Enthusiasm,
So first, some notes on my reviews. I'm going to dig into this story a bit more then the previous one: ya pays the price (in GPs), ya rides the ride! Hopefully it doesn't spoil any of your wonderful emotional magic tricks. My reviews are generally not the same twice. Why? Because I get bored if I work from a template. I try to maintain some logical order, but I might jump around a little. So here's how I do it: image you and I are sitting at the kitchen table with some coffee or tea. Notebooks and pencils and laptops are kind of all over the place. You paw through a notebook and hand me this story, saying, "Here, whaddya think of this?"
Hmm... Well, lemme grab another cuppa coffee see what we got here...
This is another story that gave me chills—so wonderful! The cinema of which you wrote was so much sadness, so much sadness. This scene at the seashore is much stronger, a veritable emotional beating! Your writing is just as effective in an even shorter space; but there is a change of tone, and I think that's good, toherwise it's just the same story with different names, right? Yes, there is a slight change—there is anger in this piece. That anger drives more action this time around. And it was that undertone of anger that left me with a distinct feeling of vindication at the end, along with a deep sadness. This scene is a contest, a zero-sum battle with the past. But no one ever wins a battle. Everybody loses. And apologies go unsung.
You've chosen exquisite images again. The way you contrast objects via a verb is divine, like this: "The townsfolk collected these compositions in jars, hung them from porch rafters, and pretended not to hear the words hidden in the harmonies." Changing the music into some physical was another of your signature perspectives. They are absolutely incredible.
~ "...her mother’s cigarette smoke curling into eighth rests..."
~ "Its waves hummed lullabies in minor keys, and its tides left sheet music etched in seaweed..."
~ "...a single line of sheet music, its notes shaped like apologies."
Compared to the cinema in Lichthaven, the strand here in Selithyre is more transparent, psychologically. That's not a bad thing, don't get me wrong. The cinema was densely packed with layer after layer of regret, sadness, pain, and helplessness. This is less dense, though by no means less emotional. The familial relationships in your stories are heartbreaking. Nessa can do no right, and her mother can show no love. I mean, indifference would be kinder than telling your child "You’ll never be more than a missed note." Jesus, that's brutal!
Now, in this story, we have hope of salvation. Father gives her the key to set herself free: become your own woman, not the woman you could never make her want you to be. But—and this is brilliant to me, because I'm about as cheerful as a dying calf in a hailstorm—forgiveness was not the key! Oh, how powerfully, horribly true! Said salvation is communicated with good differentiation, too. Nessa's defiance against her mother "shrieks" and "warps," and her mother's sneers echo back through time mockingly. But father's voice is small and composed, symphonic. (One wonders if there is any reference at all here to that "still, small voice" written of in the Bible.)
But salvation is refused, another clear psychological lensing into the culture of abuse, repression, defiance, self-harm. Yeah, it's all those things, but it's something else, too—it's real, painfully real.
Hang on, my coffee's getting cold... ... ...Okay, that's better.
I did notice a couple of things in the tide that bear mentioning.
~ There was one glaring thing that snapped me out of this for a minute—the word "tactile." The vocbulary and phrasing you use is enchantingly diaphanous, like the wind, free of shape and full of intent. "Tactile" was like have a stick blown in my eye; it's so deliberate, so rigid. Is there a better word to use in this context? "Palpable," maybe? I'm not sure, but for me, "tactile" was exactly the wrong word.
~ Similarly, but far less starkly, "barnacled" just felt wrong. Because of the consonants, maybe? Maybe...
~ I mentioned the mood before. The mood in this story was heavy, heavier than Lichthaven. Be careful not to brutalize your reader. If Mother had sniped at Nessa one or two more times, I might have finished reading the story only as a courtesy to you, not as a devotee to the wonderful prosetryishness of it.
~ The last thing should have been the first thing, probably. "Our Throats" seemed extraneous in the title. Maybe it has a particular meaning... Does it imply that we don't speak when we should, don't defend ourselves? That the weight of those unspoken words chokes us and kills us inside, perhaps? I think those two words feel like an afterthought because we're so used to the old phrase "the ties that bind," which you also play on. Adding to such a common phrase feels awkward. That's all just an observation, mind you, not something that is "incorrect."
Again, there's lines in here I just keep going back to to reread and re-experience. I could probably cut and paste the whole story into this section, but these are some good examples:
~ “You’re breaking the wrong things,” she said. We do this so often, and so badly. We will wreck ourselves just to try to impact someone else.
~ "...oysters spilling from her palms." All those uncollected pearls of wisdom. Superb, superb metaphor, so beautifully nuanced that it could easily go unnoticed by the careless reader.
~ "...the violin case beside her filled with saltwater and starfish." This is a perfect snap back to reality for the reader. Well...something very close to reality anyway.
Which makes me wonder—in a deliciously thoughtful way—why these women in Lichthaven and Selithyre experience the world in such fantastical visions. Are they crazy? Are these hallucinations? Are they temporarily crazy, working through extreme trauma (in or out of hospital)? Is this just the way they have to think of these devastating pasts to keep from going crazy? Well, I'll never know, but each read will make me ask them again and look for answers...and come up with new answers every time!
You knocked my socks off again with this piece. I wonder if this one will follow me, too? Because last night, I fell asleep thinking about and feeling the cinema of tears—quite literally. When your stories impact us that hard...my word, you must, must Write On!
--Jeffrey
(Disclaimer: This is all meant to be constructive and respectful. If you have felt offended in any way...you can come to my house and beat me over the head with a wet violin!)
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