oscar

I'm keen to get back into writing, and I know this doesn't have much of a plot, but I'd like some advice and criticism on how it reads. Is it boring and wordy? I really don't know...


Fat Fish


The river appeared flat and sluggish. With its surface glazed smooth by the afternoon sun, an occasional ripple was the only hint of movement. Ibrahim squinted against the river’s glare. A few metres ahead, he could see a ribbon of green lining the water’s edge.

The trees stretched their long arms and fingers to the banks, draping nets of shade over dark clay slopes. They had been cautioned to stillness; the breeze did not whisper encouragement. Ibrahim made his way into the coolness and became aware of sweat sticking his shirt to his back. He removed his hat and felt his hair; his head had been doused. A broad, pale tree root caught his eye: it was smooth and sanded; the river had caressed it into the shape of a reclining person. It would make a perfect seat.

The end of the root had dipped into the water like a straw where the bank dropped away steeply, creating a small overhang. Ibrahim peered over the edge and saw a meshwork of rootlets holding the riverbank intact, matted together with clumps of clay and soil. Ibrahim could tell nothing apart in the depths, save for the flickering grey border of shade.

A blue, metallic dragonfly wavered at the murky surface, dipping close to the water. It glistened like a polished gemstone. A small ring of concentric circles appeared, rolling outwards. Ibrahim smiled and ran his callused fingers over smooth nylon line until they met a jagged hook. He untangled line and hook, and set his bait; a fat stub of hot-dog sausage. Catfish would eat just about anything, but he’d found they liked the greasy, pink sausage best. He unlatched the reel and flung his line into the water. The glass surface wobbled, then settled, as Ibrahim arched his back to fit the contours of the tree seat.

The opposite bank was a green wall, trees and tangled vines gathered around the water’s edge in a protective embrace. Ibrahim detected a flicker; an almost imperceptible change in the speckled pattern of shade and light. The olive green water shimmered and rolled. Ibrahim tensed, expecting his line to go taut, however the pliant fishing pole did not bend and jerk. The thin nylon line did not cut through the water but instead remained slightly bowed, plucked at by the curious breeze. The water on the other side of the river became flat once more, frozen and impenetrable.

Now there was an arrow speeding in Ibrahim’s direction, a streaming, rippling line of fluid motion slicing through the murky water. Ibrahim lifted his pole a fraction, testing its strength. Something pulled it back down, a vicious tug. Ibrahim slid back on his wooden seat, forearms taut with knotted sinews and corded veins. He tensed and groaned, but could not gain against the thing which had snatched his line. It did not feel like any catfish Ibrahim had ever caught; instead of jerking and floundering it pulled the line with such great force Ibrahim thought the slender fishing pole might fly from his hands.

Ibrahim tightened his fist around the reel and wound it towards him. It creaked and refused to give. He pulled harder, the white tendons on the back of his hand fanning out, razor-sharp, as if they would tear through the skin. Something moved. It was the reel, revolving slowly against his will, turning backward, precious nylon line sucked up by the river. Ibrahim’s fist tightened, he pulled back; the river sucked again. The lazy, flat surface was deceiving, a thin veneer hiding savagery.

As he rocked back, digging his heels into the rough struts of the tree root, Ibrahim heard a sharp crack. The pole went loose in his hands and he was thrown back, toppling to one side, unbalanced. The other end of the fishing rod skidded across the water and sank, disappearing with barely a flicker.

Ibrahim righted himself and jumped to his feet. “Bastard!” He pivoted and swung forward, his right arm coming across in a violent arc, the torn end of the rod flying from his hand. “Take it then!” The mangled rod, with its handle and reel, sailed over the water in a lazy arc, before shattering the liquid-glass surface.

Ibrahim watched as the broken plane of water came together once again, mending seamlessly. He sank slowly onto his tree root seat and looked at his battered tin of greasy hot-dog bait. His rod and tackle were gone, and there were no fat-gutted catfish for him to roast. A coil of regret was unfurling in his chest. He should have saved the line and reel; now he would part with a few more precious dollars. He barely had enough to buy his dinner.

Pink, waxy hot-dog stubs peered up at him from the dull, grey tin. They were coated in a slick of metallic oil, giving them a rainbow sheen in the pale afternoon sun.

Still good enough to eat?

Of course.

SparkyLT

It's a little heavy with the description; the best word I can think of is 'overdone'. I liked the comparison of water to glass, but to be honest, most of the rest of it I could barely read.

Damien.

I've read mucccch worse. This was a little wordy, but at least you understand the usage of periods and don't plague us all with pink font. I suggest you keep writing.

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JosephB

Oscar,

It's very dense. But there is some good description here and you set the scene with some skill -- it's just too much. It picks up once there is something happening, so this tells me you can likely write action.

You need to apply this to a more complete and compelling story, although I get what you are doing here. I liked the ending, it's just too big of a set up.

Quote:

Ibrahim tightened his fist around the reel and wound it towards him. It creaked and refused to give. He pulled harder, the white tendons on the back of his hand fanning out, razor-sharp, as if they would tear through the skin. Something moved. It was the reel, revolving slowly against his will, turning backward, precious nylon line sucked up by the river. Ibrahim’s fist tightened, he pulled back; the river sucked again. The lazy, flat surface was deceiving, a thin veneer hiding savagery.

That's a nice paragraph. A lot of tension -- and you've manged to build some suspense with it.

Another thing -- use your pronoun. I tired of reading Ibrahim.

I sense that you can write. You just need to rein all this in.

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HippoHead

i couldn't read this for long. It's nice writing, but nothing's happening. I can ramble on about a river too, y'know.

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oscar

Thanks for the comments; I guess I have a tendency to go overboard and I'll have to work on that. I suppose I'm still working to develop a voice and balance my writing. It's hard to be honest with yourself, so I appreciate your opinions.

I'll try to ramble less and go a bit easier on the reader in future.

spider8

You didn't go overboard that much, just a little. I found it all very readable with just a few little problems like the arrow speeding in Ibrahims direction- I had to get to the end of the sentence to realise it was the v-shape ripples from the fish. I felt you're tripping yourself up occasionally with the descriptions.
You could perhaps make the fishes capture more important by mentioning Ibrahim hadn't eaten for two days and the hot-dogs should have been his own supper- it's just that Ibrahim seems vague. The importance of the reel and rod, and Ibrahim having no money is told a bit too late.
I enjoyed it so it has something. Not keen on the name Ibrahim,it had me thinking why? But that could be me.

cynthm

I think you write beautifully, and sooo much better than most of the others I've read on this website. I would agree with the other critiques, though . . . too much description, to the point that not much actually happens. You must keep writing though - you have a very lyrical way with words - just find a way to harness that talent and make it work for you.

oscar

I suppose I have to try plan things out a bit more before putting them to paper, huh? A big build up, failure to make certain things significant and all the tension just fizzling out in the end doesn't hold the reader's attention as much as I'd like. Cheers for the comments.

righting

I thought you've over described some parts. I was having a little trouble keeping up with the descriptions. Try to show more than explain. Recently, I noticed that a lot can be left up to the readers imagination and just some hints are needed. I also tend to be to wordy too, but practice makes perfect. I would like to reread this when it's revised.

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