Tuesday, November 18, 2008

More Paolini!

More Paolini! This is the first part of the prologue to Paolini's first book, Eragon; it includes little notes from me:


Prologue:

Shade of Fear



-O.k., that's just too cheesy, it makes me queasy-


1. Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world. A tall Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human except for his crimson hair and maroon eyes.


2. He blinked in surprise. The message had been correct: they were here. Or was it a trap? He weighed the odds, then said icily, "Spread out; hide behind trees or bushes. stop whoever is coming... or die."


-Skip ahead to paragraph 6. where it says he has to wait a few more hours. How would he be able to smell the elves hours before they arrived?-


3. Around him shuffled twelve Urgals with short swords and round iron shields painted with black symbols. They resembled men with bowed legs and thick, brutish arms made for crushing. A pair of pair of twisted horns grew above their small ears. The monsters hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid. Soon the rustling quieted and the forest was silent again.


-"Around him shuffled twelve Urgals..." but here, "The monsters hurried into the brush..." It might just be me, but isn't it hard to hurriedly shuffle into the brush, and isn't it kind of noisy? If the Shade really wants everything quiet for the ambush, then shouldn't they be going about it differently? "Soon the rustling quieted and the forest was silent again." That is, everything was silent again except for the "Wind howled through the night." (paragraph 1.)-


4. The Shade peered around a thick tree and looked up the trail. It was too dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine streaming between the trees; every detail was clear and sharp to his searching gaze. He remained unnaturally quiet, a long pale sword in his hand. a wire-thin scratch curved down the blade. the weapon was thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet hard enough to hack through the hardest armor.


-Thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet hard enough to hack through the hardest armor? Wow, Paolini really knows a lot about swords.-


5. The Urgals could not see as well as the Shade; they groped like blind beggars, fumbling with their weapons. An owl screeched, cutting through the silence. No one relaxed until the bird flew past. Then the monsters shivered in the cold night; one snapped a twig with his heavy boot. The Shade hissed in anger, and the Urgals shrank back, motionless. He suppressed his distaste-they smelled like fetid meat-and turned away. they were tools, nothing more.


-If you are waiting to ambush someone, and you've got your weapons in hand, then there's no need to fumble with them. The Shade hissed in anger? If you're angry at someone for making noise, you don't hiss at them because the "s" would stand out too munch in a quiet forest. The Urgals shrank back, motionless? Yeah, if you haven't noticed, it's really hard to shrink back and be motionless at the same time.-


6. The Shade force back his impatience as the minutes became hours. The scent must have wafted far ahead of it's owners. He did not let the Urgals get up or warm themselves. He denied himself those luxuries, too, and stayed behind the tree, watching the trail. Another gust of wind rushed through the forest. The smell was stronger this time. Excited, he lifted a thin lip in a snarl.


7. "Get ready," he whispered, his whole body vibrating. The tip of his sword moved in small circles. It had taken many plots and much pain to bring him to this moment. It would not do to lose control now.


8. Eyes brightened under the Urgal's thick brows, and the creatures gripped there weapons tighter. Ahead of them, the Shade heard a clink as something hard stuck a loose stone. Faint smudges emerged from the darkness and advanced down the trail.


-Oh, so they've got a stone trail in the middle of a forest; where did they get the stones? and why did they make the trail out of stones?-



I intend on doing the rest later, but by now you should get the basic idea on how Paolini writes.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Trashin' the Inheritance Cycle

Today I'm trashing the Inheritance! Christopher Paolini's books are sad. The main plot is to stretched, the characters are too similar, the writing is poor high schooler stuff and a lot of the time Paolini doesn't even know what he's writing about; Plagiarism is second nature to him (next comes deceiving people), he's not properly using his imagination, and he's even properly disguising his plagiarism! I have to say, he is truly amazing, I mean, do you know of anyone else that can write such poor fiction as his?

He kind of looks like Dwight Schrute from the Office, and someone who just passed gas.



I doubt if he ever took a writing class or researched on what he's writing. If you've yet to read his books, than do so now, so that you too can write a post on your blog on the same subject. I'm writing a paper-like thing about this topic on Microsoft Word and it has a lot to do about his plagiarism, I'll try to get it up as soon as I can.