Army of Eyes

Hmmmm....I think perhaps you need to reduce the number of words...somehow...I'm not sure, but I feel that you need to clip sentences and make everything more active than passive. You may have a good story, yes, but the writing seems too much. Too much narration/exposition, and not enough of the active, strong voice needed.

I’m quite fond of country music. The ones I like best are those that can tell a whole life story in three verses. For all its words, that’s what this reminds me of.
And it’s full of surprises.
It starts out with some meandering thoughts on the subject of clouds.
Then I was eavesdropping on the intimate thoughts of an introspective woman.
Then it became clear that there was a real story here, had been all along, with a beginning, a middle and an (implied) end.
And that was just the prelude.

Angelina,
Army of Eyes has an ethereal quality to it - amazing, poetic writing which captured me immediately. Full of emotion, I felt transported to into the heart of your character.
I noticed a few repetitions, for e.g. in the 9th para of the prelude, 'always' shown twice when the second always is not needed. Apart from that it was a wonderful, engaging read.
Best of luck,
Melissa

The work displays a wonderful command of English and a great depth of emotion is presented in the storyline.

Angelina,
"An Army of Eyes" is mesmeric with fluid descriptives that draw one on and on in a relentless current deeper and deeper into Tristesse's reclusive mind. There is a lyrical quality to your writing style that delves in the human condition so prone to alienation and despair when overwhelmed by drudgery. Thank you for sharing such intimate and private thoughts.

Kenneth Edward Lim
The North Korean

Do you write poetry? I'll rephrase that as you do, but it is held within the clasp of the prose. Do you write poems?

Ch 8
I like the title SHOPPING FOR STRANGERS ... that is exactly what we do with our werds, seeking strange eyes, with nooooo idea who we might hook. In this Ch i was taken with ...
-- I've got jeans older than him
-- long and lean to match her ego ... (O for a long and lean mind of sinewy natural athleticism in the metaphysics)
-- this dab I think it is cracking ... the syallables just tumble across the stage with pleasing brilliance: '...fi/erce su/per-stride cat/walk mis/tress full-height pos/ture' ... rrrrrrrraaaaaggggghhhhh!

Ch 7
I like this ... I am there in the bed, having lost my identity ... I can see how it connects to falling asleep in the hotel perhaps, it's a long night ... and the next thing ... A&E ... this chapter also reminded me of the case of the pianist who was found wandering around on a Kent beach having lost his memory ... I esp liked these dabs ...
-- her mind constantly on the brink of a visitor
-- but your toes: just two odd little things that you accepted ...
-- The dress: Let me introduce you to my body
-- This esp: '...the fractures in his mind...'

Ch 7
Another great opening graph esp ... '...its lullaby of quiet and the cradle of low sofas mad them succumb to its sophoriphic influence when left alone.' quite mesmeric wording. That is what I am enjoying most about reading you.

Ch 6
The box room is strongly surreal and is almost like some kind of portal. It cld almost be a work in Tate Modern.
I esp like ...
-- It crawled into her mind and did things to her ... THAT is exactly how I wld like my writing to be! (Don't we all!)
-- her mind once more sent into reflections ... this is brilliant, leaping from the physicality of the reflective room to the metaphysically of the reflective mind
-- this is my favourite dab in this chapter: '...a strange dearm embroidered itself inplace of a strange dream, picking away all traces and existing instead...'
-- confusion and curiosity ... the stuff of life! where creativity exists! a pox on spreadsheet nazis who wld have all clear and known, as when all is known what is there to be curious about?
Your writing is bossing my eyes and I for one am curious for more! Will be back anon.

Ch5
Ach, I am an idiot, EDWARDS MOTHER ... of course and her illness is of the mental variety and maiftests itself in cleptomania.

Ch 5
it is as if the madness is in the air, tangible, awaiting its change to creep into us, to feed on what we are and suck us of our memories.
I confess i don't know who Margaret is. I am not the best of readers. Is she the voice in the Prelude? I'm not sure of the relationship of the characters in each chapter, or if there is one. I wld have to read all the chapters again to try and piece them together. Anyway in this ch I liked ...
-- the extreme sport of it
-- a little grey porceilain rat ... like it was waiting for the right time to come alive
-- and settled into place in a newly formed socket
-- They swallowed memories, names and faces ... she cldn't cope and wanted him to die ... (sounds like alzheimers)
-- a spider took a chance

For more!
Ch 5
I like the notion of the otherness you describe in the first graph. What we term sanity may one day be seen to be a prison of our own making with all manner of excitement and adventure to be had beyond its walls. Also for all our sanity we are often inept at managing our lives. Perhaps because we are so tightly contrained by prevailing notions of sanity we are often misguided in out ways. Expanding our collective capticy beyond the limits of sanity may prove worth our while. Perhaps we are our greatest untapped resource. And so let's go fot it, see where those visions may lead us ... without fear.

Ch 4.
I have lost the plot if there is one. I don't know who the she is here. But it matters not. I will work it out later. I found myself reading slowly to start with but then warmed up. The second half of the chapter, while not as full on as chapter 1 is great.
I am reading in two ways ... firstly for the oddness of the story and the novely of each chapter so far and secondly for the glinty bits. These wordlings caught my eye here ...
-- tour of duty
-- fishing rod over the possibility of a distracion
-- excuse for not visinting my mother (we all need a supply of excuses for various occasions)
-- poets tenderly caressing their listeners' minds with words that were beyond her ... love this bit being your poet type *bows*
-- the entire description of the vodka ritual esp this bit ... 'professionally settling to a lull and quietly waiting for the next more'
-- It sported the remains of a marriage between blood, mucus and puss ...
-- the nightmare vision of the umbilical and then the monster was cracking. I mischievously imagined that said eyed-thing cld be me, your reader, any reader. We crave eyes but it is not all love and harmony. Our readers may be dangerous troll types, idiots, malicious ... we have no idea what the army of eyes is like or what it may do to us if we fail it in some way, or even if we please it to death! Yessssss I am sucking the life out of your story which I declare I am finding most nourishing!
My feeling is that you love the visions you serve us and that story is just a loose array of stepping stones to get from one vision fest to another. I'm cool with that.

Saturday ... sometimes reading is a chore, esp among the so called slush, but, but, but ... There are times when we find something that draws us back with joy in the souls of our feet. Your bizzare concoction is one such creation. And let the record show that Pink Floyd are twanging away in the background as I readied my eyes to read.

p.s. from Friday ... I like the ch title HER CHARMS and the ambiguity of it.

BACKED on Mr. Orlando Furioso's recommendation.

Ch 3
Sounds like Mill Hill or Orpington. Benjie the Binman country.
'The wooden floorboards waited patiently for pressure to allow them to speak ...' another vigorously image.
The writing feels very masculine in its muscularity, dear Black Angel.
Couple of literals ... baron/barren and crown/crowd.
'...all other thoughts were eaten alive by ruthless determination.' another great line. Sigh. My fingers are beginning to ache with typing all this! But I am enjoying myself, for which thank you. '...the rapids of time' is another sweet spot. Will be back for more tmr.

Ach, it goes on ... 'Pieces (shards better?) of broken glass lay newborn with sharp clean edges on the floor but again inert in their brilliance.' Love it.
'... the window watched ...' marvellous, windows are normally so transparently lifeless, the spearcarriers of the metaphor world.
Ach, we are into some heavy metal nightmare lyricdom with these visions. Powerful stuff. Is this the same story as the Prelude?
Ach, the notion of the blood actually trying to 'find it's way' is also brilliant as blood, like windows, is normal a sort of impotent bystander in the world of story's where it features so commonly.
Ach, ach! And that last big hand line is brilliant arch, a marvellously confident dismount from a powerful burst of writing. Bravo! You have read LES CHANTS DE MALDAROR I take it?

'... a different kind of being ... remembering to breathe just in time ...' My speculations ranged from -- triggered by the word 'hit' -- junkie, to murder in the vein of some Isidor du Cass monster, to, as seems to be the case, muscular dreamer, not forgetting the prospect of gone wrong Blakeian visionary.

'... tender social sensualities ... in a rational momenf of tribal courtship ...' Ach, you are enriching my Friday evening mightily, fiercely even.

... measuring the playhouse with its rhythmic pounding ... yes, yes, yes marvellous!

'Just a common thought' ... like it. This chapter is like a hot rod leaping through the mind, sparks and flames a-flying in it's wake. I am not sure I've grasped what is going on as yet ... Is that an eyeball I see before mine eyes? Ach, where's my cocktail stick?

Reading graphs 3 and 4 I can't help thinking he should give in to it, surrender, enjoy the astonishing state he is lucky to be in. But we are not supposed to enjoy such states. But something tells me they are close to our creativity.

Back for more.
Ch 2
I like the title ... it sounds like a Nirvana track.
But I love that second graph. My notion of said place is one of the highest animation!

Thirdly, I found myself engaging as a man and comparing my own nature and circumstances to your characters analysis of the two main men in her life. The loss of the son to religion was an especial hurt to her as he seemed to be denying her some vicarious joy by opting for an unfashionable chasteness.
My strongest personal response was to this dab, 'Men have the ability to be so engrossed you wonder where you fit in.' Ach, that is me. And, how apt that I had just been for a swim -- in an empty pool -- before I read your prelude as I love swimming and am at my happiest when swimming. To me the water beats any woman I have ever know and the feeling of being in the water and moving through it is ... bliss. Of course i am not a normal man in this. Added to this, my obsession is about the nature of creativity and writing, esp the short stuff. Metaphysicality is of more interest to me than physicality. This makes me less than ideal as a lover as my head is, erm, seldom on the task. The sex issue is a conundrum for many I own, too much or too little. so I was absolutely fascinated by your observation about engrossment as it is absolutely true. Swimming and sonnets rule! The politics of love and the trials of love, betrayal and hurt are best avoided where possible. But I stress I am not your average man.
I will definitely be back for more.

Prelude
Your opening graphs engaged me on three levels.
Firstly, I was taken with the delightful dreaminess of the cloud-gazing and then the notion of the graden being 'thinking ground' I esp liked this, 'Hard work and pleasant surroundings always gave a platform for honest meditation...'
Secondly, the realisation that she was ill made me think in a different way, a more compassionate way perhaps. I found the observations at the end of the prelude on others' behaviour strong, esp, 'The sideward glances were the worst...' This made me think how the herd is cruel to its weakened members, closes ranks as though to expel them as some kind of biological embarrassment, looks down on them in some scorning way. This was also telling, 'Social occasions were out now anyway...' Being a touch misanthropic I inhaled wistfully at the thought of same, though don't tell my wife pls.
I thought the very best dabs were on this theme esp, the graph beginning, 'She had been both cruel and compassionate...' This dab was cracking, '...the locked doors that pain kept throwing in front of her. A caught spider under glass...' I can see those trapped legs! And this notion is a universal yearning which I can well imagine an ill person prone to super-reflectiveness feeling, '...just to be someone different for a moment.'
(more)

"Licked his needle up with tainted spit and stiched his plan." A stolen glimpse down the edge of the precipice into the ways the psyche copes with love, sex, loss, memory and change. I love it: so fresh and raw.

Memphisgirl
Ashes By Now

This is a fascinating journey through questions about the nature of existence, driven by a highly imaginative mind, and delivered with an excellent quality of writing. I think your genre labels should include sci-fi, and possibly even fantasy, since what you are exploring is inividual perception, with the suggestion of an unseen higher power. You write with conviction and an ethereal beauty, and I'm very pleased to back this book. Best wishes, Tony.

The style of this is very much to my taste – its obliqueness, darkness and delicacy. I was taken with its poetic rolling rhythms, lured on by the images that you string. The malevolent bony fingers will remain with me. There’s an eeriness to this, a gothic creepiness to that creeping other, that, for some reason, had me bringing to mind shadow puppet shows and Angela Carter. I shall leave this on my shelf until I’ve read it all.

Not what I would usually choose to read but well written and captivating. I'm unsure about some of the long sentences and paragraphs (and I'm a repeat offenderon that point!) On the one hand they are appropriate and in theme on the other they make the read a little harder and less fluid. Backed for the quality of the writing.

love the mood and long sentences of thoughts leading you into directions you can't predict. Almost like streams of consciousness,...your descriptions are fresh and some very unique. I would only suggest more dialogue or breaks up of paragraphs to allow more fluidity. But loved it!

Powerful.

Backed.

Army of Eyes

Hi Angelina,

What an interesting and engaging piece of writing. I love the rumbling sentences, that go on and on, darting left and right in a fashion we cannot predict at the outset. You are unabashedly trying something new here, something different, the descriptions are generally very good and very fresh, the cloudscape painted in the beginning and its effect on us the viewer is very well captured and conveyed. And then here philosophising, her illness and the description of it, haunting. You capture her entrapment well, so locked in that she has to watch and observe for much of the time. Beautiful poetic prose, that made me picture all manner of things, clashing ideas, merging, strange images, powerful and evocative stuff. Well done. If you have the time to offer some views on my book I would be grateful but this is definitely getting my backing.

Best wishes and good luck
Andrew W.
(Sanctuary's Loss)

Your writing style is very interesting... almost like a creepy Victorian nursery rhyme, words arranged in strange order, words used in strange ways. But it works. Haunting and sinister, it steals my attention and holds it to ransom for a read of a few pages more. Very gothic.

Andrew

Angelina,

I haven't been on the site for a while due to various things, however i want to thank you for the bookshelf. I also read your first chapter and enjoyed it very much so much so that I've backed it. Keep up the good work and I'll get around to reading more in the next few days.

First, let me just explain that I don't normally read any kind of thrillers, suspence or paranormals, but I wanted to return the favour and read your book anyway. However, I couldn't quite get through your prose. It wore me out and I began to skim, which really didn't work at all since I missed a lot of vital information. I'm on the fence about your particular writing style. I doesn't suit me as a reader very well, but it might suit others. On the one hand, it's very evocative of internal monologues and confused minds, which is the subject of the book. On the other hand, I think it could be a bit more "economic" without losing this stylistic quality. There are sentences and phrases that might sound good but if you think about it they may not mean or add so much, at least not to the reader's understanding. I think your poetic images and original punctuation would be more effective if they were used a little more sparsely. I'm not against "difficult" texts, long sentences or deliberate ignoring of grammatical rules as such, but there must be a point to every stylistic choice. As it is, the text is quite obscure, which might be the point but which might also make the reader lose interest. Perhaps some more coherence or (intelligible) plot might be necessary to draw the reader in and make her/him care about these characters losing their minds? Then again, perhaps the mysteriousness as such attracts some readers, just not this one I'm afraid. Well, you know I write in a very different style myself so please take that into consideration when you read this comment.

this is just really nice work. Tight, perfectly controlled prose that manages to immerse and evoke without being drippy or flowery. Should be higher up the chart than it is so I'm doing my part.

Watchlisted now and backed later, after I've moved some stuff around.

Nice work, Ms. Black.

Angelina,
I was about to remove my book today, but your comments have spurred me on. Thank you.
Ruth

I love your writing, it is quite tense and the images are so strong (I cannot face bloody scenes though, I have become a bit more squeamish since I had a child).

There are a few typing mistakes, for instance, chapter two, second sentence had snatch his body (should be snatched). I'm sure a careful read will weed them out.

It's very rich and complex. Good luck, you have my backing.

Now on my booklist. Edgy, unusual and esoteric.
Needs to be higher.

Dear Angelina,

I backed you three days ago, but didn't tell you. I think you write very nicely and with a lot of insight. If I were you, I would contact a new writer every day and put their book on your watchlist. That way, they'll reciprocate and comment on your work. Within a few weeks, you'll have a feel for what others think of your work. Hope to see you around.

Oh, regarding the 'strange girl'. People thought the same thing about da Vinci, Van Goch, etc. Most people are boring fuddy duddies, hopelessly in a rut. They are offended by the 'tall poppy' which casts a shadow over them.

Just keep on writing, girl. Hope to see you around. Pierre.

Dear Angelina,

Your sentiments on women's fiction attracted me. To get the show on the road, Army of Eyes is now on my watchlist. I have recently begun backing a new author every day. And, within two weeks, every book on my watchlist winds up on my shelf. So there you go. Just be patient, girl.

I am exhibiting two works here (well, if I may call light fiction 'works'). I would have catagorised them as women's fiction if Authonomy had one. So, I used the romance genre instead. May I hear from the female side of the fence whether they are women's fiction. Or, no, they aint.

I'll get back to you on Eyes in due course. Have fun with your work. Regards. Pierre.

People keep going on about shortening sentences and paragraphs. If readers can only cope with little cryptic sentences, they should be reading a different kind of book. Or maybe a comic. I don't understand it. There is nothing wrong with a long sentence or a long paragraph if it is well written, and all of this that I have read so far is beautifully done. An example: The penultimate sentence in the chapter: No control, beginning 'Helplessly restrained...' and ending ' fibres of the carpet'. If you take out a single word you will ruin the natural rhythm of the sentence. When you read it as it stands now, it is like 4 lines of poetry. Wonderful stuff. For the time being, onto my watchlist.

Thanks CJ, maybe I have made it a bit too complicated. As Richard said on first glance it does appear jumbled. Not enough is up for people to get into the story but too much might turn people off, if it is not really their cup of tea or they haven’t got the time.

Thanks for that Richard; I shall take it into consideration.

Dear Angelina,

I think this could be a really good book, but at the moment it's not ready. You need to check punctuation and grammar, shorten sentences and paragraphs. I guess the narrative is supposed to be jumbled (and that is what will make it a good book). But under the semblance of the jumble, under the portrait of the onset of madness, loss of thought, you need an order in the writing to make it understandable to the reader.

Please don't think this one subjective view is negative; it's meant to be constructive. I've done a sort of edit on your first few paras; hope you don't mind. I just thought another view might be useful. Good luck with editing.

R

When the world has abandoned you, it moves about you still. You are in purgatory, waiting. Always waiting.

Now that the illness had her in its grasp, the world seemed a strange place. How would you explain the disease to people who didn’t need to know about you, how shield children from knowing it too soon? How soften the blow? They shouldn’t have to understand, not yet, how ugly and tragic life can be, especially towards the end. Only stories have a happy ending. But they tell one truth; that the end is usually a very long way from the beginning, and then, mostly, abrupt. No-one is quite prepared for it, even when it’s expected.

The woman, still as a portrait, sat by the window and stared through her reflection out at her garden. What if your beginning is someone else’s descent towards the end? What if their ending was somehow, if remembered, a part of your beginning?