Applebeans

I'm glad to see that you've added the crown bit we had talked about earlier, but I'd still recommend a re-write (even though we both agreed that those are nigh impossible to do). While the new lines you added do make the emotions a bit more coherent and tight, packing a stronger punch, they still aren't quite enough.

On the second read-through, I realized something, and I think this is what has been bothering me for quite a while about this piece (and I think that this is one of the biggest missing puzzle pieces that are preventing me from taking the full brunt of the story's emotional impact). The apple tree is a symbol - and nothing more. Daniel did not plant it because at that moment, he thought "This will be a symbol for my growth as a human being". He planted it because he hoped it might help feed the family. You never mention what it had done for them after Dan's dad passed away; in fact, at the end of the story, when he looks at the tree, you do not even mention the small green apples growing on its branches which Dan thought were the most delicious things on earth, what with them saving his family and all. The only thing that's there is the tree. Nothing else.

Good job on characterizing the hat a bit, though I still felt a bit lost when you mentioned it was stolen. Perhaps you could reference it just before he leaves to try and find work that day, so that the reader's memory is jogged? Or-- I recall you saying it's a special Jewish thing-- you could mention that somewhere. Because as things stand now, it seems perfectly normal for a dead man in the Great Depression to have his hat stolen. That context makes it OK, just as it would make it perfectly OK for a family to drag a corpse to their house and eat it, if the story took place in Leningrad in 1942. But while you've got that link there to provide an explanation of why the heck somebody would consider doing that OK, it's still not 100% clear (at least to me) why the hat was special.

On the subject of letter writing confusion - I think what you've got set up right now is almost perfect, BUT! Why not make all the parts that are supposed to be the letter in italics instead? That way it can't be misunderstood. Or so I hope.

...and honestly, I think I have to stop here. It's difficult for me to review a non-fantastical piece as it is (remember my signature? "If it doesn't have freaks, monsters, or anything that isn't grounded in reality, it cannot be fun."), and it's even more difficult to review something that's so well-written already. But I hope this provides a bit more insight, besides what we talked about before.

Your hat,
cC

Wazzup. Corrections/my comments will be in red.

Azila wrote:Monday, April 26, 1999

Dear Hannah,

Your father sent me pictures of you from the Passover Seder, and I can not cannot believe how much you have grown! You are a beautiful girl, my dear Urgh. Does this sound forced to you, too?. I miss you very much The way you phrase these two sentences has an insinuation of cause and effect, and thus suggests that the reason the grandfather misses Hannah is her beauty. I would suggest rephrasing this. . I think of you every day, but I will especially be thinking of you this Thursday. You are going to be ten years old already? Incredible These last two sentences don't really work after the sentence prior to them. Find the level of animation you want to go for, and stick with it. ! I still remember my tenth birthday—


Here the pen paused Not a huge fan of the alliteration. Try to avoid them as much as possible. . The old man's gaze drifted up from the paper and out of the small window next to his writing desk, resting upon the swarming, bustling New York City laid out below him A gaze can't "rest upon" a scene as large as this. Try saying it rested upon a street or something. . His eyes were wide and glassy. Slowly, he brought his right hand up to his cheek. The back of his ballpoint pen rested against his dry lips. These sentences flow together about as well as bricks do (first thing I thought of; you know what I mean). All of the sentences in this paragraph consist only of single clauses, save for the second. Again, phrasing needs some work.


...because it was the first time I knew what it was to be poor. Your omission of "like" (as in "...I knew what it was like to be poor.") causes me to believe that you had previously not even known what being poor was. You could, of course, not intend this to have an entirely literal meaning (he hadn't known what it was really like to be poor), but I think including the "like" would convey this meaning a bit more strongly. Precision, precision.
Papa hated poor people He hated them? Or was he afraid of becoming one of them? What would cause him to so adamantly despise poor people? Are you sure "hate" is the word you want? . Not people like us, who hardly had any money or food and lived in a on-room one-room flat that was too small to hold us Whoa - slow down. Organize your thoughts a bit more. Also, if it was too small to hold you, how could you be living there? Or that could just be my always anti-hyperbolic self. —but people who were poor on the inside. People who had pawned their souls when while (my personal preference - you can ignore that if you want) we pawned our furniture. You could see them sleeping on Bowery, begging for money from the people in the dosshouses How are they able to beg while they're sleeping? They must be really talented. . No matter how much our bellies ached from hunger, no matter how cold we were in our bare (Try a two-syllable adjective here. Think it might sound better.) one-room flat, watching snow collect like dust against the broken windows (Despite how beautiful I think this is, I don't think it entirely fits: it's the first metaphor - indeed, the first in-depth piece of imagery - thus far. Also, who would include this in a letter to a ten year old?) —no matter how poor we were on the outside, we were not poor on the inside.
“We are a family of kings,” he said, when he came home in defeat Your dialog and blocking don't match up. I can't picture someone both defeated in appearance and upbeat in speech. after another day of looking for work. It was so late in the night, I know there is something of a natural pause here, but the comma is grammatically incorrect. If you think it sounds weird without the comma, rework the sentence. that it was already morning Please don't contradict yourself. It sounds extremely clumsy. . The morning of March 14, 1933. The morning of my tenth birthday—though birthdays didn't carry much importance to us Strangely worded. in those years. Mama and I were on the mattress, shivering with hunger and weak with cold, huddled close to my sleeping brothers Don't like this last part. You can either get rid of it or, if you really are intent on mentioning the brothers, redo this so that it doesn't read so oddly. . Papa had been gone since before dawn and had nothing to show for it "Nothing to show for it" indicates an annoyance on the part of the narrator as far as the father's failures, or even a belief that he lacks determination. but shoe-soles that were wearing ever thinner and eyes tired enough for a thousand years of looking.
“Kings,” he said, tossing his hat onto the table. He spoke quietly but his words seethed Now I'm really confused. "Seethed" has an allusion of anger (more along the lines of anger the lines of anger than frustration), and I'm not sure how this evolved so quickly from the defeatedism he had been suffering from a few seconds earlier.. “All of us.”
“Even Mama?” As the words left my lips ...Which suggests a realization, or an abrupt revelation... , I watched his ...and for this reason a verb such as "watch" won't work. , waiting for a smile.
For a heartbeat, he just looked at me with terrible eyes I wouldn't call them "terrible." That's a bit of an overstatement. —eyes that looked, but didn't see Why would a statement about the mother prompt this? I honestly don't see how she plays that large of a role in the story. . Then he turned away and leaned down over the washbowl There's a washbowl? When did that get there? to splash the day off of his face.
I let myself fall onto my side and curled curl up on the hard mattress Not sure why he'd include details such as this in a letter. , with my back towards Mama and her round belly I take this to mean that he resentful towards his mother's pregnancy. Again, I don't know why including this is necessary. . No matter how late he stayed out, and no matter how tired I was, I never let myself fall asleep until Papa came home.Never. Before, that simple act had guaranteed me a smile—every night, when he saw me, his filthy face would come alive with happiness I was picturing more of a grim, at-least-I-still-have-something-good-in-my-life kind of smile. Euphoric joy doesn't tend to come that easily. . But that night, I was just another of his burdens After having caused him to smile so routinely, believing this, without hesitation, only causes me to view Daniel as eccentric. . I was nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut against hot tears and hugged my throbbing stomach Since when do stomachs throb? .
The fist of hunger is nothing compared to the jaws of defeat Defeat...because he couldn't make his dad smile? This is what the context indicates. Aren't there more pressing matters to be worrying about? .


I didn't want to sleep that night. The sharp, empty pain in my gut told me I couldn't sleep Did it tell you? Or did it cause you to? There is a difference. Also, is this pain hunger? If so, why hasn't it kept him up before? . I didn't deserve it The reasons behind this are very cloudy. Could you present a definite reason why you don't deserve sleep? . I lay there most of the night Well, duh. I think I can figure out this much. , the chill "Chill" isn't an adjective. air of our flat stinging my tear-stained face Again: this is all a letter. , and let the sounds of my family's heavy breathing drown me. And I decided, sometime during the night, that I would go with Papa in the morning. Together (Since there's no comma after the second together, a comma before the first one sounds slightly odd.) we would leave the flat Of course you're going to leave the flat. It'd be hard to help him if you didn't. and together we would find work. Ten years old, I decided, was old enough to help Papa.


When I woke up, the sun was had hardly risen but Papa had was already gone. Panic boomed How does that work? Also, the father leaves to find work every day. Why would missing him once cause him to feel such panic? I would think he'd feel more of a passing disappointment. inside me—how had I fallen asleep? How had I missed Papa leaving? I clambered off of the mattress as quickly as I could without waking Mama or my brothers You refer to them simply as "my brothers;" you must not be very close. . Frustrated tears threatened my eyes as I pulled on my coat (which was Papa's old jacket and reached below my knees) and left the flat. He's not very logical. Why not just wait until tomorrow?
Outside, everything was coated in gray pre-dawn light, as though the city had been forgotten overnight and collected a thin layer of dust. I stood there on the stoop for a moment, watching the parade of men The parade of men? I had no idea there was a "parade of men." Hence, your article (the) should be relegated to the indefinite (a). trudge past me, hat-brims low over sallow, shadowy faces, washed with determination Determination? Determination to do what? How do you know they're determined, and not just grim? . So many faces—and they were all the same Actually, when I went to New York, I was surprised at the variety of facial features. Besides, I'm not sure why Daniel's thinking that everyone looks the same is significant enough to include. .
As I stepped off the stoop, the men turned from faces Were the men completely faces before that? Don't tell me that's the only part of them Daniel could see. to legs. Worn leather shoes You just said legs, but now you're talking about feet...? shuffling along a dusty It's dusty? 2nd Avenue. A flood of legs, all in the same grays and blacks and browns—any one of them could have been Papa Don't get ahead of yourself. If Daniel missed Papa, then it was, more likely than not, by at least ten or fifteen minutes. This means that Papa would probably have been well away from the flat by then. So, no: if Daniel just stepped off, none of them would have been Papa. .
Not knowing what else to do, I started wandering through the ocean of legs You're using "legs" way too much here. Also, this is the second time you've used a water-related metaphor to describe the crowd (more specifically, the legs), and that kind of thing tends to dry up fast. , gazing up at the faces. I realized then how poorly I knew my own father; I convinced Wouldn't you want to convince yourself otherwise? Wouldn't this be the nagging feeling you'd be trying to suppress, and not bolster? myself that I could have walked right in front of past (makes a bit more sense) him without knowing it. On the street, he would just be another jobless Jew in the Lower East Side.
And I wondered: would he recognize me? You don't follow up on this, so its purpose is a bit obscure to me. Not sure what you're aiming to accomplish.
I was a small boy—barely taller than most men's waists and skinnier than I should have been—but the emptiness inside me was big enough for a giant All the time? Your general description of yourself earlier (Daniel's recountal of his physicalities), followed by the (I'm guessing) temporary attribute makes me believe that much. To fix this, I'd put a "then" between "me" and "was." . Big enough to devour me Whoa - where'd this come from? I have absolutely no idea why Daniel's feeling so emotional right now. . It clouded my eyes and numbed my feet and didn't let me think. The world around me touched my eyes and ears but left no finger prints fingerprints Rephrase this. The sentences (you're straying into single-clause ones again) sound annoyingly clunky. . I walked on blindly, unfeeling, not knowing where I was going Not so smart. . All I knew was that I didn't care Okay, hold on. You want me to believe that Daniel's suffering from this spurt of traumatic hopelessness simply because he can't find his dad. There is a variety of reasons this doesn't work. Firstly, he just stepped off the flat. And just doing this requires some amount of optimism; and it wouldn't deteriorate as fast as you're telling me it did. Secondly, if he was feeling any emotion, it'd be panic, not despondency. And thirdly, wouldn't he worry about getting lost? New York City is a big place, as I'm sure you know. .


And then I saw something. A glimmering oasis of color amid the eternal Erm, eternal? Let's keep things within reach, please. grays of the city Okay. 1) This sounds completely strange where it is and 2), though I know I've said this many times already, you're forgetting that this is still a letter. . A mirage Your method of describing something, of building up tension, before actually revealing what the subject is is clichéd and ineffective. . I walked If Daniel's as dazed as you say he is, wouldn't he be more stumbling than walking? towards it, forcing my eyes to focus. What I saw made the emptiness inside me swell so huge that I was sure I wouldn't be able to contain it all What? I have no idea what emotion you're trying to establish with this. .
It was a fruit stand It was? Then why do you describe it as a "divine eruption of color" later on? Don't confuse us with low expectations. . Oranges, grapes, apples, bananas, pears—the wooden crates displayed such fantastic colors that my eyes watered For the colors? Make sure the reader knows, and you know, what it is you're referring to with phrases like these. . I had seen fruit stands before, but I knew I had never seen such a divine Maybe a bit of an overstatement. eruption of color in my life.
I was right next to in front of it now. My nose was mere inches from the round, glistening red Don't inundate me with adjectives. I find it annoying and obtrusive. apples. The tips of my fingers tingled. Aaand we're back to the sentence fluency problem.
My arm raised. My fingers stretched out wide and grasped one of the apples tight to my palm. Horribly clunky, Zeela. Remember: commas are your friends. It was hard and heavy and smooth.
“Hey buddy, you buying that apple Ohhh, sooo clichéeed.... The "hey buddy" just kills it. Plus, who would talk that way to a kid? ? They're a a dozen for a dime or a penny for one This is unnecessary information. Just one price will do. .”
I clutched the fruit tight against my chest.
And ran.


Papa hated thieves. Thieves were people who were poor on the inside. Every New Yorker in those days was at least (To avoid the contradictory miscontrual that they were only poor on the outside, which would be paradoxical simply because thieves exist.) poor on the outside—none of us had enough food to eat or enough clothes to wear Funny, then, how no one is walking around half-naked. Try "hardly enough clothes to wear" or something along those lines. . None of us had enough of anything, except hunger and holes and shattered pride Two problems. One, this suggests that they once were wealthy, and I know (using Daniel as an example) that this is not necessarily correct. And two, if everyone is just as poor as everyone else, as you say, then what reason is there to feel embarrassed? What would one be comparing oneself to? . To steal from someone who was struggling was the poorest thing you could do, and since we were all struggling, stealing from anyone was only something truly (to avoid the confusion between "inside" and "outside" poorness. poor people did.
I knew this. I knew Papa would hate Papa seems to hate quite a lot of things for such a supposedly respectable man. me if he found out. But still, I kept running, clutching the apple in my hand. When it is quiet, I can still hear the echoes of “stop thief!” engraved on into the inside of my ears. My legs ached, the paving stung the soles of my feet through the pathetic Describe how they were "pathetic." bottoms of my shoes. The cold air burnt my lungs.
But still, I kept running.


I don't remember how the apple tasted This is unrealistic. Based on his reaction to seeing the fruit stand, he had very rarely eaten anything even close to an apple. The taste, then, should have made quite an impression on him. . All I remember is that I ate it as fast as I could. I was destroying (You accidentally put two spaces between "was" and "destroying.") evidence. Mama used to tell me never to eat apple-seeds, or “applebeans,” as she liked to call them. She said they brought bad luck. I carefully picked out all of the seeds before shoving the stem Only the stem? He picked out all the apple seeds from the apple, and then only ate the stem? of the apple into my mouth. An apple stem is a bit small for someone to be able to shove into their mouth.


I didn't tell anyone about what I'd done Well, duh. . I thought Mama would have scolded You thought she would have? , my brothers would have been jealous "Jealous" is a bit light. They would be positively resentful. , and I didn't think I could stand Papa's disappointment. Not yet.


That night, when Papa came home, he still hadn't found work. I could see the humiliation I'm not sure "humiliation" is the word you're looking for. Humiliation would imply that Papa is contrasting himself with others, and I've already made clear why this would not be valid. in every part of him. It dripped from his hair, clung to the wrinkles in his face, tangled itself into his beard You say every part of him, and yet you only reference facial characteristics. . I turned away from him Before or after you were within sight of him? You make it sound as if it were the latter. Perhaps you could say something along the lines of "I heard him opening the door, so I turned away from him...yadda yadda."and pretended I hadn't noticed that he was home. Pretended to be asleep.
“Daniel, my boy,” he said, tossing his hat onto the table. His warm words This is incongruous with your previous statement that he was extremely "humiliated" (Even if you were to adjust this a bit, it'd still be contradictory, because the emotion would retain its negativity.). Meretriciously warm words won't "churn cold air" the way genuinely warm ones do. churned the cold air.
I sat up and forced myself to look at him Why? Because you were weary, or because you were ashamed at what you did? Though I highly suspect the latter, you need more foundation for this. .
And then something miraculous I know it's not exactly everyday, but would Daniel really label a smile from Papa as a miracle? happened.
First, little folds rippled out from his lips Immediate problem. You don't have ripples of this sort unless 1) you're really fat or 2) you're really old. It is pretty easy to deduce that Papa fits under neither of these categories, and so I honestly am unable to picture these wrinkles. , as though his face was a puddle and his mouth was someone's finger, tickling the water That's an...interesting image, I suppose, and it's well done, but again, it would only really apply to obese people, or possibly very old ones. Or if they smoked. . The surface of the water was nubbly with dark specks of dirt One question: does Papa shave? Can he even find time to shave, what with his busy schedule and all? This in mind, wouldn't he have stubs of hair around his mouth as well? , and as the ripples got bigger How do they get bigger? it was like the specks fell into them, making them look as though they had been drawn in charcoal No idea what this is supposed to mean. You need to clarify this image. . His lips stretched tight over his big, crooked teeth I'd mention that they're yellow, too. , sending ripples down into his beard and evenup to his eyes.
For the seconds that his face held the smile, I was the happiest boy in all of Manhattan. The whole city (the whole world) (If you want to include that anyway (which I wouldn't recommend - it's unnecessary), placing it inside parentheses would be incorrect. Parentheses manifest a piece of additional information that contributes to the reader's understanding of the story. So unless you were saying that New York City was the whole world to the boy, which would be a bit odd, you should either get rid of this or use a different method (dashes, perhaps) to communicate this idea. was in that smile, traced in those creases and glistening in those eyes that were too tired to see it. And it was all mine Huh? That's a strange thing to think. .
“Happy birthday,” he said, and then turned away to wash the day off of his face.


The next morning, I planted the applebeans in a tin bowl I found after one of the breadlines had cleared Erm, do you mean someone dropped it or...? You need to make this idea a bit clearer. . Over the next few weeks, that tin bowl full of earth became my one focus. I kept it behind the crate that our washbowl was on and watered it every day Wouldn't they see him? Mama and the brothers, I mean? The washbowl crate is in plain sight. . Every morning, after Papa left, I would take the bowl outside and sit on the stoop with it on my lap so it could get first dibs Almost positive this phrase didn't exist back then. Correct me if I'm wrong. at the day's sunlight. I promised myself that once the tree sprouted, I would tell Papa about the apple I stole.
All my hunger, all my guilt, all my emptiness was channeled into willing the seeds to grow.


On the morning of April 8, 1933, there was a small green sprout in my tin (I am already aware that the bowl is tin, and the sentence has enough adjectives in it as it is.) bowl. My heart leaped I like "leapt" better, personally, but either one is correct. . I had never seen something anything so beautiful in all my life Not even the fruit stand? You were pretty ecstatic over that. . The tiny green leaves were already infinitely complex and unique, like a new born newborn baby's fingerprint That's a weird comparison. Fingerprints don't tend to be used to represent sophistry. . All day my eyes caressed them. My thoughts were filled with apple trees, looming over the city and dropping apples into the hands of all the people who were poor on the outside Where did this come from? I was under the impression that he only wanted to help his father. . Nobody would ever again be so poor on the inside as to steal apples This makes me believe that he has ceased feeling guilty entirely, because he can think about the deed directly and not feel remorse - he can even convince himself that he did something good. , because you can't steal something if it is falling to you from the sky And yet now you're contradicting yourself by labeling stealing apples as a bad thing. .
And my thoughts were also filled with Papa. Knowing that it soon wouldn't be a secret anymore, my memory of being a thief stopped aching. I knew he would smile when he saw the sprout Yes, but wouldn't he be angry, too? Don't forget that you said earlier that Papa "hated" thieves. Even if the thief was his son, he'd still be disappointed. Surely Daniel would consider this. Make him feel nervous. . And when Papa smiled, it made me so rich on the inside that I was a king of kings.


I was the only one who sat awake all night But you always stay awake and wait for Papa, so how is this anything worth noting? , because my brothers always slept like stones and since Mama's belly had started growing so huge Honestly, ten years old is more than experienced enough to know that his mother is pregnant. , she said she needed her rest. I sat on one of the crates that we used instead of chairs Crates are just about as expensive as chairs, though. , with the tin bowl on in my lap and my eyes fastened tighton the door. Waiting.
I sat that way all night.
A few hours after sunrise, there was a knock on the door. I must have said something I had to read this through a few times to finally understand what you mean by this. Its meaning should be more obvious than that.(though I don't remember what it was), because soon the door swung open and a man walked in. It wasn't Papa.
It was a policeman, coming to tell us that Papa's body had been found in the street, run over by an automobile. His hat had been stolen.


The old man's dark Dark? , wet eyes blinked, as though in an effort to clear something that was clouding them Or, you know, to hold back tears. He's an old man, of course, so his ability to restrain his emotional impulses are a bit more resilient, but I'm not entirely sure what you mean when you say something's clouding them. That's usually only used in light of an epiphany or dark memory (not necessarily sad, like this - you did say Daniel's eyes were wet. . Slowly, they scanned the city before him—taking in the shoppers flitting in and out of storefronts, the bright billboards, the new, colorful buildings. His eyes shifted to the balcony, where a crab-apple tree was growing in a large clay pot. New, bright green leaves glowed in the early spring light It's April, so wouldn't there be flowers on it? Though you probably know these things better than me. . Slowly, minutely, he shook his head. He took his right hand away from his cheek, bringing his pen away from his lips and back to the piece of paper on his desk.


—and it feels as though it were only yesterday. How time flies Whoa. Major change in emotions. Definitely doesn't sound right. ! Before I know it, you will be driving yourself all the way to New York to visit me. Here's a big happy Yeah. That story you just told was just bursting with happiness, wasn't it? birthday wish to a very special girl.

So so much love,
Grandpa Daniel

Wow, this was thoroughly engrossing. I really got into the story, and you portrayed everything beautifully. It's better written then a lot of published work! Anyway, I agree about the letter as a birthday letter....especially to a ten-year-old. I mean, seriously? Anyway, others have gone into that, so I won't. I do have to admit, I wasn't sad. Really. It didn't make me feel sad, it almost inspired me, more then anything. Daniel's hope and emotions...were so fantastic! I love this!

Hey Azila!

It's so nice to read something of yours. I have to say, you write just as well as you review. Maybe even better, if that's possible

This was like an emotional rollercoaster to read. The bit where he's told his father was dead was like a sharp slap to the face to read and it was so sad. And then the part where his father smiles as him, says happy birthday, made me smile ear to ear. You are good at manipulating your reader.

I think this review is going to fail at being very helpful - not that you need the help - but I do agree about the letter being a bit heavy for a letter to a ten year old on her birthday. I get that it may just be her grand-pa teaching her a life lesson - don't steal. But it still seems a bit... odd, for the occasion. Don't get me wrong though, I enjoyed the story and the fact that it was the grand-pa telling his granddaughter about his own tenth birthday does kind of cancel out the heaviness of the letter. I mean, it's not his fault that his dad died, is it?

I did spot one mistake.

where an crab-apple tree

Yourface. Yourturtleface.

I'm kind of disappointed that you wrote this because I was getting excited at the idea of Ranger setting me free to attack you. Ah well, another time, eh? Except for that though, I'm so glad you posted this! I know you've been struggling with writer's block recently so it makes me feel so warm inside to know that you've managed to write something up, and something good too!

Now, I'm certain you know me well enough to know that I'm a fan of depressing writing. I mean, look at my own writing. Because of that, I liked this piece even more. On the other hand, when I think about it, this isn't really a depressing story as such. Sure, the ending didn't exactly lift my heart, but the rest of it was so... nice, you know? Daniel had so much hope and happiness, despite clearly having such little money. He had such determination with growing the apple tree, it was incredibly sweet. I also like the whole irony thing at the end: never steal things, eh?

Now. Critiques. LOL, this is going to suck.

The first thing that comes to mind is about the letter itself: the fact that it's a letter to Daniel's ten year old granddaughter on her birthday. I understand that he may be sending it to her to teach her a life lesson e.t.c. but it seems a bit... odd. I don't know about you, but when I used to receive birthday letters from my relatives (I had an Aunty that used to live in Canada), she had a tendency to say happy birthday, have a lovely day, I hope you like you present, what's it like being...years old? e.t.c. She didn't write me a rather sad, complicated-to-understand-the-true-meaning-if-you're ten-years-old story about her life as a kid. xD

Maybe I'm looking too much into this, I don't know, but do you see what I mean? If I got a letter like this from my grandfather for my tenth birthday, I think I would have just stared at it... It's not that this doesn't work as a letter, not at all! It's just that... I don't know, I guess it just seems weird that he's writing it to his ten year old granddaughter... for her birthday.

On a kind of similar note, I found that the last paragraph threw me off a bit. The last paragraph was what I'd think of when I'd think 'grandfather's letter to his granddaughter on her birthday'. I mean, you went form this:

It was a policeman, coming to tell us that Papa's body had been found in the street, run over by an automobile. His hat had been stolen.

—and it feels as though it were only yesterday. How time flies! Before I know it, you will be driving yourself all the way to New York to visit me. Here's a big happy birthday wish to a very special girl.

It was a policeman, coming to tell us that Papa's body had been found in the street, run over by an automobile. His hat had been stolen--and it feels as though it were only yesterday. How time flies! Before I know it, you will be driving yourself all the way to New York to visit me. Here's a big happy birthday wish to a very special girl.

Emotional/defensive reaction: SHUT UP. YOU SHUT UP. RIGHT NOW. I DON'T WANT TO CRY.

^
That happened right around the time he started crying because his daddy didn't notice him. Gah.

Logical reaction: This is beautiful. :p

(For the record, I stayed up till 3 am and my head hurts. So. Sad things = right now.)


You have fragments in places. Like this part:

And then I saw something. A glimmering oasis of color amid the eternal grays of the city. A mirage.

The Gila Munster came through! *pokes Skinsy back into the cage* Way to go, I knew you could do it!

First off, this was beautifully written; I felt my heart drop when I read the ending, and felt so sorry for Daniel! I don't know much about that time period and the whole setting, but it felt like it all made sense and was accurate.

My only real nitpick would be confusion in a couple of places -- first, regarding the entire letter. I thought he had written that entire story relating his tale and didn't think that he might have just been thinking back in the middle of writing the birthday letter until the very end, when he finishes. I don't know if there's any way to make this more clear the first go-round. I hope this makes sense, let me know if you need more clarification.

Second part I got a little confused about was this:

“Hey buddy, you buying that apple? They're a a dozen for a dime or a penny for one.”
I ran.

Azi! This is amazing! About the only mistake I found was not yours.
After and before (respectively) the places where the grandfather's actions take over the letter changes to talk about his life. Although this transition was good enough for us, I could barely imagine a ten-year old girl taking it so well. It's her birthday, goshness-sake. Would she want to receive a letter built to make her cry (not sayin' I did) or effect her deeply? I don't think the grandfather was without that knowledge either, and would have built it up a little more slowly.
Unless he thought he was teaching her a life lesson, and that no one should shelter her from the realities of life.
Whatever, I just wanted to say this was awesome!
Jenth out.

(This deserves an Azi-Stamp, but...never mind )

Here to repay the favour! How has this got so many views yet only one review? This was fantastic! I adored reading it. It was paced and flowed well. Your use of language was excellent and the only gramatical error was the one pointed out above. Sorry for the poxy review - off to bed now, got exams in the morning...keep writing and well done ( *like*, too).
~ Amelia xxx

The one mistake I found :

Before I know it, you will be diving yourself all the way to New York to visit me. Here's a big happy birthday wish to a very special girl.