The double doors were firmly closed, but she paused before ringing the bell. There was a green-tinged brass knocker, in the shape of a man’s face. But the face was formed by leaves – a Green Man, her memory dredged the name from somewhere. The panels in the doors were also ornate, carved with falling leaves, twisting and curling in a breeze she could not feel. For a moment Sophie thought she saw movement and pulled back. The light, she assured herself, or her mind playing tricks on her. She had set her alarm an hour earlier this morning to make it across the city in rush hour and so be on time. And she had not slept well last night. She clutched her bag a little closer and reached for the bell.
quote:
The name was interwoven with leaves in an arch above the wrought iron gates
Were there real leaves growing through the name, or was it fancy metalworking?
I didn't read the second paragraph. Although I'm not exactly hooked, the writing is good enough that I would probably continue to read, at least for a while.
--Mel
Would you mind terribly giving me a spoiler? I would like to know if the Green Man is part of the story. I know, I should just be looking at the first 13 lines, but I'm interested in that bit of folklore.
I don't know why she pauses before she rings the bell, if it's because of the knocker or some other hesitation. I'm willing to trust that you will tell me soon about why she hadn't slept well, and why it was important to be on time. But you need to tell me soon, or I'll feel cheated that Sophie knows things that I don't.
I would keep reading though--but I can't. Let me know if you want a second string reader on this. I should be caught up by then.
Of course, I like older books that start out that way. I may not be able to read Dickens anymore, but I do like description inmy sotries, not just action. There are so many different types of readers out there, it's not easy for me to know if I can reach my audience either. I would like to read more, if you need a reader.
MCameron and wbriggs - i was a little confused - are you free to read? Thanks abby. I will send it on tonight.
Mary, I'll check back with you when I have a further draft, or alternatively, please let me know when you're free. I'd really appreciate the feedback.
Thanks
R
[This message has been edited by RFLong (edited June 29, 2005).]
can you send me an email address where I can send the story? Thanks
R
Abby
Talk to you soon
R
Not at the expense of good characterization, certainly. But some modest further revelations about Sophie's thoughts (like what she had expected, and why) should be enough for now.
There are some mild problems with the description. For instance, I didn't know that there was a wall enclosing a garden between the street and the library until you mentioned the gate. Perhaps I should have known, but that's not the point. More careful attention to what Sophie is seeing would serve both to enhance her POV and to detail the scene better.
I'll read, if you're okay with a bit of uncertainty about exactly when I'll get back to you.
The library building was not what Sophie had expected. As she closed the car door and looked up the narrow path, it looked like nothing more than a Georgian town house, positioned incongruously in the middle of a twenty first-century city centre. [There's an opening here to contrast the reality with her expectations.][This next could then probably be a new paragraph.] The road between her parking space and her destination was jammed with traffic and she picked her way cautiously across. The name [Of what? The road or her destination?] was interwoven with leaves [Real or metal or what?] in an arch above the wrought iron gates – Ayredale Special Collection. She stepped through its [Whose? The arch or the gate's shadow?] cool shadow, back into golden sunlight and the traffic sounds faded away, screened by high hedges of yew. She walked up the narrow path, past beds crowded with marigolds and geraniums, violent reds and golds.
The double doors were firmly closed, but she paused before ringing the bell. There was a green-tinged brass knocker, in the shape of a man’s face. But [Why 'but?'] the face was formed by leaves – a Green Man, her memory dredged the name from somewhere. The panels in the doors were also ornate, carved with falling leaves, twisting and curling in a breeze she could not feel. [I like that, but I'd wonder why she would expect to feel it.]For a moment Sophie thought she saw movement and pulled back. The light, she assured herself, or her mind playing tricks on her. She had set her alarm an hour earlier this morning to make it across the city in rush hour and so be on time. And she had not slept well last night. [This seems out of place.] She clutched her bag a little closer and reached for the bell.
Since I don't know what Sophie's feeling, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be feeling. From the 'violent' colors of the flowers, I'm guessing there's something dastardly behind this quiet beginning. The Green Man seems to be the hook.
The writing is pleasant, coherent. I'd be willing to read, if you're still looking for readers.