Tinkertec's "Tears of a Rainbow" presents a mythological account of the rainbow. As a leaving, breathing rainbow, myself, I consider myself well-informed on the mythology of the rainbow, and my understanding is that Zeus's connection with the rainbow was quite different that this account. So, if you expect to learn anything from this piece, it ain't gonna happen.
As a story, this piece is nice. It piggybacks on the nearly universal role of the rainbow in cultural mythology. The rainbow is commonly a covenant, or promise, from God, just as it is in Judeo-Christian tradition. In that sense, perhaps I was wrong. Maybe you can learn from this account.
Good humor usually includes a gently made point. JWeb8969's "Dell and the Charming Hacker" is exhibit A for this principle.The wry tongue-in-cheek humor might not have readers rolling on the floor or slapping their thighs, but it is funny in its own clever way. The anthropomorphic device of attributing human traits to a computer is creative and original. I know that I have sometimes reacted my computer, Ace, as if he were human. Even now he asks, "What do you mean, AS IF I were human?" A book about 40 years old, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," by Maynard Pirsig, poses questions and answers about modern man's relationship to technological objects. The story of Dell poses some of these same questions in an entertaining way.
JayWeb says this piece received scant praise from a class on creative non-fiction. I cannot imagine why, unless perhaps the piece did not meet some technical requirements for the assignment. It is certainly creative and I imagine it is, for the most part, true.
Perhaps just a little flat, this is not on the "must list" but it is still a very nice read.
LinnAnn contributes "Sweet Water," a spare but compelling poem about rejection of faith and a mother's reaction to that rejection. The imagery of healing water and parched soil/souls is clear and powerful. The pain of the mother as each child passes without partaking communion comes through clearly. While this piece uses symbolism effectively, it is essentially direct and plain -- and heart rending.
Texas Ink contributes "One of These Days." This masterfully told story uses symbolism to relate the story of the death of Father MacKenzie. Texas Ink uses the weather, the streets, the subway station (down to the white tiles on the floor) and a mysterious stranger all to signal the priest's demise. The story creates an ominous environment suggestive of the death that ultimately happens. Literate and artful, the story line moves inexorably to its grim conclusion.
Another reviewer has commented on some careless syntax usages and run on sentences, and she is right. These lapses mar (but only slightly, in my view) an excellant example of mixing craftsmanship and art.
Emosiege contributes "Slow Death," a quintessential bit of nihilism. Not a poem and not a story, if it is anything "Slow Death" is an essay. It is very short, but the negativism and hopelessness expressed are huge. We may quarrel with the premise that the world holds only darkness, fear, and hatred. But if that premise is true we can hardly argue with the conclusions that no one cares, we are dying a slow death, and nothing really matters. There are a few grammatical and usage issues but, like Emosiege says, who cares?
Whew! I'm going to hurry back to more cheerful stuff like vampires or failed love relationships.
"I Died a Little Tonight," by The Inner Soul, explores the emotions experienced at the end of a love affair. Judging from the author's note, this particular relationship was between lesbians. Perhaps some readers will be surprised and enlightened that gays are pretty much like everyone else, at least insofar as their pain and disappointment when the love relationship ends. The author makes the point all the better by not beating us over the head with it.
For the most part the poem is technically competent. There are three stanzas of seven lines each. There is no rhyme or recognizable metric pattern. Still, the poem sounds quite good when read aloud. The second to last line has two errors: "Your" is meant as a contraction of "you are" and, as such, should be "you're." The word "cause" is used as a substitute for "because" and needs an apostrophy to signify the deleted letters, i.e. it should be "'cause." Better yet, why not use the uncontracted "you are" and "because." That usage would be more true to the standard English usage that marks the rest of your poem and you have no consistent syllable count to preserve.
Your review does what it sets out to do quite well. Your technical input is technically correct.
Speaking for myself (and, as it happens, quite a few others on this site) I prefer reviews oriented more to the readership than to the author. Of course the author gets to read it and benefit from the comments, but I prefer reviews that inform, entertain, guide, or enlighten the general readership -- more like a book review or movie review you might see in a newspaper.
Might you be willing to experiment with that approach? I think you would be good at it.
By the way, the culture of "WDC nice" sometimes takes a hit if you go this route. Honesty prevails over sugar and spice.
Amay contributes "Three Little Words." This odd little love story achieves a strange effectiveness. The beach scenes juxtapose well with the romance.
Some usage, gammar and syntax issues require comment. Amay could write stronger prose by avoiding passive verb forms. The piece has too many uses of a gerund ("ing" ending verb form) coupled with a form of the verb "to be." In the first paragraph alone we see: "were packing" ("packed" would be stronger), "were dancing" ("danced" would be stronger) and "were catching" ("caught" would be stronger). This is just in the first paragraph and there are more. Amay also over-uses the passive voice: "The point was surrounded by water" instead of the active "Water surrounded the point."
The first phrase of the third paragraph is a sentence fragment.
Sometimes we see the wrong case used in pronouns. "He wasn't sure it was her" The verb "to be" takes the subjective case, not the objective, thus, "He wasn't sure it was she" would be gramatically better. "It was she" is bad syntax also. When we speak of a person, as opposed to an object, "it" is not the way to do it. How about "He didn't even know for sure that the girl he watched was the same one he knew."
This is an example of an original and nicely descriptive piece that is infected with some unnecessary distracting errors. But it needs a competent and careful line by line edit to show itself to best advantage.
Stella Soliz contributes "Feel My Pain," a poetic expression of the mental, emotional, and physical effects of an abusive relationship.
The author wonders why she is not getting any reviews. The reason is that this intensely personal expression provides little artistic value. As far as content goes, the subject of abuse is not original and can be seen on this site quite often. This poem adds little that is new. We all know that abuse sufferers suffer from abuse. Stella Soliz brings no new artistic expression, no new metaphors or images, no new incites, and no novel solutions. She simply joins the chorus of victims.
Technically and artistically the poem is competent but unremarkable. There is no rhyme, no consistent meter, no alliteration or assonance, and, in short nothing to distinguish it.
Stella Soliz writes competently and does a good job of expressing her pain. Other than that, and we see a lot of this here at WDC, the poem lacks a spark of uniqueness, incite, or art. I suspect that is why there are not many reviews.
"One White Rose," by Airila, treats life after death.
Each of the nicely drawn characters adds his or her own perspective and stamp to the tale. Written in a spare and very economical style, the story unfolds in efficient linear increments. The concept of death emerges from a harsh enemy to an event to be welcomed.
"One White Rose" alludes to heaven but avoids any theological positioning. It is, simply, a clean and comforting vision of how death works.
In the beginning this piece appears to be a conventional contribution about a girl playing with her doll. The poet gives some early hints that the attrraction has some obsessive components, but they seem to be contained within bounds of childhood play.
The poem gradually progresses into more serious territory. It raises the question whether the "doll" is, in fact, a dead body. Whether it is or is not, the poem suggests that this relationship is necrophiliac to the point where the narrator fantasizes her own death and longs to take the place of her doll.
The poem is technically adequate. The centrality of this contribution lies in its oddly chilling pathology.
In his review request Mr. McAfee asks reviewers to state what they believe happens in this piece.
The action line is never spelled out with any specificity, so that is a fair question. We know that the narrator has a blood obsession (or at least a pre-occupation). We know that he has a serious (fatal?) illness and a death fascination. She began screaming and he responds, "There are some sacrifices we can't just wasl away from." My conclusion, and I think I can make a pretty stron literary case for it, is that the narrator kills his lover before he, himslef, dies.
The piece suffers from over-use of passive verbs. Let's just take the first paragraph:
"The clouds were painted in long and violent strokes across the sky. The fading light of dusk spilled reds, violets, and oranges over the heavens. The air was thick with the smell of coming rain. In the late-afternoon haze, I could feel the essence of time dragging me along in to the brewing storm."
Try it like this: "Sunset painted the clouds in long and violent strokes against the sky. The fading light spilled reds, violets, and oranges over the heavens. Coming rain thickened the air with its smell.In the haze I felt time drage me into the brewing storm."
There are disconcerting switches from the present tense to the past tense and back again. If these were intentional I would re-examine the reason and consider a consistent tense. If they were unintentional I would fix them.
Mr. McAfee is a fine descriptive writer, with a good imagination and an extensive vocabulary, all of which he uses to good advantage.
"Rush Hour," by Bob Saget, is an imaginative and fun piece of fluff about a romance that begins, progresses, and ends in a rush hour traffic jam. I bet just about all of us have had these little fanciful harmless encounters in traffic. Bob Saget takes it to the next level, but, like all of these little dalliances, it dies a painless natural death leaving only a wisp of a memory.
This piece has all of the insight and freshness of something you might hear from a really good stand-up comedian. It brings to the surface events not usually articulated in everyday life. Like the author, I, for one, wonder if this sort of thing really happened or was it just a rush hour traffic fantasy? This is one of those pieces that makes you ask, "Why can't I write stuff like that?"
The story is well-conceived, well planned, and well-executed.
Scarlet contributes "The Bench," a short story rich with symbolism. The bare bones of the story are simple: a man has a son and begins sharing material values with him. They form a vision of the future. The boy dies and the old man's dream dies with him.
The genius of the story is in Scarlet's use of symbolism to reinforce the story. The Man and his son ist on a park bench as the father shares values and vision with his son. They do this in the presence of trees with ever changing leaves. The bench symbolizes constancy and stability. The soundness of the father's financial basis and the fir and regular relationship with the son exemplify this solidity. The leaves, as they go through seasonal changes, symbolize change. They bud, mature, change color, and eventually blow off and die to different fates.
As the father sits on the bench and grieves his lost son, the last leaf on the tree falls to catch the tears of the father.
Thus Scarlet develops and comunicates themes of life, life's cycle, death, and change.
"A Field in Winter," by TWRussell, captures the image and feel of a bleak winter scene. It is exceptionally good.
These two three line stanzas are probably intended as Haiku. If so, then they are "Western" Haiku or "modern" Haiku in the Jack Kerouac sense. They do not religiously follow the Japanese 5-7-5 syllable format. These verses do, however, capture the "aha" essence of Haiku with its image of a solitary blackbird hunched in the wind and of a daub of night on the oil painting of the field. The picture is powerful and artistic.
Otakon contributes "Of Fates and Destinies." The poet states his view that personal choice is a much larger factor that destiny, fate, or deity in life.
As an author currently writing about a character trapped in a story, I have recently done a lot of thinking about the importance of choice and accountability, as contrasted with destiny and pre-ordination in life. I conclude that we are all trapped in stories in one form or another: the story of our demographics, our value formations, our natural abilities and inclinations, and on and on. There are aspects of our personal stories beyond our control.
On the other hand, we all have the power to influence the direction and outcome of our stories. Deliberate choices and life planning help with this. But so do our fantasies, our aspirations, our imaginations, and our dreams. Yes, and our spiritual choices help determine outcome.
Otakon is not "wrong." But neither is he complete in his little formula of self-determinism. Still, it is a thought-provoking piece and worthy on that ground alone.
TJ Friend's "Engagement" is a light treatment of a marriage proposal.
The contribution brings a nice unforced rhyme scheme. A light poem like this could benefit from a consistent and recognizable metric pattern. Even a sing-song, heavy meter often enhances humor.
If you are looking for some greater meaning or metaphorical significance you will have to find it somewhere else. But this unpretentious little piece is entertaining and may evoke some memories of marriage proposal.
Congratulations on "Perfect Lilacs." This poem manages to be direct and understandable, symbolically satisfying, artistic, emotional, and entertaining all at the same time.
I, too, find lilacs to be a particularly evocative -- even to the point of distraction. You may enjoy "Room 218," a vignette in my portfolio, which references lilacs.
"A Love that Could Not Be," by Wally Setter, is a creative and well-told version of the forbidden love theme -- Romeo and Juliet, Samson and Delilah, Sir Lancelot and Guinevere, and now Robert and Lisa.
In this piece Wally Setter takes a poke at prejudice, whether in the form of racial prejudice, age prejudice, or just about any cross-cultural bias that dictates who may love whom. He shows it but doesn't quite tell it.
This short piece is executed exquisitely in every way -- action, dialog, characters, everything.
TWRussell contributes "Silence Lay Waiting," a creative short story. The concept of this story is better than its execution. There are too many weak verbs and gerunds (I counted fifteen gerunds in this short piece). TWRussell uses too many adjectives and adverbs that add little. I took the liberty of a re-write of the first paragraph. The original: "It was a little after two-thirty in the morning when I pulled into the driveway in front of the big old house downtown where my best friend and I were renting the upstairs apartment. Jimmy and I had grown up in this little town and used to ride our bikes past this house on our way to the little five-and-dime to buy candy when we were only eight. Jimmy's car was in his usual spot and I parked next to it in my truck and turned off the engine. My work boots made a crunched softly in the pea gravel, and instead of slamming the door, I closed it gently and leanded into it to make the latch catch."
The proposed re-rewrite: "At 2:36 a.m. I pulled into the driveway of the old house downtown where my best friend, Jimmiy and I rented the upstairs apartment. We grew up in this town. As eight-year-olds we biked past this house to the little five-and-dime to buy candy. Now Jimmy's car occupied its usual spot. I parked my truck next to it, turned off the motor, and got out. I closed the truck door quietly. My work boots softly crunched in the pea gravel."
The same use of weak verbs and wordiness appears throughout. The story might be improved by use of the present tense for the primary narrative.
The reference to "Jimmy's Sara" is obscure. If Sara is a dog or cat you might want to foreshadow the story by missing the usual greeting, or meeow, or baleful stare of the pet when the narrator first enters the apartment.
What had the narrator been doing? Were there any warnings or suspicious signs? What had Jimmy been doing? Were there other killings or disappearances in the city? Were there newspaper or television stories?
Done right, attrention to these details can enhance the plot and heighten the suspense.
"Silence Lay Waiting" bears the essence of a very readable and entertaining story. Its lack of careful and caring execution is curable. With a little effort TWRussell could be a real star.
Sinchoe contributes "Another Summers Day." How about "Another Summer Day" or even "Another Summer's Day" for a title?
The piece is more vignette than story, and that is fine. It speaks of the frustration and isolation of the stay-at-home mom as the children begin to achieve independence. Hostility and rebellion are more sensed under the surface than specifically acted out. The husband's physical absence on business aggravates the solitude.
Except for an undertow of mother-child tension, there is no real conflict or tension to resolve. There is no build-up of suspense or other dramatic sequence of events. And without conflict, there is no resolution. But wait, calls my other brain, the conflict is eternal. Avoidance of explict conflict is both the challenge and the tension. The mother is trapped and may be only paartially aware of the depth and scope of that trap. The dog's tepid attention at the end of the story serves to italicize the trap, not to resolve it.
This is a sensitive, introspective, empathetic, and thought-provoking piece.
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