Snarklings vs the Snarkometer, Round 26

Bloody book!

While the incumbent seagull orchestra punctuated his dismay, Alex Barnes hunched deeper into his chair, plowed his feet into the New Jersey beach and resisted an urge to caress the cover of his textbook. Since a reproduction of the Minoan Snake Goddess sat on Mum's dressing table for as long as he could remember, there really wasn't any need.

incumbent seagull orchestra? there's a phrase you don't see everyday. Does it convey a hidden aspect of seagulls or set the scene? well, no. the reason it doesn't is because you've got the verb wrong. Punctuate is not a verb associated with orchestras or hearing. When you put those two things together you get something orchestras DO know about though: discord.

You've also got "hunched" "plowed" "resisted" and "remember"" in there just in case we don't think there's any action. In other words... the kitchen sink. Focus. Pare down.

Yet every passing year made his childhood fascination with the bloody thing a bit more bitter. He wasn't Da. He didn't want to sculpt or immortalize the feminine mystery, only hold it. Though, since he seemed to have a penchant for cheerfully surrendering his nuts to the wrong
possibilities, he was bound to end up a bloody eunuch anyway. Tracing the lines of the small clay figure after all, Alex curled his toes under the gritty blind. Aidan might maintain turning thirty wasn't a death blow to his dream. But Aidan didn't have to look at himself in the mirror--didn't have to ignore time parading merrily by, waving its middle finger.

I've stopped reading by now. I have no idea what is going on or where I'm supposed to look.

Face down in the sand, further muffled by salt air and sea, Leo announced, "This morning I met a woman."

Packed as the beach was--typical for Ocean City in July--a fella had to strain to hear the waves. Certain he misheard, Alex squinted in his young friend's direction. "What did you say, mate?"

"I said I met a woman," Leo repeated, "on the boardwalk."

There's your lead. Everything else is clutter.

"Not a chick or babe?" As Aidan habitually pointed out, since Leo's search contained vastly different criteria, he quite expected to find what he looked for.

"A new label for a new prospect," he observed, forcibly uncurling his toes, willing envy and pity into the sand.

This would come back with a sorry, not for us.

1 comment:

Deb said...

*heavy sigh* I hear you -- literary or not, I suspect I put too much emphasis on the candence without considering how it reads cold -- appreciate the boot (or is that stiletto?) in the butt, Miss S.