Revalkyrie (chapter one)
This review was fast lane comissioned by @ArlequineLunaire
Revalkyrie is a web novel published on some obscure scifi content mill by some no-name forum poster. If anyone is curious for some reason, you can find it here. :P
Anyway, being serious now. This is my first time publicly reviewing something at the behest of its own author. I've done some private reviewing and editing of people's stories, but there's a big difference between that and my publicly posted critic-tainment schtick. @ArlequineLunaire tells me that she wants me to ignore the financial incentive to pull my punches and treat this like anything else I review, which I'm fully capable of doing. Well, hopefully there won't be any punches to not pull in the first place. That does happen sometimes.
Going by the descriptive blurb, this is an original urban fantasy novel with a premise reminiscent of Type Moon's "meet historical figures as antagonistic magical entities" deal. Maybe some direct inspiration there, maybe a complete coincidence. Also, I assume it will have something to do with valkyries at some point. Valkyries are cool, I like valkyries. Kinda wanted to be one when I grew up, as a kid (in retrospect this might have been an early sign of something, heh). Anyway, it's just one chapter that's been commissioned at least so far, so let's see what kind of first impression it makes it that space.
“Chapter One: A Fencer’s Fractured Family said:
Victory was at hand. Another parry, another thrust, and her opponent would be done for. It’d be a close victory, but that just meant people would only talk about it more.
A hushed silence, the stares of the crowd, the glare of the lights, her and her fencer foe positioning themselves almost like a dance, and then…
”Touché!” her foe stated simply.
Everyone cheering her opponent, it felt like the world just broke. ‘How could I, how could I lose…’
”Charlotte, are you paying attention?”
That day in the classroom, the orange afternoon glow already streaming in, the brunette schoolgirl Charlotte Chretien was snapped back to the present again. It wouldn’t have been the first time her friend, well, ‘friend’ Olivia had had to do that.”
Fantasizing about being a celebrity fencer when you're supposed to be studying is one thing. Fantasizing about being a celebrity fencer and losing a match when you're supposed to be studying is a little bit less typical.
Maybe Charlotte was reminiscing, rather than fantasizing. Going over a match she lost at the latest interschool tournament or something. I can see how that might distract one from one's homework in the following weeks.
The commas around 'friend' could be facetious, or double-facetious, depending on how genuinely annoyed Charlotte is at Olivia. Hopefully not too much; it seems like she's just trying to help her, heh.
Emphasizing Charlotte's hair color on its lonesome in a paragraph that doesn't say anything else about her appearance, and that is ostensibly from Charlotte's own perspective, is kind of weird. Granted, there's an art to how and where it's best to weave that kind of description in, and it's not always an easy art.
““Alright, sheesh,” Charlotte said, then looked at all the notes on the desk. “Hey, any reason we can’t just do all this homework at a café, or at your place?” Or Hell, even at my place?
”Oh no, I’m not giving you any chance to just distract yourself,” Olivia said, “I mean, you’ve got college next year or so, I can’t have a classmate leave school with failing grades.” She almost slammed her hands down on Charlotte’s desk there.
Charlotte sighed and leaned back, even moving to put her legs up on her desk. “Seriously Olivia, why do you even care? Like, just focus on your own grades if you’re so obsessed with college,” she said, then muttered, “Not like your career prospects are that good anyway, Miss Theatre Director.””
Wow, dick move Charlotte. Why is Olivia even helping you, seriously?
Also, if they aren't at a cafe, and they aren't at either of their houses, then where are they I wonder? I wouldn't neccessarily be wondering, but the text has made a point of saying where they aren't and not where they are, which kind of teases the reader's curiosity. Hopefully intentional, if it's leading up to the reveal of them being in some kind of weird environment that you wouldn't normally expect a couple high school seniors to be studying in.
“Olivia, straining not to fume, stepped over and pulled Charlotte on her chair right back down. “Well, you’re right in one way, I shouldn’t need to have to whip you back into shape like this. Charlotte, what happened to you?” Olivia then asked, her gaze softening, “You used to be top of the class, before... well something or other happened, I don’t know.”
Charlotte twitched, then had to say, “Hey, whatever ‘happened’ to me is my own business.”
Her eyes narrowed, Olivia asked, “You’re still mad about your fencing loss, aren’t you?”
”What, that?” Charlotte sighed, then shrugged, “Yeah, guess I am. Like, being good at fencing was the whole reason this school even cared about me.”
Olivia sighed back, “Charlotte, honestly, you know that’s not true.”
That only caused a wicked smirk to cover Charlotte’s face. “Really, got any proof of that? Like, how many kids my age have I even talked to lately. Well, besides you, but we’re speaking only ‘cause I’d make the class look bad or whatever.””
Damn. I guess she was banking on a fencing scholarship, or something.
I think Charlotte needs a therapist instead of a longsuffering friend-tutor. Not that I'm blaming her for this, necessarily. I've heard the horror stories about what, eg, American student football and basketball leagues have done to otherwise promising and well-adjusted young people. I could easily imagine a world where fencing leagues do the same thing, assuming they don't already IRL in some place or another.
Anyway, if Olivia isn't just helping Charlotte because the school is pressuring her, then she's the real MVP for sticking by Charlotte even while she lashes out like this.
““I can’t believe you!” Olivia did fume this time, before she pointed to the door, “Alright, y’know, fine! Head straight home if you’re just gonna act that way.”
Charlotte cocked her head for a second, this sounded to her more than a little like reverse psychology. Still keeping one eye on Olivia, she said, “Alright, fine,” and began to walk towards the classroom door. But when she saw Olivia wasn’t budging or revealing her bluff, Charlotte then stopped, not sure how to respond. Eventually, she just ran off.
F-Fine, be that way. Friggin’ Olivia, like I care about grades or- or college! Charlotte, heading off, was tempted to shout back, but could only muster silence. Not that her thoughts ceased. What would you know? Some of us just don’t have a future…”
Guess they were in a classroom. A little anticlimactic. Probably would have been better to mention that in one of the first few paragraphs, since it isn't any kind of twist.
Anyway, If Charlotte isn't already on drugs, I suspect she'll get on them soon if she continues along this trajectory. I love how absolutely unconvinced and unconvincing she sounds in that last internal monologue where she's trying to reassure herself that no, it's everyone else who's wrong.
That's the first scene. Our protagonist isn't remotely likable, but she is sympathetic. You can see the outside pressures that moulded her into this when she was too young and suggestible to resist, so rather than being eager to see the fall come after the pride the reader is hoping she'll get better before it can bite her too much.
It's a risk, making the reader dislike the POV character but also hoping to get them invested in her. Not the easiest needle to thread. I think that this story manages it pretty well, though. Maybe it's just because I've had enough semi-direct exposure to the horror of US* high school/college sports that my mind automatically fills in the blanks in a way that favors Charlotte, but if the target audience is people like me then that means it works.
Next scene.
*I don't know if the author is American, but I also don't know what intramural sports are like in whatever country she's from, so it might be the same or it might not be.
“Not that Charlotte wanted to go home, but of course, where else was there? There had been times when she’d thought of running away, a few years ago she’d even gotten a knapsack ready and nearly left through her window, but naturally she choked at the last minute.”
Ah. Looks like we're getting to the reason for the chapter title. If she's been thinking of running away from home for "a few years," then that heavily implies that she's had a bad family situation since well before she had a bad school/sports situation.
The former can definitely feed into the latter. In any number of ways, depending on exactly what kind of terrible the family situation is.
“Well, Etoile de Sant Michel was a pleasant enough town, at least. If you like ‘pleasant’, Charlotte thought. It was basically one big hill on this side of the river, occupied by mainly grey stone buildings and faded white houses decorated with wooden X marks and thatched roofs. A tourist could call it quaint or scenic, but it wasn’t like the town had had many of those lately.
Charlotte’s house, or Honoré’s house as it more often felt like, was one of the few modern buildings in town. Modern-ish. It was a brown-bricked house with a dark red roof, windows painted white, and perhaps most notably built on an incline, as the hill sloped down to the riverbed. One flood and we’d be finished, Charlotte thought not for the first time.”
Sounds like we're either in France, or a former French colony.
Or maybe in the French part of Belgium, idk.
““Hey, I’m home!” she shouted as she knocked, a minute or so later she wondered why she even bothered. The door creaked open, with Charlotte tempted for a second to swing it r8ght into the wall to see if her father Honoré would react, only to remember she tried and failed back when she was twelve or something.”
Either that's a typo, or a number-monster is invading Charlotte's brain.
“The green-walled, wood-panelled interior was standard for houses in this end of France, though the only other house Charlotte got invited to these days was Olivia’s for cramming. The regularly dusted bookshelves would probably be the most distinguishing feature, most of their contents her father’s. Reading was yet another thing Charlotte ‘used to do more of’, nowadays she did only maybe when she had a book report due. Or whenever Olivia drags me into some production of hers.
There was two places Honoré was likely to be, cloistered in his study or at ‘work’. That was the description, or lack thereof, he’d given Charlotte, though she was able to surmise that it involved some sort of research position. Meh, if his job means I have less to do with him, like I care what it is, she told herself.”
A bunch more typos here. This scene as a whole could use an editing sweep.
Anyway, father Honore is distant, overbearing, and mysterious. His own daughter doesn't know what his work entails, and she doesn't even care to know either. The way it's written suggests that this is mostly an Honore problem rather than a Charlotte problem.
Does she have siblings? Not yet clear. Her mother hasn't been mentioned yet either, I don't think.
The mystery work involves lots of cloistered reading. Going by the stated genre of the story, Honore is a wizard or something adjacent to that. And, in keeping with the Type Moon parallels, being a wizard and being a shit parent seem to be correlated.
“She headed up to the attic, a portion of which had been allocated as her bedroom. She instinctively dropped her schoolbag right down on the floor, only for it to risk breaking and falling it through the floorboards. Charlotte flinched but relaxed herself on seeing her ceiling-floor had remain intact. For now.”
Fucking hell this is some fairy tale Cindarella shit. It almost sounds like he keeps forgetting he has a daughter at all, and she's just sort of Sixth Sense style edging her way in along the edges of his life while he ignores her.
“Charlotte’s side of the attic, closed off by a hoisted-up curtain, was mostly a mess of scattered papers and computer equipment, which still didn’t improve said computer’s performance. A cupboard and unmade bed rounded off the basics, which left most prized possessions. First was a series of fencing trophies… the most recent already quite a while ago. They weren’t the only trophies she’d won, she’d gotten quite a few for multiple subjects… all the way back in primary school. The second was what at first looked like just a school photo, but upon sliding it out of its frame, the real treasure close to Charlotte’s heart was revealed.
This hidden photo showed her five-year-old self standing and smiling next to a boy her age, a Victorian-dressed brunette woman with hair more lustrous than hers ever got, and well, Honoré, or rather his younger self. Still hadn’t stopped Charlotte from smearing liquid paper over her father’s picture.
Oh, the woman and the boy were still alive, well last she’d heard anyway, having seen neither since the divorce. She couldn’t help but think of what her mother could be doing now, even if Charlotte felt she honestly had no reason to care. Dear old Mum left me to Honoré, shows how much she cared about me, she thought. Her brother Etienne was the same age as her, so she knew he logically couldn’t bear any of the blame… but that didn’t stop her from thinking: Why did she pick you? How come you were lucky enough to not get stuck with Honoré?”
Honore seems to have cared enough about his children to take custody of one of them.
Or maybe it's just that her mother really disliked her, and Honore was too apathetic to say no to being left with her.
Charlotte used to be an accomplished student, rather than just an accomplished fencer. And lately even her fencing has been going downhill as she falls apart emotionally. A sad story, told in school trophies.
Well. I suspect this bizarre divorce story has much more going on with it behind the scenes.
“Charlotte hid her family photo again. Not because she’d heard her father coming, a father who was in no mood for any reminder of his divorce, the house was as silent as ever. No, because she couldn’t stand to look at it anymore, the photo whose whole point was supposed to remind her of better times had now only left her scowling. Thoughts that were meant to be happy just devolved to spite.
Charlotte then noticed all the homework she had, not helping her mood. Olivia of course came to mind again, Olivia who had never been through a parental divorce, who’d never had a winning streak so utterly broken in front of her whole school. But then Charlotte’s stance shifted. Guess I should give Olivia a break? Yeah, she’s a nag and a teacher’s pet, but… who else ever talks to me on a regular basis? Even if I’m more of a ‘project’ to her, really. Maybe, ugh, maybe I should apologise for earlier. Or not, she’s gonna butt in again soon enough, so what’d be the point?”
So Honore does care that he got divorced, at least. But doesn't care about his daughter. A strange individual for sure.
Happy memories turning into spite at their loss. Love of her brother being spoiled by envy. The present retroactively eating the past. It's emotionally exhausting stuff.
Charlotte is getting easier and easier to pity. But then, I'm also holding out until we actually see Honore himself before I conclude that her perceptions are entirely accurate. The attic thing is pretty damned incriminating, but I'll give the guy just a little benefit of the doubt.
“A sudden creak from below, louder than usual, jolted Charlotte out of her back-and-forth thoughts. She thought to go downstairs to investigate, but then she doubted it’d turn out to be anything, likely just the house acting up again. Not that going downstairs wasn’t a good idea, it was about time to be scrounging herself together some dinner.”
ba-ba-ba-DOOK-DOOK-DOOK
“In fact, turned out it was something, as upon heading downstairs Charlotte twitched as she noticed two bookcases had been pushed apart, leaving a small gap between them. Had Honoré been about to rearrange the room before deciding not to bother?”
Oh shit, Honore left the secret entrance to the alchemy lab exposed! Cue plot!
“The gap was narrow enough that Charlotte couldn’t tell if she’d be able to squeeze herself in, but taking a deep breath, she only just managed to sidle on through. She winced as her sides chafed, but that discomfort was immediately overtaken by shock when she saw what lay behind the bookcases. A staircase that plummeted downwards, looking like it was made of some advanced type of glass, with two eerie green pulses on either side giving the only light.
I’ve-I’ve gotta be seeing things. The basement’s too damp and marshy for anything like this to be built in it, Charlotte thought, having to pinch herself more than once. This strange, sci-fi staircase only reaffirming itself as real, Charlotte then looked back, thinking that turning around would stop any trouble before it could start. And then thought otherwise. Yeah, as if! Honoré’s already keeps way too much from me, so whatever the hell he’s got under the house, I have the right to know by now!”
Not thrilled with this description. "Some type of advanced glass" doesn't do a great job of telling me what to imagine. A character in a scifi story describing something as "scifi" is not conducive to immersion. Two "pulses" of light at its sides? Like, just a strobing light hovering in the air? Or, is it supposed to be strips of electrical lighting running down the walls? The word "pulse" implies that it only exists momentarily, which I don't think is the author's intent. Pulsing would mean that the light is repeatedly brightening and darkening.
That last bit may be because English isn't the author's first language (between the username and the setting of the story, I figure she's a native French speaker). Or it could just be a typo of "pulsing lights" that I'm overthinking. Either way, like I said before, this chapter could use just a bit of proofreading.
I feel like we could maybe use just a toooouch more mental deliberation from Charlotte, also. This is the first weird/supernatural thing she's encountered, right? Her reaction seems understated in a way that doesn't quite fit the character.
None of these problems are major, and they should each be easy to fix. I probably wouldn't even be commenting if there weren't a few of them all together in a very critical pair of paragraphs.
...heh, I'm lapsing into editor mode. Sorry.
Anyway, she's going down. Careful Charlotte. You heard the sounds. Might want to make sure you've got an anti-babadook weapon onhand before you do this.
“If the entrance to… wherever this was looked sort of sci-fi,”
sigh...
“the chamber down the stairs and through the corridor didn’t hold back. It was a circular room festooned with hypnotic lights, murmuring monitors, spherical devices of whatever possible purpose and… was that a hologram projector? Amid it all, none other than Charlotte’s father stood in the centre on a raised platform, already conversing with the holographic projections of a group of complete strangers to Charlotte.”
Descriptions are understated, but still mostly effective.
The story's descriptive blurb had me expecting a much more conventionally "occult" set of aesthetics. The high tech supervillain lair complete with Star Wars style holoconference machines is a surprise.
Anyway, here's our first look at dear old dad. He doesn't seem to have noticed her presence. Granted, with how he left the secret passageway exposed he might have just forgotten that she exists again.
““I’m afraid to give an uneventful report, but given you’re not in the mood for surprises, that’s naturally what you want. Isn’t it?” Honoré chuckled in his deep rasp. Like his daughter he was on the lanky side, his blondish-auburn hair wiry and straw-like unlike his daughter’s fuller brown. His gaze was hidden behind scarlet shades, and while he was never one for dressing casually, the black-jacketed, white-trousered uniform he wore still looked strange to Charlotte.”
He also gets much more detailed description than Charlotte or her friend Olivia ever did, even if the story is at least describing Charlotte using him as a reference point now.
“Speaking of her, she was able to duck and hide beneath the platform’s circular edge as these hologram people asked her father, “So this Future Psyche remains stable? No insurgencies have emerged? No Remembered Dead summoned on its own? No events that may ‘inconvenience’ our True Future?”‘”
"Speaking of her?" When did Charlotte stop being the viewpoint character and central focus of the story?
Sounds like Charlotte's father Loves Lain and wants everyone else to do the same.
“Future Psyche? Remembered Dead? True Future? The Hell are they talking about? Was all the crouching Charlotte could think.”
Speaking of her.
““See for yourself,” Honoré said, as he then uploaded a series of images to all the monitors. All these images displayed were normal scenes from Etoile de Sant Michel and the surrounding countryside... including more than a few taken from within Charlotte’s school.
Though Charlotte had no love lost for her father, the fact that he, for whatever twisted reason, had been setting up cameras in her school, or had hacked any existing cameras, made her want to lunge out. Oh, you want an insurgency? I’ll give you an insurgency, tete de merde! Only at the last second did her self-preservation get the better of her.”
He "uploaded" these images to the screens? I don't think that's the right word.
What makes Charlotte think her father has hidden cameras, rather than him having taken or paid other people to take photos by hand? I guess if the pictures are all from ceiling angles that would suggest it, but there's no description to that effect.
““Well then, Agent Chretien, your efforts have been more than satisfactory,” whoever these transmissions were agreed on, “Of course, we will contact your fellow Officer assigned to this Future Psyche to compile our full report.”
”I see…” Honoré said, any cockiness he had suddenly gone. Before he could then sign off, he and these mysterious transmissions then proclaimed in unison, “Ave Horologium! Ave Verum Futurum!””
"Let's All Love Lain."
More seriously, the direct translation from Latin is "Hail the Timekeeper! Hail the True Future!"
Seems like this is more like urban science-fantasy, with the magical stuff and the futuristic stuff sharing the same hidden underworld. Or maybe the futuristic-looking accessories are all just magitech with a Star Wars aesthetic.
“That motto or whatever flew completely over Charlotte’s head. Hail… Hail True… she tried to recall what little Latin she remembered, but she was then distracted by a series of flashing lights that were emitted from the platform once the ‘Horologium’ people had gone. Red-Purple-Purple-Blue-Red. This was then followed by a loud click, like something had been firmly locked into place.
Honoré then turned to go, but as he got the stairs leading back, he stopped for a second. Charlotte was deer meets headlights as her father almost looked back, but a stroke of luck saw him just shake his head and walk back up the stairs.
Charlotte waited to make sure he really was gone, but then found she may’ve waited too long when a loud screech and thump came from atop the stairs. Scrambling up there, she gasped on seeing that Honoré had shut the bookcase door behind her, with her unable to find any knob or switch with which to open it from within here. She had no idea whether trapping her in here was his intent, but she’d already decided he was a bastard either way.”
Their relationship is sufficiently bad that she'd rather stay locked down here than try shouting for him to help her.
Anyway, this definitely doesn't seem intentional on Honore's part, but I could be wrong.
“She took a while to rein herself in, but on doing so, her instinct was to head back to the chamber with the control panel. It had to have some way of getting out of here, surely. Not that Charlotte could make heads or tails out of anything there upon walking back down, worried that anything she touched would alter ‘Horologium’ again.”
It took a while to reign herself in from doing what, exactly? Screaming for help? NOT screaming for help?
Also, why is she attaching so much importance to the word "horologium" in particular? She seems to have decided that that's the name of the device, or the organization, or something, but why? They threw a lot of other important esoteric-sounding names around too, you know?
“Checking the central platform, she did notice that the dais her father had stood by did have a colour wheel attached, which likely explained the lights. Those coloured lights had made enough of an impression that Charlotte had little trouble inputting the sequence again here… only for the dais to whirr and buzz in response, like she’d done something wrong. She took a step back, not wanting to touch it again for fear she’d blare forth an alarm… only to then try again, figuring she had little other lead on getting out of here.”
This part could use much more tactile description, I think. Her touching, poking at, turning the dials. Where each color is in relation to the others as she puzzles over the controls. Etc.
Also, is this color wheel another computerized device, or something more primitive and mechanical like I'm currently picturing?
“This time though, she inputted the colour sequence in reverse (red-blue-purple-purple-red), and sighed with relief upon being greeted by an affirmative ting. The dais then no less than opened right up, presenting before her a dark green disc that looked almost like a buckler, right size too. No, on second thought it reminded her of something else entirely. Wait, I know! The Antikythera Mechanism, from all my History classes. Not that I can remember any teacher saying one insightful thing about the device, and I doubt Honoré of all people got his hands on anything more than a copy. But copy or no, what’s some astronomical proto-computer thing doing here?”
I stopped and looked up "Antikythera Mechanism," and it turns out I did know what it was, just not what it was called.
That handcrank-powered astronomical predictor that gets rushed through along with some other ancient curiosities in the first chapter of your Intro To Computer Science textbook.
That's probably the horologium they were talking about. Or at least, a symbolic representation of it. I'm guessing that in this story's world, the Antikythera device had a magical function rather than just computing stellar conjunctions.
“She reached out to touch this ‘Antikythera’, only for it to spring forward in a split second and attach itself to her left arm, clamping in place right where a buckler would be. Though the mechanism was doing no further harm, Charlotte still gritted her teeth and hissed as she tried to yank the thing off, only for her to send it spinning like an old telephone dial.”
That is some really, really bare bones description for such a terrifying and tactile event. It feels like someone writing a summary of a scene someone else wrote.
“Which, somehow, made a great shining light flare out of its core...”
I guess she's a magical girl now. Or a babadook. Babadook in a miniskirt. Sure.
End of chapter.
There was a very sharp dropoff in prose quality after Charlotte found the secret bunker. The writing was nicely detailed and well paced for the most part (a few typos and questionable turns of phrase aside) until then. After that point, it seemed like the author was just trying to get things over with as fast as possible.
Structurally, I like how this chapter is put together. I think there's kind of a golden template for introducing an urban fantasy (or adjacent genre) story, and this chapter is a really good example of it.
Introduce a mundane-seeming character in a mundane-seeming world, and give the reader a reason to care about them.
Start bringing in the weirdness at around the halfway point, after the reader has had a chance to get invested and find their bearings.
End the chapter with the call to adventure.
Do it all in 5,000 words tops.
This isn't the only good way to start such a story. It isn't necessarily the best way. I'm not saying that all stories in the same genre should follow the same structure, that would get boring fast. But, it's a reliably good and effective way that I would definitely recommend to starting SF/F writers. Anyway, this is a very characteristic example, and I think its effectiveness speaks for itself even with the uneven prose.
The best part of the chapter was definitely Charlotte. How well conceptualized she is. I said before that it's hard to make a sympathetic but unlikeable character who can keep audience investment, and the author nailed it here. The pace of the reveals about her family history, her downward social and academic trajectories, etc was masterful, and give the story some stakes right from the beginning (the road Charlotte's been stumbling down does not lead to good places).
Overall? It could use another editing pass, especially in the second half, but it's got a lot going for it and I wouldn't mind reading more.
