a crazy person, yowling and crying and calling out.

I was under the impression that yowling was generally done in response to pain. Not to mention it sounds a little off when you read the sentence out. Yelling, perhaps?

Azila wrote:That was a rhetorical question, punk, one you weren't supposed to answer. And you're wrong, besides—he didn't just see a man; he saw an old, bedraggled man. Are you sure you've heard this story before?

That was another rhetorical question—you gotta learn from your mistakes, you little pipsqueak.

I'm only pointing this out because in the length of the story the boy's grandfather calls him names a few times. Most names are words that I can associate with his age (e.g. whippersnapper, sonny) or vocabulary (e.g rascal), but then some words (e.g. punk, pipsqueak) sound a little...I don't know, strange coming from him? They sound like something a younger person would say, but from previous words he's used and the way he talks to the boy it would seem that he is fairly old. The words and my perception of his age just clash a bit--maybe it's just me?


Nitpicks aside, I enjoyed this story, especially the banter between grandfather and child. I didn't have a problem with the ending, in fact I think it was perfectly fitting, the reader not learning everything. It actually reminds me of The Alchemist in a way, because it gives the story a slightly surreal, or abstract quality. And besides, as cC mentioned there where so many ways the story could have ended, and it's best that the answer is simply left to the imagination of the reader. So great job (per usual), and KEEP WRITING!

Tiger

(P.S. Writing this review reminded me how much I miss reviewing. I think I'm going to review a lot this half-term.)

I smell nice

Yes, I do. Thanks for pointing that out.

Okay, so I enjoyed this, Zeela. But I'm horrible at praise. You should read some of my reviews that have attempted to praise someone. They are painful to read. They're not the best. So, I think it'd be in both of our interests to just skip right into the critiques. I'm better at those.

So. I think that at this point the grandson would be really offended. But I don't care about him. I only care about myself. On the other hand, I am a bit annoyed. Why? It seems you go out of your way to think of new names to call him. Because there are just so many different names you throw at him. This completely contradicts the repeated "old bedraggled man" thing, which, by the way, I like (my praise = "I like"). Uh, that last sentence was supposed to say that in some cases you utilize repetition, but in others, you use absolutely no repetition. It just seems so obvious that you are trying to think of all the names a grandfather could call a grandson. So, my tip would be to limit the names to just one or two different ones. It'd make this all the more believable.

Critique number two. The setting. And not the setting as in the island, but the setting as in (I'm assuming, based on the whole "put your legs under the covers" thing) the bed. Though this is fine, I think it'd be even better if you were to relegate this to, say, a campfire, or a woodstove. It just is so traditional that stories such as these are told at fires. And, him being a grandfather, tradition would be pretty important.

put both legs under the covers—yes, that's it, but with your head on the pillow

Ah. I nearly forgot. One more little nitpick for you to chew on. Just don't chew too hard.

“This isn't the first time I've seen a boat come by,” said the old, bedraggled man wistfully. “In fact, may times they have seen me and offered to take me to land... but I must refuse every time.”

I have this strange feeling that you meant "many."

Soooo...sorry about the delay, by the way. Been busy.

Keep. Writing.

-Kafka

Azila Wzila. Unless you want to be terribly insulted don't read what's hidden away in the spoiler below. It may contain information that is untrue due to my mood and the circumstances. It may not. I might mean everyword. I might not.



Yes anyway. I should probably get to the part where you watch my burn. Meaning, I'll just skip on over and serve you up this burnt, out of date pasta dish. Otherwise meaning, I'll get to this review you requested.

*Heaves*

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I'm not going to bother going over your grammar because your work is always flawless. I'll start with your plot and such. Don't mind if I be harsh. I'm probably just severly depressed.

THE PLOT:First of all, the idea of using narration was ingenius. I haven't read something like this for a while so I was nicely surprised. Your first line was a bit...choppy but I liked it. It was a weird way to start but in all fairness it was quirky. It got me interested. I enjoyed this too;

[quoteSmart little whippersnapper.][/quote]

I loved how you interpretted the narrator into the actual story. Every so often, when you'd be telling us about the actual happenings, we'd get this little line ,like the one I quoted above, that added the humour that made your story. The way you wrote it...it was so original. I was doubled over. My favourite one would have to be;

Can you imagine the chew-toys a teething shark would need? Think about that one.

I mean who other then the Azila could come up with that? The interrupitions, in my opinion, were half the story. If anything, they kept me interested. If you don't mind I think I'll just ramble on about the little weird bits rather then the actual story kay? Nah. I will get to the real plot soon. The part were you let us in on who the narrator was, was also prettyy brilliant. I'm always saying to my writers that, writing is not about the telling it's about the showing. You showed us every little detail in such short, rude lines that it made me made. You make all of this look easy. That's why, next time-When I have writers block, I'm never going to review your work as it makes my writing feel and look like a teeny, tiny speck of dirt. Seriously now, the way this read was just...weirdly perfect. I felt as thought you were telling me to tuck my legs into the duvet, telling me that I was to respect my Grandad. Only after reading this did I realise that I wasn't in bed or with any Grandad. *I gotta admit, that was the sad part*

Onto the real plot. You told it well. Sometimes, I admit, I got aggreviated as you babbled on a little too long for my liking, I wanted to get to the story. I wanted to know about the fisherman, about his boat and about his catch. You told us eventually but by that time I was a little queezy. Your pace was grand other then that and you told it perfectly. The story had a nice rythme to it and it flowed well. It read well. The only thing I really hated in this was the ending. After building us up, serving us up a nice plate of melting chocolate cake I felt as though you had left us without a spoon. We couldn't eat what you served up for us. I was so disappointed. I mean what kind of a story has no ending? I mean, I've read stories where you have to guess the ending but thats when the ending is clear. The ending to this wasn't clear. At all. It was covered up by a misty fog so we couldn't see. Why? I ask why? Why did you leave it the way you did? Were you tired? Did you take some sort of unhealthy medicine? I just couldn't and still can't see why you would leave the ending so bluntly open and in air? Ok enough. You had a beautiful beginning, middle but not end. As your fellow writer I would advise strongly, you rethink the ending. It looks like you got bored and left. Seriously. Fix it. NOW.

Detail and Decription:
Ok. In this area you are the whizz. (Apart from Persi) You have the most powerful description on the site. I mean, I'm not sure how you do it. In this peice you didn't use mind-boggling vocabulary you just...somehow got the right words into the right slots. You don't drawl on for ages describing the same, one thing. You move on in exactly the right time; you have just enough. Not too much or too little. A couple of lines in particular stood out on their own.

It was a hard tug. A quick, emphatic tug, you hear? Well, since he was a seasoned fisherman and knew the sea and its creatures back to front and cross-indexed, he was roused by the tug, since it was like no tug he had ever felt. It was hard, yes, and insistent, but delicate too. A sly, dexterous tug

You see what I mean here? You didn't go on forever about the tug, just enough to make us understand what you mean. I liked you described the tug. It was...breathtaking.

Other then that, I can't say much more. You were quite repetative sometimes. I'm not even going to count the amount of times you used bedraggled.

This is defiantly up to the usual standards and youshould be really proud of this, Fix the ending and I'lll be extra proud of it too. The main thing to ke on eye on grammar wise is comma's. Scanning over it, you put some in some pretty weird places. I have that problem to though, don't worry. It's aard habit to break but yours isn't that major so you needn't worry.

Keep writing.
Kagi xoxo

(Gee, I'm pretty happy with this review.)