z

Young Writers Society


E - Everyone

700 words from page 189 of ma book

by Jyva


Paris, France, 1798.

Late at night. A quiet house in the streets.

“You’re leaving in the morning, Corinne?”

“Yes. The dinner was enough, monsieur.”

“You’ve never told us why.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell anybody.”

“Not even the people who let you sleep in their house for free?”

“Please understand, sir.”

“Alright, then. I’ll lock you in. I’m still not convinced you aren’t just a bold thief. Please understand.”

At that, the woman gives a small smile. Fair enough. “That’s fine with me, Monsieur Brisset.”

“Long live the Emperor.”

“Long live the Emperor.”

The hinges squeak and she hears the door lock. She exhales hard and relaxes for the first time in weeks, looking around at her little room. According to Monsieur Brisset, it used to belong to his daughter before she turned of age and moved out. There’s a cute wooden dresser on the side of the room, and collection of plush toys tucked into the bed. He’d clearly loved his daughter. On the far side is a small window, and the woman steps over to it, gazing outside.

Paris.

The buildings stretched out as far as her eye could see. Down in the roads, this late at night, carriages still rattle down the cobbles and people still tread the sidewalks. It was raining lightly, but that only added to the beauty of the city. In the small pools of light found under the city’s oil lamps, small puddles make themselves visible, twinkling at her like the stars in the night sky. On the Seine River, boats gently bob on their way.

And closer to her, many, many houses. It was nothing like Pontoise, nothing like the old dirt roads and ramshackle buildings she was used to. Even so, her eyes peer through the unfamiliar streets, expecting find a familiar face. None were there. Everyone was a stranger in this huge place.

The woman leans away from the window, shrugs off her cloak, dumps her sabre on the bed and then does the same to herself.

Where to go? She had only a small handful of coins left. Everything was so expensive in Paris. She could maybe afford one more carriage ride out somewhere else, with a little convincing, but-

Knocking from downstairs. She sits up and presses her ear to the door, listening intently.

Monsieur Brisset, his voice cranky after being woken up. “Who the hell is it?!”

“Gendarmes! Open the door for us.”

The woman’s eyes widen and she quickly goes back to her bed, grabbing her cloak before pausing. Maybe they wouldn’t look up here?

“Sorry, sorry – I didn’t realise-”

“That is perfectly fine, monsieur. We are the sorry ones for waking you up in this time of night.”

“Well, what does the Emperor wish of me?”

“The gendarmerie is doing a search of every house in Paris. There is a fugitive about, one that refuses to follow the Emperor and wants to help our enemies.”

No time to lose. She dons the cloak and grabs her sabre, striding over to the window.

“…Ah. What is this name of this fugitive?”

“Josephine Feunarde. She is nineteen years old, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. Supposed to have a very memorable face.”

The window’s too small to climb through. Josephine grabs the top, tries to push it further up, but it won’t budge.

“Well, I don’t have a Josephine Feunarde in here, but there is a traveller that came just hours ago that fits your description – calls herself Corinne Lebeau.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“She’s staying here for the night – just upstairs.”

Quietness is out of the question now. The woman draws her sabre and starts hammering at the old wooden frame, trying to break it and rip it off. Crack. Crack. Crack.

“What is that?”

“She must be trying to escape – I locked the door – follow me, this way-”

It finally snaps, and Josephine pulls on the splintered wood, pulling it out. She fits one leg through, then the other, until half of her is out. She looks down. It’s a long fall.

“Get the damned thing open!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying-”

She turns to see Monsieur Brisset burst into the room with two gendarmes. Their eyes meet, and then she is gone.


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Sun Jun 19, 2016 1:00 am
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Pompadour wrote a review...



Hullo. Pompadour here for a quick review.

This is page 189 of your novel? If so, it explains why I am having difficulty in understanding who a lot of the characters are, and what the novel is about. The first two lines read like stage and setting directions in a script, so I assume they are not part of the actual novel but exist for the reader's convenience? If so, I'd advise separating them from the actual text, in order to avoid confusion (at least while this is published here).

Because you've chosen a particular passage from your novel, I'm going to assume you're looking for criticism especially for this part, and because it's important in some way? Seeing as I don't really know what's going on here, though, that makes things a little difficult! So I'll be critiquing this as I would a short story, but I do have a question, before I proceed: why this particular passage? It's definitely an exciting, fast-paced 700 words, and this person, Josephine, has obviously done something to make the emperor very cross. Even so, this does not appear to be the climax or the 'high point' of the novel, and nothing particularly important happens other than Josephine's escape. I'd honestly be more interested in the scene that follows this, that of what happens after she has successfully climbed through the window. I'm also interested in the fact that she has a sabre...? which makes me think this is likely to also be an action/adventure novel, and it's lovely to have historical fiction and action in one cooking pot.

That said, there's a lot you could work on. I don't know how far you've fleshed Josephine out, as a character, but in this particular excerpt, I saw very little internal monologue and general character-related description, aside from the plainest of actions that illustrate where the plot is headed. When I say 'character-related description', I do not mean physical description--I mean the kind of description that is warranted through a character interacting with their surroundings. This allows for a great deal of sensory description to be utilised as well, seeing as we explore the surroundings with the character. It makes things a lot more vivid as well. It also means a lot of emotive description is added, characters' reactions to their circumstances, etc. For example, when Josephine looked out of the window and saw that it was a long fall to the ground, how did she feel? Did she have the time to worry? Was she even slightly scared? Did she contemplate taking any other course of action? I'd really love to get into her head; it'd help make a tense situation all the more exciting. As it is, the sparseness of the prose didn't really engage me. Maybe this is just me, but I think it needs more 'oomph'.

You also appear to have a case of talking heads at several points in this piece. Work on that. Talking heads sap a lot of potential for characterisation and also create confusion. Nearing the end of the piece, I initially thought it was Josephine doing the talking, until I realised that it was probably the gendarmes. Some clarification wouldn't go unwanted here.

You also switch tenses in a couple of places, but that's nothing that a quick sweep through the piece won't fix.

In general, there's very little information to go on here, plot-wise. I'd be interested in seeing chapter one! I do have one more critique, which is more history-related, and that is the description of Paris as having wide, cobblestoned streets and being much more ... aesthetically pleasing than Pontoise. Until Haussman took over in the 1850s (and Paris was almost completely rebuilt, with the crumbling buildings being replaced by Napolean III's 'umbrellas of iron' and whatnot) it was not really a 'beauty'. Even afterwards, there was loads of criticism, because people said that Haussman had destroyed Paris's 'rural charm'. Conditions were actually dreadful, and didn't improve by much after the French Revolution. Napoleon I made some improvements, but in the 1790s (the period the novel is set in), the streets were mostly narrow and winding, and there were no pavements/sidewalks.

Sorry for being a pedant about this, but take a look at this.

On a similar note, stuffed toys were a thing back then, but 'plush' is a more-American sounding word that just doesn't fit the atmosphere. Thought I'd point that out.

Keep writing! Hope this helped.

~Pomp




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Sat Jun 18, 2016 1:28 am
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reikann wrote a review...



Yes.

The opening staging is reminiscent of a play, with the setting given as it is. I quite like the feel, for something outside of your main story.
Despite the fact that this is a flashback, the present tense works - it feels in the moment, a flashback from afar.
This piece has a good sense of pacing. I like the distance it has from the events. It doesn't feel like a memory, but it works.
The fragment sentences work in the action scenes - the muted tension they lend simply works.
It does bother me that we don't know why Monseiur would lend his house to a stranger - there is an implication that he's just kind and perhaps the protagonist - Josephine? - looks like his daughter. If this isn't covered later, maybe it doesn't need to be, but it feels as if Monsieur Brisset is a relevant character in the 'modern' day, so that may need to be brought up in passing at some point.
The protagonist is referred to without a name for a while, and then suddenly, she gets one! If this is because her identity is revealed, the narrative use of the name should start at the next point where the narrative calls her 'the woman'. Alternatively, never.
If the rest of your novel is written as well as this, you're in good shape!





Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new.
— Henry David Thoreau