On Why Inheritance Isn’t Well-Written
by Hackslayer
I. Flow of language
The flow of a story is, essentially, the rhythm of your words. It is what draws a reader in and makes them turn the page. Authors utilize flow by arranging their words and sentences in such a way that is aesthetically pleasing to the reader. The prose becomes more like a thought process than a narrative. In a nutshell, it flows.
Upon opening Eragon and Eldest, I was immediately struck by the sentence structure. It was a chore to read more than a few pages because the sentences were choppy and abrupt, with no segue leading into each other. Nothing seemed to fit, in my mind, and I often found myself rearranging and rephrasing the prose.
The reason for much of this is covered in my next point:
II. Info-dumping
Info-dumping is a phenomenon in which an author stops the movement of the story for description, like so:
Insert character A. Insert character A’s description. Insert setting A. Insert setting A’s description. Insert character B. Insert character B’s description. Insert action sequence. Insert setting B. Insert setting B’s description. Insert character C. Et cetera.
Any writer worth his salt could tell you that this is a huge no-no. It keeps your story from having any kind of flow, it messes up your pacing, and can lead into purple prose.
Examples:
"A tall Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human except for his crimson hair and maroon eyes.
"He blinked in surprise."--Eragon, page 1
(Notice how all action stops for a description, and then Paolini resumes telling the story)
"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 twisted horns grew above their small ears. The monsters hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid."--Eragon, page 1
(Notice how all action stops for the description, and then Paolini resumes telling the story)
"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 stout enough to hack through the hardest armor.
"The Urgals could not see as well as the Shade; they groped like blind beggars, fumbling with their weapons."--Eragon, page 1
(Notice how all action stops for the description, and then Paolini resumes telling the story)
"Three white horses cantered toward the ambush, their heads held high and proud, their coats rippling in the moonlight like liquid silver.
"On the first horse was an elf with pointed ears and elegantly slanted eyebrows. His build was slim but strong, like a rapier. A powerful bow was slung on his back. A sword pressed against his side opposite a quiver of arrows fletched with swan feathers.
"The last rider had the same fair face and angled features as the other. He carried a long spear in his right hand and a white dagger at his belt. A helm of extraordinary craftsmanship, wrough with amber and gold, rested on his head.
"Between these two rode a raven-haired elven lady, who surveyed her surroundings with poise. Framed by long black locks, her deep eyes shone with driving force. Her clothes were unadorned, yet her beauty was undiminished. At her side was a sword, and on her back a long bow with a quiver. She carried in her lap a pouch that she frequently looked at, as if to reassure herself that it was still there.
"One of the elves spoke quietly..."--Eragon, page 1
(Notice how all action stops for the description, and then Paolini resumes telling the story)
Less is more, when it comes to description. Leaving things up to the reader’s imagination creates more intrigue and mystery, and doesn’t hinder the plot from moving forward.
Our next point covers this a bit more, as well.
III. Amateur description/purple prose
Purple prose, as defined by Wikipedia, is:
“A term of literary criticism, purple prose is used to describe passages, or sometimes entire literary works, written in prose so overly extravagant, ornate or flowery as to break the flow and draw attention to itself. Purple prose is sensuously evocative beyond the requirements of its context. It also refers to writing that employs certain rhetorical effects such as exaggerated sentiment or pathos in an attempt to manipulate a reader's response…Modern critics use "purple prose" to refer to any writing that is undermined by its overstylized and formulaic nature.”
Purple prose is, more often than not, marked by amateurish description. Paolini falls into both traps, as illustrated below:
"It was too dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine streamining between the trees; every detail was clear and sharp to his searching gaze."--Eragon, page 1
"Three white horses cantered towards the ambush, their heads held high and proud, their coats rippling in the moonlight like liquid silver."--Eragon, page 2
"His build was slim but strong, like a rapier."--Eragon, page 2
"Between these two rode a raven-haired elven lady, who surveyed her surroundings with poise. Framed by long black locks, her deep eyes shone with a driving force. Her clothes were unadorned, but her beauty was undiminished."
“It was three days since the Varden and dwarves had fought the Urgals for possession of Tronjheim, the mile-high, conical city nestled in the center of Farthen Dûr, but the battlefield was still strewn with carnage.”—Eldest, page 1
“Eragon ran a hand over his face and looked up at the stars showing through Farthen Dûr's distant top, which were smudged with sooty smoke from the pyre. Three days. Three days since he had killed Durza; three days since people began calling him Shadeslayer; three days since the remnants of the sorcerer's consciousness had ravaged his mind and he had been saved by the mysterious Togira Ikonoka, the Cripple Who Is Whole.”—Eldest, page 1
Incidentally, most of the above examples are also
IV. Cliche
Cliches aren’t always a bad thing; clichéd plotlines or character types can be great fun in the hands of a competent author. Cliché descriptions, however, are never all right.
They are painful for the reader and should be shameful to the author. They are usually a side-effect of purple prose, which Paolini’s work is rife with.
‘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 and bushes. Stop whoever is coming . . . or die.”’—Eragon, page 1
This particular example is cliché mostly due to the death threat. Darth Vader could get away with it (because, let’s face it, he was darn scary), but it isn’t very effective here, because it was done to death, firstly, and secondly because I just don’t feel scared of the Shade. Why should I?
“Three white horses with riders cantered toward the ambush, their heads held high and proud, their coats rippling in the moonlight like liquid silver.”—Eragon, page 1
If I didn’t know that this came from Eragon’s prologue, I would say that you could find this sentence in any number of pulp fantasy novels, because it utilizes old and tired descriptions that no longer do anything for me.
“Between these two rode a raven-haired elven lady, who surveyed her surroundings with poise. Framed by long black locks, her deep eyes shone with a driving force. Her clothes were unadorned, yet her beauty was undiminished.”
This statement was so riddled with clichés that I decided to bold them all. Again, this is nothing I haven’t seen before in just about every pulp fantasy novel I’ve ever had the displeasure of reading.
V. Telling, Not Showing
I have often had people tell me that Paolini must be a good writer, because he follows the, “Show, don’t tell,” rule. Astounded, I usually inquire further and find that these people are blissfully unaware of the fact that this rule does not refer to showing description (which Paolini does in abundance); rather, this rule refers to a technique wherein the reader is shown insight into a character’s life or mindset.
Amateur writers tend to gloss over a lot of character development, either because they don’t know how to properly show that development, or because they want to skip ahead to what they consider to be the “meat” of the story—usually, this is when the hero kicks serious butt.
Examples of telling rather than showing in Inheritance:
“They continued with the exercises throughout most of the day. When Eragon finally stopped, he was tired and ill-tempered. In those hours, he had come to hate the pebble and everything about it. He started to throw it away, but Brom said, “Don’t. Keep it.” Eragon glared at him, then reluctantly tucked the stone into a pocket.
“We’re not done yet,” warned Brom, “so don’t get comfortable.” He pointed at a small plant. “This is called delois .” From there on he instructed Eragon in the ancient language, giving him words to memorize, from vöndr, a thin, straight stick, to the morning star, Aiedail .
That evening they sparred around the fire. Though Brom fought with his left hand, his skill was undiminished.
The days followed the same pattern. First, Eragon struggled to learn the ancient words and to manipulate the pebble. Then, in the evening, he trained against Brom with the fake swords. Eragon was in constant discomfort, but he gradually began to change, almost without noticing. Soon the pebble no longer wobbled when he lifted it. He mastered the first exercises Brom gave him and undertook harder ones, and his knowledge of the ancient language grew.
In their sparring, Eragon gained confidence and speed, striking like a snake. His blows became heavier, and his arm no longer trembled when he warded off attacks. The clashes lasted longer as he learned how to fend off Brom. Now, when they went to sleep, Eragon was not the only one with bruises.
Saphira continued to grow as well, but more slowly than before. Her extended flights, along with periodic hunts, kept her fit and healthy. She was taller than the horses now, and much longer. Because of her size and the way her scales sparkled, she was altogether too visible. Brom and Eragon worried about it, but they could not convince her to allow dirt to obscure her scintillating hide.
They continued south, tracking the Ra’zac. It frustrated Eragon that no matter how fast they went, the Ra’zac always stayed a few days ahead of them. At times he was ready to give up, but then they would find some mark or print that would renew his hope.
There were no signs of habitation along the Ninor or in the plains, leaving the three companions undisturbed as the days slipped by. Finally, they neared Daret, the first village since Yazuac.”—Eragon, page 150
This glosses over a lot of potential development of Eragon and Saphira. We skip from Eragon being an incompetent swordsman, possibly because Paolini did not want us to see Eragon be less than perfect, or possibly because Paolini simply wanted to get to the action of the story, and so sacrificed character development.
“The songs of the dead are the lamentations of the living.
So thought Eragon as he stepped over a twisted and hacked Urgal, listening to the keening of women who removed loved ones from the blood-muddied ground of Farthen Dûr. Behind him Saphira delicately skirted the corpse, her glittering blue scales the only color in the gloom that filled the hollow mountain.
It was three days since the Varden and dwarves had fought the Urgals for possession of Tronjheim, the mile-high, conical city nestled in the center of Farthen Dûr, but the battlefield was still strewn with carnage. The sheer number of bodies had stymied their attempts to bury the dead.
In the distance, a mountainous fire glowed sullenly by Farthen Dûr's wall where the Urgals were being burned. No burial or honored resting place for them.
Since waking to find his wound healed by Angela, Eragon had tried three times to assist in the recovery effort. On each occasion he had been racked by terrible pains that seemed to explode from his spine. The healers gave him various potions to drink. Arya and Angela said that he was perfectly sound. Nevertheless, he hurt. Nor could Saphira help, only share his pain as it rebounded across their mental link.”—Eldest, page 1
This passage skips over a lot of potential development for Eragon. We had a great opportunity to see his pain and suffering by directly witnessing his first seizure. Instead, Paolini chooses to briefly mention it.
Because he chose this method, I had no idea about the depth of Eragon’s injury until well after he was in Ellesmera. Why? Because this passage hardly does his injury justice, because it retells an event that already happened—a summary, if you will—instead of letting we, as readers, see for ourselves.
VI. Permutations of “Said.”
This is one of the most obvious signs of an amateur writer is that he or she will avoid the word, "said," like the plague. When they do use the word, "Said," they often attach an adverb or other modifier to it, instead of letting the dialogue speak for itself.
In the prologue, there are six instances where a character says something. Only once is the word, "Said," used, and then the adverb, "icily," is tacked onto it. Instead, the Shade shouts, whispers, utters, screams, and barks.
Well-written dialogue speaks for itself. You know from the dialogue that the character is screaming/shouting (exclamation points usually give it away, too). You know from the dialogue itself when a character is angry or annoyed or whatever. Using words like Paolini does is tacky and a cop-out.
And let's not even start on, "I'm sorry," apologized Brom.
VII. Deus ex machina
For a definition of deus ex machina:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deus_ex_machina
Deus ex machina runs rampant in Paolini’s work. At every turn, the protagonist is miraculously saved by some twist of fate: he is miraculously not home when his house is burned down, is miraculously able to turn into a master swordsman in a matter of months, and miraculously gets knocked out at every battle, only to wake up safe and warm. I find it tiring to read a book with no real struggle; at no point during the book are we actually worried for Our Hero, because we know this formula; he will always be saved.
Eldest is even worse, with the Blood Oath Ceremony.
It is the sign of an amateur author when he cannot bear to let his characters be faced with any real struggle.
Edit by Buzzfloyd to remove extra words jumbling one of the sentences and making it unreadable.