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antishurtugal_rebornWho wants to bet this whole arc, or at least the fact that it centers around a fish, came out of the pun that is this chapter’s title?
Our last chapter ended with Murtagh running away from the scene of his completely unnecessary grave-robbing. This is a much better way to end a chapter than Paolini’s favored method of Protagonist Unconsciousness. For best results, it should be followed up with a) a scene break to the character post-escape, or b) a continuation of the scene where they must now evade pursuers.
Paolini picks neither of these.
Murtagh ran until the burning in his lungs forced him to slow to a quick walk. Then he ran again, then walked, then ran. In like fashion, he hurried back to the hollow where Thorn was waiting.
It’s only three sentences, relatively small and unembellished for Paolini, and yet in those three sentences he has managed to kill all narrative momentum. This is nothing but an obvious and unnecessary literary tendon. Here’s how I would have done it.
By the time he staggered back into the hollow, Murtagh’s lungs were burning and his legs shook from exhaustion. At least, it seemed, he had not been followed.
THERE, I FIXED IT. This not only shortens the paragraph, but conveys a time skip and deescalation without completely sacrificing tension.
Zooming out from that particular needling annoyance, much of the first couple sections of this chapter could be neatly excised with no harm to the surrounding organism. In the first section, there’s some filler dialogue, Murtagh shows Glaedr’s scale to Thorn, and they reminisce a bit. In the second, they fly over Isenstar Lake (the name of which will never not irritate me) and fail to attract Muckmaw’s attention by dangling the scale into the water by the shore, so Murtagh rubs some dirt on his face to look like a peasant and heads back into the city to gather information.
One thing that keeps bugging me in this section is the level of description. It’s supposed to be nighttime with only a crescent moon, yet the descriptions are no less precise for it. I suppose Murtagh is likely keener of eye than the average human, what with being a Rider and all, but I don’t really have enough faith in Paolini to think he did that intentionally instead of just forgetting to adjust his level of detail to the time of night.
Also, while the prose is overall a bit less purple than the Cycle, we do get this description of Gil’ead’s city lights…
Murtagh glanced back toward Gil’ead. A scattered constellation of lanterns and torches lit the city, forming a warm welcome in the darkness. If he were a fisherman, he thought the sight would have been comforting indeed.
I like “scattered constellation of lanterns and torches”, but “forming a warm welcome in the darkness”? What does that even mean?
This is a great illustration of why Paolini’s purple prose annoys me, while Tolkien’s doesn’t. When Tolkien writes in purple prose, it feels natural, as if this way of speaking is simply the Professor’s particular idiom. He chooses these words because they are, in his eyes, the best ones to convey what he is trying to describe.
Paolini’s purple prose does not sound natural. When Paolini uses purple prose, it sounds forced and awkward, like he’s making a point of it to seem cultured and profound. It’s the literary equivalent of a child trying to seem bigger and tougher by wearing his dad’s huge jacket. Unfortunately, in both cases, it only serves to accentuate what the person is trying to hide. The coat hangs loosely from the child’s shoulders, much of its volume empty; the prose fills the page but draws only confused frowns from readers.
As if to accentuate this, when Murtagh gets ready to head back to Gil’ead, Thorn says “Clever fails more often than simple.” The sheer lack of self-awareness in Christopher Paolini, who struggles so mightily to sound clever, having a character say that is staggering. Hell, that line is even itself an attempt to sound clever! Alanis Morrissette, eat your heart out.
There’s really little else of interest here besides the very end of the second section and the aforementioned grime-smearing. Let’s start with the latter.
Squatting, Murtagh dug a handful of moist dirt out from under the grass and rubbed it into his hands and onto his face. He hated the feel of the grime, but it would help age him and make him look more like a commoner.
Yeah, I’m honestly at a loss for what to do with that.
I will say, though: why didn’t Murtagh think of this before? Hell, why did he not think of gathering information about the fish before? Murtagh isn’t the kind of person who just jumps right into a task blind. That’s Eragon.
As for the way this section ends… well, I think I’ll just illustrate by doing an edit.
And he set out at a steady trot, again heading toward Gil’ead.
Behind him, Thorn let out a concerned growl.
*clears throat*
Thorn’s concerned growl sent a pang through his heart as he set out once more for Gil’ead.
THERE, I FIXED IT. Though really, the best fix for all of this would be to completely rewrite this entire part of the book.
Anyway, on to section three, which comprises the majority of the chapter and has the most reason to exist out of all of them. Not that that’s saying much in this interminably unnecessary Part II of this interminably unnecessary book.
Murtagh gets into Gil’ead by climbing up onto a dock and sneaking past a watchman who’s too busy smoking. I’m side-eyeing the description of how he does this, but it’s not really important. What’s important is that Murtagh is looking for that staple of fantasy settings, the standard gathering place for information and party members alike: a tavern. Of course, because Paolini likes to pad things out, all the ones he finds are closed for the night, and there aren’t even any drunk patrons stumbling about in the streets.
Instead, we get another encounter with the street urchins from back in “Hostile Territory”. It’s not explicitly stated that they recognize Murtagh despite the grime, but I get the impression that they do, and Murtagh doesn’t exactly help matters by making it very clear that he recognizes them.
Murtagh asks them what they’re doing this late at night, and the kids say they’re trying to get food for their mother. Murtagh thinks they’re trouble, but pulls out a couple “coppers” and hands them over in exchange for being pointed to the nearest open tavern. This isn’t quite an interaction my Murtagh would have when it comes to the fine details, but there are shades of it, a similar sort of instinctive placing of himself in a protective role even when he senses something amiss. I don’t entirely hate it.
The nearest tavern is apparently called the Rusty Anchor. It’s farther away than Murtagh thought, a detail which feels tacked in just to pad the word count. Murtagh checks his dagger out of habit, but of course it’s gone, and he has a bit of a moment where he thinks about how dangerous it is to go into this sort of establishment unarmed. Which leads to… this.
Of course, now he was the sort of person that others needed to be afraid of. He couldn’t lie to himself: the thought wasn’t entirely unpleasant. After the past few years, Murtagh would settle for inspiring fear if it would keep him and Thorn safe.
This is not my Murtagh. I don’t think I even need to explain why.
Hell, it doesn’t even really make sense for his Murtagh! Why is he only now the kind of person others need to be afraid of? Murtagh was a capable fighter from well before the moment he was introduced!
Anyway, Murtagh enters the tavern, and it is a shitty place that smells like shit. I think I may have used Dennis the Peasant a bit too early. The barkeep is asleep, with an annoying parenthetical about how Murtagh knows his snoring is loud enough to wake a dragon, but he perks up the second Murtagh puts money on the counter because of course he does. This leads to perhaps one of the most cliched exchanges I’ve seen in a Paolini book, and that’s saying something.
“Beer,” said Murtagh. “Cheapest you’ve got.”
“Cheap is all we ‘ave got,” said the barkeep, slowly getting to his feet. He had a pregnant paunch that stretched his apron as tight as a drum. He made the coppers disappear in his pudgy hands and gave Murtagh half a copper in return. Then he grabbed a mug that looked none too clean and filled it from the cask.
Generic drink order? Check. Barkeep has a transcribed lower-class accent? Check. Barkeep is described as fat and slovenly? Check. Money handling described as sketchily as possible? Check. Shitty unwashed mugs? Check. Pouring from a cask? Check, check, check. I think I’ve won Fantasy Dive Bar Bingo.
Also, a pregnant paunch? Ewwwww. Yes, I know this is supposed to be gross, but that is well over the threshold of gross. Maybe I’m biased because of my tokophobia, but come on. Has Paolini been reading Bukowski?
The beer is flat, because of course it is. Murtagh carries it over to a table by the nearly-dead fire, and some mercenary patrons strike up a conversation with him by asking if he came in with a caravan, and he goes along with it, dropping in some proper Sue-praise as he does:
“The road is fine. Dusty, that’s for sure. We made do without anyone waylaying us, so I reckon the queen’s men are doing a good job of keeping order.”
Don’t think I missed that, Paolini.
Really, though, bringing up politics even in such a tangential way seems like a risky move. Murtagh knows nothing about these sellswords and their political opinions. He also isn’t up to date on how this area’s been faring; for all he knows, there’s been a rash of bandit raids lately and saying he didn’t get waylaid will only make him sound suspicious.
The mercenaries even give each other a look that seems “somewhat conspiratorial” when Murtagh says this. Which my Murtagh wouldn’t, because he’s smarter than that.
#NotMyMurtagh quickly ropes the fishermen present into the discussion by saying a fellow caravan-guard wouldn’t shut up about the good fishing in the lake and how dangerous dropping a line would be thanks to Muckmaw. They’re not particularly forthcoming, so he has to buy everyone a round to loosen lips. He also makes a point of introducing himself by a new name.
“Oreth son of Brock,” said Murtagh. He figured it wise to start using a name other than Tornac around Gil’ead.
Readers are not morons, Paolini. Cut that last sentence. We can figure it out.
I should note that in this lead-up to the tale, one of the fishermen addresses his two friends by names, but those names will not be used for the rest of the chapter, nor will he himself get one. Instead, he is “cardus-chewer,” and the one of his friends who gets more than one line definitely attributed to him is “scarred fisherman.” Note that I said “definitely attributed”. This is because there are a few lines that are ambiguously attributed, one to “his [cardus-chewer’s] friend” and one to “the fisherman.” From context, the former is likely to be from “scarred fisherman” and the latter is almost certainly “cardus-chewer”, but given that they’re all fisherman who appear to be drinking buddies, these tags are a bit ambiguous. This is sloppy writing.
With that mentioned, though, let’s get into the actual dialogue.
Even with the round bought, there’s a whole diatribe about how the best person to ask would be a certain septuagenarian fisherman who’s probably long since asleep. Thankfully, we do eventually get past this padding and on to the actual tale that lends the chapter its title.
Muckmaw, according to “cardus-chewer”, is a sturgeon or sturgeon-like thing almost as long as a boat. Or, to use his words, “ten paces from tip to butt and about three paces across the beam.” Yes, I have taken the liberty of excising yet another transcribed accent.
“Paces” are a rather imprecise unit of measurement, but sources around the Internet tell me they can be as small as three quarters of a meter or as long as one and a half meters. So by “cardus-chewer”s reckoning, Muckmaw is 7.5 to 15 meters long and 2.25 to 4.5 meters wide. The largest sturgeon ever recorded in real life was a female beluga sturgeon measuring in at 7.2 meters. And most don’t get even half that big.
I see Paolini’s tendency to attempt to make things feel legendary merely by making them large is rearing its ugly head again.
Apparently Muckmaw gets its name from the mud and silt that’s always falling off its mouth when it comes near the surface, and it’s done all sorts of things from cutting nets and ramming boats to… scooping up herons? I thought you just said he was a bottom-feeder, Paolini.
As the fishermen make fun of one of their acquaintances who was nearly killed by Muckmaw, the street urchins from earlier slip into the tavern and Murtagh notices that they look like one of the sellswords. Anyone keeping track of this little side plot probably has an inkling where this is going, but trust me, you are not prepared for exactly how Paolini does it. We'll get there when we get there, though, we need to get the backstory on our fishy foe.
“Cardus-chewer” tells another story about how about sixty years ago, when this old fisherman was a kid, he and a couple of other boys who’d been fishing decided to see how long it would take for their haul to suffocate on land. As they were waiting, watching the fish gasp for water, a red-haired man with pointy teeth walked out of the forest. Murtagh immediately realizes this is Durza, though obviously he doesn’t say as much, instead taking a moment to give some recap for any new readers. Durza joined the boys in watching the fish suffocate until there was only one left. Then he picked up that one, put it back in the lake, and told the boys it would torment them from then on for being such little shits.
Because of course the fucking fish has to have Le Epic Backstory that ties it to already-established characters.
Anyway, whatever spells Durza cast on this fish have apparently made it too smart to trap and immune to hooks, spears, and arrows. Du Vrangr Gata, whose name the random scarred fisherman with a transcribed bumpkin accent surprisingly knows and can pronounce, haven’t done anything about it because, as we’ve always said, the Varden don’t actually care about the concerns of the common people. The local “hedge-witch”, meanwhile, is a healer who wouldn’t be able to do much about a giant, murderous fish full of Shade-spells. So the only way it’ll get done is if “an elf or a Rider” does it.
“An’ they’re all busy elsewhere,” said cardus-chewer sadly.
“Be glad of it,” replied his friend. “Their kind only cause rack and ruin.”
I have to agree with Fisherman #2 here. To the vast majority of Alagaësia, all elves and Riders seem to do is fuck shit up.
Murtagh thanks them for the story and asks where not to go fishing if he doesn’t want to get Muckmaw’d. The fishermen tell him the whole lake is dangerous, but there’s a particular marshy stretch along the shore, “nearwise where th’ elves cleared out th’ last of Galbatorix’s soldiers” and for fuck’s sake now he’s gonna rip off the Dead Marshes, isn’t he? Fucking hell.
In one of the ambiguously-attributed lines, one of the fishermen (probably “cardus-chewer”) seems to guess at Murtagh’s intentions, because he tells Murtagh that he wouldn’t want to see him killed by Muckmaw. This is kind of a nice moment, because it’s not that common to see genuine sparks of human sympathy in Paolini characters.
It’s a nice note on which to end a section.
We gloss over the rest of Murtagh’s time at the tavern. He stays to finish his beer because just up and leaving once the story was done would be weird, and notices that the sellswords exchange some suspiciously hushed conversation and leave surreptitiously. The street urchins, meanwhile, are playing jacks and pretend to ignore Murtagh when he heads toward their place by the fire. The barkeep is asleep at the bar again, so Murtagh sneaks a piece of firewood and heads out.
Sure enough, the two sellswords try to jump him. Murtagh trounces them easily, and then…
His teeth drew back in a snarl, his blood molten in his veins. He strode back to bird-chest and kicked him in the side. And again. And again. A shout of rage and frustration burst forth from him as he swung his leg.
One or more ribs cracked against his shin.
He knelt and grabbed the man by the hair. Bird-chest’s eyes rolled, and red bubbles popped at the corners of his mouth. His lips moved in a mute attempt to plead for mercy.
“Be a better father,” Murtagh growled. “Or next time, I’ll beat you worse than this, you worthless sack of filth.”
That… is NOT my Murtagh.
I get what Paolini was going for with this. He was going for Murtagh raging against terrible parents because, as a son of a terrible father, their failings hit too close to home. What he got, though, was a wildly disproportionate beating that does not fit with Murtagh’s character and what we’ve seen of this man. Sure, this guy has been sketchy, but when exactly did we see him mistreat his children?
Unless this was supposed to come across as inappropriate, in which case I call character assassination.
#NotMyMurtagh takes the guy’s purse and dagger just as his kids come out of the tavern. They are, understandably, shocked and angry.
“Get away from him!” the smaller one shouted, and threw a handful of pebbles. Several bounced off Murtagh’s shoulders.
#NotMyMurtagh tells the kids their dad needs help and runs off to the docks, where the adrenaline wears off and he has a bit of a, uh… moment.
He almost wished he’d killed the man. The children might have been better off because of it. Or maybe not. It was impossible to know. All he could be certain of was that he hated the man and his brutish stupidity.
I honestly can’t even with this. One of those kids threw pebbles at you for beating up their dad. That’s not the act of a child who’s scared of his father, but one who loves his father. Is the father a bad influence on them by roping them into his mugging schemes? Absolutely, that’s a bad thing and he should indeed be a better father and a more honest person in general. But he doesn’t seem to be trying to hurt them, and if he died they may well have no one but each other. Maybe the narcoleptic barkeep would keep them around to clean the tavern or something, but that’s no guarantee they’ll have a comfortable life, or that they won’t continue to need to beg or steal. Especially if that “sick mother” story they told has any grain of truth to it.
Moving on. We’ve only got about a half a page left.
#NotMyMurtagh reports everything to Thorn, who makes a snarky remark about him getting in fights. The initial exchange is decent, I guess, but coming off the previous bit of bullshit even giving praise that faint feels almost wrong.
They lay out their next course of action a little, which is just redundant considering we all know what the side quest objectives are. Unfortunately, Thorn gets a little overly excited, and before #NotMyMurtagh can tell him to wait, he’s taking off. Oh shit, Thorn’s loud wingbeats might get them discovered!
Yeah, all the tension that chapter end might have managed to build is about to get absolutely pissed away. But we’ll hear about that in the next chapter spork, which will be written by the inimitable Epistler.
The more I read of this section of the book, the more unnecessary it feels. Knowing what lies beyond it, though, I can’t help but wonder whether I’ve been dragging my feet on these sporks because there’s worse to come. But with a new year coming in and a new book apparently in the works, it’s high time to ramp this up.
Until next time, my friends.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-01 10:31 am (UTC)Good to see you back again!
It’s only three sentences, relatively small and unembellished for Paolini, and yet in those three sentences he has managed to kill all narrative momentum. This is nothing but an obvious and unnecessary literary tendon.
Could that be a misapplied "show, don't tell" rule, in that Paolini thinks he needs to show us this?
In the second, they fly over Isenstar Lake (the name of which will never not irritate me) and fail to attract Muckmaw’s attention by dangling the scale into the water by the shore,
Which they should have known wouldn't work, so of course Murtagh exposits all the failings to us (so we can know just how stupid it was).
I like “scattered constellation of lanterns and torches”, but “forming a warm welcome in the darkness”? What does that even mean?
I guess it means the same as the next sentence... which is a problem, since he isn't a fisherman and has no special attachment to Gil'ead.
As if to accentuate this, when Murtagh gets ready to head back to Gil’ead, Thorn says “Clever fails more often than simple.”
Not that Murtagh ever takes this to heart!
...Come to think of it, this really does feel like Eragon's Teirm subplot, but considerably worse.
Of course, now he was the sort of person that others needed to be afraid of. He couldn’t lie to himself: the thought wasn’t entirely unpleasant. After the past few years, Murtagh would settle for inspiring fear if it would keep him and Thorn safe.
Even with the backstory this Murtagh and Thorn have, I do not think it fits well, though I can't exactly say why... Tagentially, I have the sense that they think they have less power and influence than they actually have. They're a Rider and dragon, after all; no matter how hated they are, some people, at least, would be attracted to them because of their potential for power.
with an annoying parenthetical about how Murtagh knows his snoring is loud enough to wake a dragon
So he did wake up Thorn with his snoring once? I don't recall hearing more about his snoring... Nope, doesn't come up again.
This leads to perhaps one of the most cliched exchanges I’ve seen in a Paolini book, and that’s saying something.
Yes, it's even more clichéd than the conversation with Gareth the barkeep in Eragon. At least there, Martin interrupted to give actual information.
and the one of his friends who gets more than one line definitely attributed to him is “scarred fisherman.”
Who got that scar from getting bitten by Muckmaw with his... "bony plates". I guess it's possible, but it still feels weird.
Muckmaw, according to “cardus-chewer”, is a sturgeon or sturgeon-like thing almost as long as a boat.
Then someone's got no idea what sturgeons are. Given that Muckmaw is described as having "big old barbels", eats relatively large animals, and has intestines that form "coils", I'm quite certain he's a catfish instead. (And that last point means he can't be a sturgeon, since those have straight intestines.)
Looking for largest catfish gives me about 10 feet as the maximum. I do hope Durza's spell included adaptation to such a size, since simply scaling Muckmaw up would have probably killed him quite soon. I do note that such a size for a fish is not impossible, as the whale shark can reach such a length.
Apparently Muckmaw gets its name from the mud and silt that’s always falling off its mouth when it comes near the surface,
Why would Durza make him a bottom-feeder? I think that would defeat his purpose a bit.
As they were waiting, watching the fish gasp for water, a red-haired man with pointy teeth walked out of the forest.
Well, from "the wilds", as there's no forest on that side of Isenstar.
Edit: That whole scene feels a bit like it's been ripped off from somewhere else. This is just completely contrary to Durza's characterisation so far.
Then he picked up that one, put it back in the lake, and told the boys it would torment them from then on for being such little shits.
Which implies that Muckmaw would be released from his curse if the one surviving fisherman were to die, which naturally no one picks up on.
I also note that none of the fishermen talks about Muckmaw eating people, which Carabel said he did.
but there’s a particular marshy stretch along the shore, “nearwise where th’ elves cleared out th’ last of Galbatorix’s soldiers” and for fuck’s sake now he’s gonna rip off the Dead Marshes, isn’t he?
It's rather going to be one of Paolini's attempts to "course-correct".
That whole sequence would be better suited to someone like Brom!
Oh shit, Thorn’s loud wingbeats might get them discovered!
Yes, in the middle of the night outside the city. It's possible, but not very likely.
Knowing what lies beyond it, though, I can’t help but wonder whether I’ve been dragging my feet on these sporks because there’s worse to come. But with a new year coming in and a new book apparently in the works, it’s high time to ramp this up.
It's not very reasonable, but I'd be glad to be able to discuss this book freely on here. Also, I'd be quite willing to do some of the torture chapters.
Until next time, and time to revise what I have for the chapter after next!
no subject
Date: 2025-01-01 11:31 am (UTC)Quite likely. "Show don't tell" is a very broad rule; there are times when you really should just "tell" instead.
How on earth did they do this without being spotted anyway?
Just the opposite given what went down here during the war.
Complete with the cliché going into a dive bar to bribe people for information, no less.
Exactly like Eragon, who never thinks to take advantage of the fact that he's a Rider and therefore always the most powerful person in the room, who isn't under any obligation to let Nausea and the rest of them order him around.
It does to me too because sturgeons have extendable fleshy mouths that open downward and don't have any teeth. How exactly did this guy get bitten by one, however oversized?
Why not just be done with it and make Muckmaw a shark? Or hell, why not make him a freaking Nidhwal? Those are already established to be big and nasty with big sharp teeth. And yet after book four they've never been mentioned again.
I could absolutely buy a Nidhwal being a threat to Morontagh and Thorn. An oversized catfish? Absolutely not. It's ridiculous.
I see I'm not the only one who picked up on that. And what was Durza even doing hanging around in the forest anyway?
You'd think they'd open with that, but nope. Which now has me wondering if the stupid werecat was lying.
Nobody ever noticed Saphira was about because of her "thunderous wingbeats", I note.
Oh good, because I certainly don't want to touch those.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-01 12:59 pm (UTC)Quite likely. "Show don't tell" is a very broad rule; there are times when you really should just "tell" instead.
That's a basic part of any story, really.
How on earth did they do this without being spotted anyway?
Let's see... they apparently flew quite high, to avoid getting spotted by "night fishermen".
Exactly like Eragon, who never thinks to take advantage of the fact that he's a Rider and therefore always the most powerful person in the room, who isn't under any obligation to let Nausea and the rest of them order him around.
I mean, he is bound to the dwarves, but he never seems to realise that they have a stronger grasp on them than the others, either.
It does to me too because sturgeons have extendable fleshy mouths that open downward and don't have any teeth. How exactly did this guy get bitten by one, however oversized?
Well, catfish do have teeth, but they're not fit for biting (not that "bony plates" are much better).
I could absolutely buy a Nidhwal being a threat to Morontagh and Thorn. An oversized catfish? Absolutely not. It's ridiculous.
With the right setup, he could easily be a good threat, like if Murtagh was even more overconfident than now and decided to physically fight him. (And Muckmaw should by rights have broken Murtagh's neck instead of just grabbing his arm.)
_I see I'm not the only one who picked up on that. And what was Durza even doing hanging around in the forest anyway? _
I guess this could be soon after Durza became Durza... but if he was hanging around Gil'ead, Galbatorix should be about to recruit him.
And yes, I can't quite put my finger on it, but it does feel that way.
Nobody ever noticed Saphira was about because of her "thunderous wingbeats", I note.
What part are you referring to, exactly?
Oh good, because I certainly don't want to touch those.
Well, someone's got to do them, and since I plan to cover them anyway, I'm willing to do them (only if Anya approves, of course).
Also, how soon after the next chapter would you like me to post mine?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-02 03:12 am (UTC)And the piece of string they used while doing this was HOW long?
Really, Paodragons are so ridiculously visible (and audible, with those stupidly loud wingbeats and inability to stop roaring and "bugling" all the time) that this whole "Thorn being stealthy" thing just gets funnier the more you think about it.
Something he had full opportunity to say no to.
Which happened in the desert, which is nowhere near Gil'ead. Maybe he was searching for Arya and her inept guards.
Pick any scene in any book where she takes off. In books two and four it's specifically stated that it makes "a sound like thunder", and she spends most of book one in hiding and yet nobody ever hears a damn thing even when she's flying around near settled areas.
I haven't started sporking yet so this one has time for proper discussion, so take your time.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-02 09:27 am (UTC)And the piece of string they used while doing this was HOW long?
They went fishing on "several sections of isolated shore", it says.
I haven't started sporking yet so this one has time for proper discussion, so take your time.
Good to know! I only have to revise it, so I'll be done quite in time.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-02 10:00 am (UTC)Ah yes, the old "keep it vague" tactic.
I've just finished my part of sporking the latest AMA, so I'm free to get started soon!
no subject
Date: 2025-01-01 11:19 am (UTC)It's not even an original one; we already had a chapter called "Dragon Tales" in book one. But we all know how much Paolini loves his puns, groan.
Speaking of which, I recently observed to a friend that genuinely good comedy always seems to come from people who have suffered (I mean just look at what a sad person Robin Williams was). In other words people who know about life and can therefore make amusing observations about it.
Paolini again indicates to me at least that he doesn't know anything much about life and hasn't ever truly suffered because his idea of comedy, even in "my first real novel for grown-ups with grown-up characters who have a really dark sense of humour" extends no further than slapstick, Monty Python references, and puns.
Because that is all Thorn does. Hang around while Morontagh does stuff.
They'll never see through that cunning disguise! And why would a peasant automatically have dirt on his face anyway? And what is Morontagh wearing at this point? I doubt he's dressed as a peasant.
Like I said before, he never writes what comes naturally to him unless it be gratuitous violence and gore, or the main character being a whiny, selfish bully. Those are the only times he doesn't seem to be forcing it.
"Must a be a King. He hasn't got shit all over 'im."
Why doesn't he just use magic to disguise himself instead of this rubbish?
Because Paolini only knows how to write one protagonist, ie an impulsive moron who never thinks ahead or takes responsibility for anything, and writes them over and over again.
It really, really isn't.
STOP IT WITH THE FUCKING TROTTING YOUR CHARACTER IS NOT A CENTAUR
Gosh, waltzing into a city where thousands of people saw you about a year ago and then doing this on top. What a smart man our guy is. I note that he doesn't take this as a cue to get the fuck out of there either. And shouldn't the guards be on high alert looking for the graverobber?!
You don't. The Murtagh I know would hate it, not revel in it, even subtly.
Not any more he ain't.
Good god, that's so over the top clichéd it comes across as a parody
He just won't quit using pregnancy as a metaphor and I hate it.
Wow, sloppy writing coming from Paolini of all people? It's almost as if he still hasn't gotten any better.
Yeah, why couldn't Muckmaw be small and really fast and that's why he's so impossible to catch? Also I'm now thinking of the hidden giant slaughterfish in Elder Scrolls: Oblivion. Remind me to dig up a picture of it for my spork of the next chapter.
Well that was wildly OOC, even given how little we knew about Durza. Why would he give a damn about some random fish? He's acting like some sort of vengeful fae guardian of the lake, cursing foolish mortals for fucking around with nature.
So... he gave it FUCKING WARDS. What the hell is powering said FUCKING WARDS?
He is, and hard. And again the elves are described as acting like murderous psychopaths instead of life-honouring vegetarian peaceniks (and that's only going to get worse too when you find out what they did with those soldiers).
Uh, by using them as accomplices in his crimes? Yeah, no. This is ridiculous.
So, now Morontagh is a judgemental hyper-violent asshat who also robs his victim who is clearly POOR and has children to support. This is awful on so many levels. Like did it not occur to him that maybe this little family turned to crime because it was that or starve?
Oh yeah, traumatising them for life by killing their dad in front of them and also leaving them without a provider would definitely leave them "better off". You idiot.
YOU KNEW HIM FOR FIVE GODDAMN MINUTES.
And in any case you're the one who blundered into the trap like a fucking idiot, so you're in no position to be casting aspersions on other people's intelligence or lack thereof. After all, the guy successfully got one over on you.
Because he's an idiot, yes. I note that Thorn is not showing any concern either.
Again. Because yay killing!
Hoo boy prepare for more of my patented Epistler Rants, big time.
Oh yeah, this part of the book is SO much better than what's to come, purely by comparison. I'm already dreading the goddamn torture chapters.
Best to just rip the bandaid off sometimes.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-01 11:25 am (UTC)Slaughterfish for you!
no subject
Date: 2025-01-01 11:32 am (UTC)But at least it makes complete sense that these fish can hurt you.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-02 12:38 am (UTC)This bit threw me out of the scene for a moment. Beer in a cask takes three to six months to go flat, longer if it's properly stored in a cool dark area.
This is a tavern in the working class labour part of the city, near the docks and presumably catering to many of the dock workers, fishermen, fishmongers, warehouse workers, abattoirs, tanners, and other lower-class workers who the rich people don't want to smell or mingle with. And it's one of the only taverns still open at night to cater to evening shift or night workers.
Do you really think such a tavern, with a presumably large if poor patronage, would be able to keep a cask of beer for more than 3 months without emptying it? A relatively small pub today can go through a couple of kegs per week.
Also, the time it takes for a beer to go flat in the cask is also enough time for the hops to spoil and start to smell like skunk. Yes, it can happen.
Do you really think a tavern selling old, spoiled piss-beer will survive as an establishment when the hard working labourers who patronise it have been breaking their backs all day and all they want at the end of it is a gods-damned beer that doesn't taste like the wrong end of a skunk?
None of this makes sense. I mean, yes, the cliche of the barkeep who hates his job and has zero customer service skills is a cliche for a reason, but the customers wouldn't let him get away with serving spoiled or flat beer, even if it's cheap. His bar wouldn't be able to stay open because the workers will go to some other bar that has decent fresh beer.
My own fix-it for this scene: It's late at night at the end of a busy week. The dock workers and fishermen have already been and gone, and the new beer cask isn't due for delivery until the morning. "Sorry," the barkeep said, "All I can offer you is the dregs. I'll give you a discount for the inconvenience."
not "tip to tail"? Nobody talks about fish having butts. Especially not fishermen, who would know a lot about fish anatomy. More confusingly, butt, but or butte is the Germanic word for flat fish such as flounder or sole. Sturgeon are not flat fish. Using the word butt to refer to a sturgeon is not something that an experienced fisher would do.
Speaking of sole, that reminds me of a song: "What a wonderful fish, are sole..."
The mark of a loving relationship: sarcastic quips when your "partner-of-your-heart-and-soul" (If Thorn's inner monologue is anything like Saphira's) gets in danger.
Paolini's characters have no idea how to actually relate to each other except by childish bullying and sarcasm.
It really does repeat a lot of information and pad things out way longer than necessary. It's like a cutscene that summarises all the character dialogue of the previous chapters just in case the player might have forgotten it already.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-02 04:14 am (UTC)As we discussed in private, real places that are fronts for organised crime usually have GOOD food and drink and a respectable atmosphere. Like this place couldn't possibly look any more suspicious, and nobody with half a brain would have gone anywhere near it.
It's awful, isn't it? You might recall Paolini at one point suddenly announced that the relationship between Angela and Eragon was "the heart of the story" (because now it wasn't the Eragon/Saphira relationship any more for some reason). And yet look at how that asshole treats him and indeed everyone else! She's rude and insulting to everybody she meets!
The "RPG in written form" overtones are just getting worse all the time.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-02 09:32 am (UTC)not "tip to tail"? Nobody talks about fish having butts. Especially not fishermen, who would know a lot about fish anatomy. More confusingly, butt, but or butte is the Germanic word for flat fish such as flounder or sole. Sturgeon are not flat fish. Using the word butt to refer to a sturgeon is not something that an experienced fisher would do.
That's not to mention that this measurement is used for reptiles and amphibians, not for fish!
no subject
Date: 2025-01-02 11:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-03 09:15 pm (UTC)...and fail to attract Muckmaw’s attention by dangling the scale into the water by the shore, so Murtagh rubs some dirt on his face to look like a peasant and heads back into the city to gather information.
Why didn't they just try multiple locations? Or travel around the lake, moving the scale?
Squatting, Murtagh dug a handful of moist dirt out from under the grass and rubbed it into his hands and onto his face. He hated the feel of the grime, but it would help age him and make him look more like a commoner.
Maybe I'm being unfair, but somehow I suspect this will make him seem like a nobleman trying to be a commoner.
Hell, it doesn’t even really make sense for his Murtagh! Why is he only now the kind of person others need to be afraid of? Murtagh was a capable fighter from well before the moment he was introduced!
He even beheaded a slaver to Eragon's consternation! (Slavery, by the way, which never comes up again and only seems to exist in Dras-Leona.)
Murtagh immediately realizes this is Durza, though obviously he doesn’t say as much, instead taking a moment to give some recap for any new readers. Durza joined the boys in watching the fish suffocate until there was only one left. Then he picked up that one, put it back in the lake, and told the boys it would torment them from then on for being such little shits.
While others may disagree, I don't think that this goes against Durza's established characterization. He only was characterized as cruel, sadistic, and a traitor to Galbatorix for some reason. He doesn't seem above doing cruel things just for the sake of it, so I can see him seeing an opportunity to mess something up and taking it. Saying that it is the result of the boys' own actions only adds to the cruelty.
Of course, there's a bunch of issues with Muckmaw: how it got the energy to grow so big if it hadn't been gorging on humans the entire time, why no one in the cycle used the trick to rejuvenate wards if that was possible, why a fish is a threat to Murtagh when he could hold his own against a bunch of things much more powerful, and when he has Thorn with him, etc.
I honestly can’t even with this. One of those kids threw pebbles at you for beating up their dad. That’s not the act of a child who’s scared of his father, but one who loves his father. Is the father a bad influence on them by roping them into his mugging schemes? Absolutely, that’s a bad thing and he should indeed be a better father and a more honest person in general.
This is so messed up. Now those kids are going to be even more traumatized. Disarming him and threatening him would have been more chilling, honestly, and more in character.
But with a new year coming in and a new book apparently in the works, it’s high time to ramp this up.
ANOTHER ONE??!?!!
no subject
Date: 2025-01-04 11:17 am (UTC)Why didn't they just try multiple locations? Or travel around the lake, moving the scale?
They did, though:
He even beheaded a slaver to Eragon's consternation! (Slavery, by the way, which never comes up again and only seems to exist in Dras-Leona.)
It actually does come up again in this book, when Murtagh says that Nasuada issued an edict outlawing it.
While others may disagree, I don't think that this goes against Durza's established characterization. He only was characterized as cruel, sadistic, and a traitor to Galbatorix for some reason. He doesn't seem above doing cruel things just for the sake of it, so I can see him seeing an opportunity to mess something up and taking it. Saying that it is the result of the boys' own actions only adds to the cruelty.
I understand, but I do wonder why Durza would go for something that took several years to pay off, and that Haugin, Sharg and Nolf could easily have avoided entirely. The way the story is told also makes it sound rather like he was some kind of "vengeful fae guardian", like Epistler says (he says it's "only fair to reward the survivor", for example)... except that I would expect him to give them some kind of (impossible) way to undo the curse.
It doesn't really work either way, and I find it makes less sense the more thought I put into it.
Of course, there's a bunch of issues with Muckmaw: how it got the energy to grow so big if it hadn't been gorging on humans the entire time, why no one in the cycle used the trick to rejuvenate wards if that was possible, why a fish is a threat to Murtagh when he could hold his own against a bunch of things much more powerful, and when he has Thorn with him, etc.
Some of those things I can actually accept as coming from Durza's "Shade magic", and, as I'll get into in my chapter, I can understand that Muckmaw would pose a severe threat to Murtagh, given that he actually got into the water to begin with. (Something more that doesn't make sense: the werecats should have overheard this story by now, so, since Durza said that Muckmaw will torment the boys "for the rest of their days", why haven't they killed Haugin by now?)
no subject
Date: 2025-01-13 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-01-05 10:05 am (UTC)That's exactly what this lame disguise is going to look like. Note too that he doesn't make any effort to talk like a commoner either. They've suddenly all got these stupid phonetically spelled accents. He doesn't.
Until Saint Eragon came and made it all go away forever, naturally.