I have been reading a book lately that has been less than stellar in my mind but I keep reading, hoping that maybe the book will pick up and suddenly the wasted hours will seem like they were worth it. Unfortunately, I am about 15 pages in sight of the end and the climax is just being reached. From what I have read the climax will definitely be missing the big "wow" that it should have.
Despite being a poorly written book, it did remind me of something that seems rampant in many books where there is a whole end of the world, hero has to save us thing. The hero problem that I am talking about is the "We don't have the time we need to prepare."
For some reason, this problem has really been grating on me. Story after story, movie after movie, book after book, there is the conflict that draws the characters together...namely the end of the world. Okay, fine, I can get behind those types of stories.
In these stories there is the good side that is trying to tap the main characters and get them ready for the impending battle. And there is the bad side that spends the entire storyline plotting out ways to make the heroes fail before they get together for the final epic battle, which is also the climax of the book.
I get the premise, although I tend to avoid writing in such stark shades of black and white. In fact, I tend to feel that shades of gray are really the best way to create a gripping story. Everyone knows that white defeats black and there really is no surprise at the end when the good guys win. Sometimes it is fine and the story, if written well, makes for an enjoyable read.
However, the true gems are in those shades of grey when you wonder, will light defeat darkness and do we truly know if the person we view as the antagonist is truly one or is the hero. Yes, the story is harder to write but if there is a compassion there for all the characters, the reaction for the reader is emotional and worth the struggle of the writer. The thunderclouds of grey can lead to a kaleidoscope of color that is breathtaking to experience.
But I have kind of meandered off topic and really, my frustration comes down to those stark black and white ideas and the way that heroes are tapped at just the last second. In the book I am reading, the author even goes so far as to spell it out for the reader, just in case it wasn't clear. At one point, a character said, "This type of training takes years but there isn't the time...the battle is upon us." (Paraphrasing a bit but he did say takes years and the heroes didn't have the time to train.)
Miraculously, (hey we are dealing with the light) the heroes managed to learn the ancient skills within an hour and also managed to have sex during that time while demons are hunting them. Wow, riveting stuff.
The moment that sentence was uttered in the book, I actually sighed, rolled my eyes and put down the book, leaving it where it was to read later. First, it irritated me that the author was so blatant about the whole thing. Second, it has been done too many times. Third, what the heck is wrong with the light side?
Okay, I get it. There is suspense in wondering if the heroes will be strong enough to defeat it but unless the writer decides to kill off the main characters and have the bad guys win, then there really isn't that much suspense. There is also the whole underdog thing and we all love to root for the underdog. Unfortunately, if the character can learn what is needed in an afternoon, he is not really the underdog. In fact, he is a protege in the art of mystical powers.
My main problem is that the light doesn't seem to have their stuff together. I mean, you know the Apocalypse is going to come. You have been training people for centuries for this day, have set everything in place but you forget about the chosen one. Oh no, we didn't forget about him, we decided to tap him late in the battle to make things more interesting.
Wait, what? Why would you do that?
Chances are, they wouldn't. It just seems silly. Okay, let's leave our weapon there to rust and then right before the battle, we'll try to flake off a little of the rust and maybe we'll survive. The answer would be no. If you went onto the battlefield with a rusty blade you wouldn't make it through the first charge.
As you can tell, the whole hero problem is really a big peeve of mine. It is okay for the hero to be a little seasoned. It is okay for him to have his loss of faith, his shade of grey when maybe he doesn't know if his next foot will land in darkness or light. It is okay to think of a plot that is completely different from the last.
They say that all the ideas of been used but I really believe that if you wade out into the murky depths of grey, you can pull up a few shining gems of color that are new and exciting. Even the gem is something that has been seen before, maybe, just maybe, by working a little harder, I won't have to read the line, "This type of training takes years but there isn't the time...the battle is upon us."
Showing posts with label book. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book. Show all posts
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Lost Souls: Chapter One
Chapter One
"Oh, do not let her be like one dead, whose flesh is half eaten away when he comes from his mother's womb!" Numbers 12:12
Vancouver, Canada
January 16, 2000, 6:58am
“Aaughh,” Anna screamed as she pushed herself towards the end of the bed, the chaos in the room as nurses and doctors waited for her child to be born, left her dizzy from a lack of air. Her legs began shaking as she pushed against the wave of pain that washed across her stomach threatening to pull her apart. She could feel beads of sweat dotting her brow before pooling at her hairline. Squeezing her eyes shut, Anna could hear little pants escaping from her tight mouth in a futile effort to try to control the contraction.
“That’s it, Anna, keep pushing, your baby is almost here,” The doctor rested back on his stool, his appearance of calm authority grated on Anna and although she knew he couldn’t help her at this point, she wanted him to reach out and drag the baby from her. She couldn’t take the pain anymore and this doctor with his tidy mask and gloved hands, staring at her intently as he waited for some work to do, was more then she could bear.
Anna couldn’t believe how much pain she was in, and she was sure that it wasn’t normal. Nothing had been normal about this pregnancy or how it came to be. Nothing was normal or right. There was no father sitting beside her holding her hand and weeping with joy at the birth of his child. Simon was gone, along with his laughter and warmth, leaving her with nothing but pain as their child came into the world.
Anna looked to the side where Simon should have been and stared into the silly souvenir that was all he had left her. She couldn’t stop the tears that glistened in her eyes as she looked at the snow globe sitting on the nightstand beside her. Simon had been so serious when he had given it to her. “Give this to my child, Anna,” he had said and then he had walked out of her life leaving only a whisper where he had stood.
God, how she wanted to feel Simon’s whispers against her skin but a bigger part of her wanted to smash the snow globe as he had smashed her heart. Something had stopped her though, that part of her that still longed for him, the part that didn’t want to forget him. Her gaze shifted to the nurse, standing at her left knee. Her cold blue eyes, stared back at her with disapproval, and tears spilled down Anna’s cheeks, This can’t be it, this can’t be how my baby comes into this world. He needs to be surrounded by love and laughter, not the disapproving eyes of strangers.
The words never reached her lips as another contraction gripped her stomach and thighs, forcing her legs closed in an attempt to stop the pain. Anna writhed on the bed, her head tossing back and forth as she fought the contraction. The disapproving nurse pulled Anna’s legs apart until she was splayed again, her whispers echoing in Anna’s ears, “Just a little push, Anna and your baby will be in your arms.”
“I can’t, I can’t do this,” Anna moaned. She could feel her rich mahogany hair hanging in short sweaty spikes across her forehead; she groaned in her effort to control the contractions that wracked her body. With a scream she pushed with everything in her, feeling a sharp rip and a sudden loss not only in her body but also in her heart.
Squeezing her eyes tight, Anna breathed in. Her heart pounding out the time: one…two… three… waiting for the first cry from her child. Waiting for the doctors to do something, say something about the little soul that had been ripped from her. Her ears filled with far off murmurs as though the room had been cleared of people. Her heart drummed a tempo in her ears, drowning out the sounds in the room.
Four…Five… The space between each tempo was engulfed by a silence that was warm and heavy. Six… the silence splashed against her body like warm waves, flooding her veins with liquid sweetness. Seven…Eight… opening her eyes, she found herself drifting in the deep blue waters of some endless sea.
Ten… her tears mingled with the salt of the ocean. She felt refreshed; the tempo that had been drumming in her ears lay silent. Anna breathed in a healing sigh and reached for Simon, catching his shoulders in her grasp, his warmth ebbing through the palms of her hands and up her arms. A blond lock fell against his forehead and Anna reached up to catch the silky tendril in her fingers.
Gazing into his eyes she found the storm again. Gold lightening flashed across them. Blood ran down his nose between his turbulent eyes and Anna realized that gaping wounds circled his forehead. The blood poured out of them and dripped into the peaceful water staining it purple.
“God, no, no,” Anna thrust her hands against Simon’s forehead while her body shook in desperation. Anna gagged on her cries as the blood shot from between her fingers. “Simon,” she gasped in horrified confusion, “What’s happening?”
Simon shook his head, sadness pulling his wonderful lips into a frown as he did. He leaned towards her and Anna thought he meant to kiss her but she pulled back, afraid of what was happening. Her hands slipped from his face and Simon entwined her fingers with his. He began pushing her away from him, her body sliding easily away in the water. Pain shot up her arms as he pushed but it didn’t compare to the pain shooting towards her heart. The pain took root as he said, “No Anna, it’s time for you to wake up. It’s time for you to go and meet our son.”
Anna jerked forward, her eyes shooting open as she did. The room that had been a quiet and orderly chaos was now at full-scale war. The lights were glaring; the peaceful little birthing room of dull blues was now an unsettling mass of cloaked figures draped in blue. The harsh buzzing of alarm bells echoed through the room as hands pushed her back onto the bed. Her body felt cold and clammy, her hospital gown clung to her body, strangling her, and her arms fell limply to her sides. “Doctor, her pulse is stabilizing.”
The doctor murmured to her as he worked, “You gave us quite a scare, Anna. Where did you go?”
Anna stared at him, startled by the question. She licked her dry lips as she tried to focus on the thoughts flooding through her. Where had she gone? Smiling wistfully, she answered in a frail voice that didn’t sound like her own “I was with Simon.”
The doctor paused in his examination, focusing on her eyes as he weighed what she had said. His hands tightened painfully on her wrist in an involuntary spasm making Anna gasp in pain. “I’m sorry, Miss. Torrez,” he murmured breaking contact with her but Anna wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for her wrist or for the fact that she was obviously ill, “Let’s get you checked out.”
Backing away from her, he turned his attention to the nurse near the bed. “I want a full set of blood tests. Blood Sugar, CBC, and check her O2 stats. Get that mask back on her and get an EKG. Keep her monitored for 24 hours to see how she is doing and then we’ll decide if we need to do a CT scan. Notify me immediately if anything else happens with her.”
The nurse nodded at his instructions as the doctor gave Anna one last look before moving away to write his orders in her chart. Her mind reeled at his words, not able to close around the growing worry that she had been close to death.
My tranquil swim with Simon was nothing more than a dream turned nightmare. That’s all it was. The fatigue of labour had induced a partially sub-conscience hallucination, making me think that I had fallen asleep. My stress had changed the peacefulness I had been feeling into a nightmare. Anna comforted herself with those thoughts but another question drifted in the air before her, Are you sure it wasn’t more than a dream?
Anna left it hanging there like a thick black spider dangling on its silken thread, turning her attention instead to the line on the monitor that was happily displaying her heart rate instead. Whatever happened, I’m here now. I’m here for my son, she thought, My son!
Peering through the mass of bodies, Anna could see her son’s small face turned towards her. His eyes were wide open and blinking, and Anna was sure that when she got close enough she would see his father’s eyes staring back at her. For all his awareness, not one sound issued from his frail body. He lay there with a patient expression creasing his brow as the doctors prodded him with their instruments, taking their measurements.
The tone of their voices, gave a certainty that they were worried about the small infant on the table. Outside of his lack of crying, he seemed perfect, his skin was the red shade of all newborns, and his limbs were slowly starting to move as the cool air washed over him.
“Doctor, his heart rate is one fifty. His Apgar score is at a six."
The doctor’s terse reply was lost to the noise of the room but the tone made Anna’s heart skip a beat. She could hear Simon’s words echoing in her ears, “Meet our son, Anna, meet our son…our son.”
“Doctor, what’s wrong with my son? Why isn’t he crying? Let me see him, Oh God, please let me see him,” she cried as the nurse leaned over her to place the oxygen mask on her face. Her sobs went unanswered as the doctors worked on her son, leaving Anna to do nothing except pray.
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