Page 1 critique - "The Hollow Mage" by Ioana Visan

I'm critiquing some page 1s - read about it here.

First the disclaimers.

It's very hard to separate one's tastes from a technical critique. There are page 1s from popular books with which I would find multiple faults. I didn't, for example, like page 1 of Terry Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule (I didn't pursue the rest of the book). But that book has 150,000+ ratings on Goodreads, a great average score of 4.12 and Goodkind is a #1 NYT bestseller. His first page clearly did a great job for many people.

I'm not always right *hushed gasp*. You will likely be able to find a successful and highly respected author who will tell you the opposite to practically every bit of advice I give. Possibly not the same author in each case though.

The art of receiving criticism is to take what's useful to you and discard the rest. You need sufficient confidence in your own vision/voice such that whilst criticism may cause you to adjust course you're not about to do a U-turn for anyone. If you act on every bit of advice you'll get crit-burn, your story will be pulled in different directions by different people. It will stop being yours and turn into some Frankenstein's monster that nobody will ever want to read.

Additionally - don't get hurt or look for revenge. The person critiquing you is almost always trying to help you (it's true in some groups there will be the occasional person who is jealous/mean/misguided but that's the exception, not the rule). That person has put in effort on your behalf. If they don't like your prose it's not personal - they didn't just slap your baby.


I've flicked through some of the pages looking for one where I have something to say - something that hopefully is useful to the author and to anyone else reading the post.


I've posted the unadulterated page first then again with comments inset and at the end.

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The Hollow Mage

By Ioana Visan

The carriage pulled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the knickers of the horses passing through the thin walls, and a moment later, the stocky driver opened the door. “This is as far as I go.”

Allia frowned at the narrow path splitting from the main road and going up the slope to the blue house at the top of the hill.

“But…”

Ignoring her protest, the driver brought her trunk from the back of the carriage and dumped it in the mud on the side of the road. “Off you go.”

 “If it’s money—”

“There’s not enough money in the world to make me go up there.” The man shook his head. “He’s way too weird.”

As if to prove his point, thick smoke rose from the chimney and painted the sky pink.

With a huff, Allia bunched up her skirts in her fists and climbed out of the carriage.

The driver bowed apologetically before returning to his seat. “Good luck, Miss.”

She could have punished him in several creative ways for his insolence, but since she needed to keep a low profile, Allia settled for a glare aimed at the departing carriage.

Drawing in a deep breath, she checked the road. Empty. Everyone had already rushed home for supper, wary of being caught out after nightfall. The recent peace and prosperity hadn’t put an end to the thieves. Allia stifled a shiver brought both by concern and cold.

Okay, time to move. The trunk lay morosely in the mud, too heavy for her to lift it even on a good day. With another glance around to make sure there were no witnesses lurking in the distance, she summoned a gust of wind to lift it off the ground and carry it along with her. The trunk wavered, she hadn’t used her powers since she entered the country, but her determination held it up.

The house became bigger as she approached it. Blue walls the color of the sky on a sunny summer day, darker blue roof and porch, no fence, and no flowers. Despite the sun having gone down over the hill, surrounding the outline of the house with an orange halo, no light cheered the windows. Far from being a palace, as long as there was hot water and a bed, she wasn’t complaining.

Allia set the trunk on the porch, smoothed her cloak, and knocked on the cracked front door. Then waited, and waited. Was he doing it on purpose? He’d been informed of her arrival. Cold and annoyed, she knocked again, harder this time.

“What?” The door snapped back, and a tall, lean man filled the opening. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.” Violet eyes peered at her, shadowed by the light mauve hair falling down his forehead and reaching to the collar of his blue redingote.

Oh, he was one of those. Allia missed her former master who favored black and wasn’t subjected to mood swings.

“Good, because I’m not selling anything,” she said. “I’m your new apprentice.”


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The Hollow Mage

By Ioana Visan

The carriage pulled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the knickers of the horses passing through the thin walls, and a moment later, the stocky driver opened the door. 

'Knickers' are women's underpants ... the imagery is amusing but I can't visualize them passing through walls, thin or otherwise. You want 'nickers' there. And people know carriages have thin walls - it's wasted description. 'The carriage pulled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, the horses nickering.' does the job.

“This is as far as I go.”

Allia frowned at the narrow path splitting from the main road and going up the slope to the blue house at the top of the hill.

“But…”

Ignoring her protest, the driver brought her trunk from the back of the carriage and dumped it in the mud on the side of the road.

The scene is perhaps too reminiscent of a bunch of vampire (& other films) where a young woman is delivered by an unfriendly driver to a remote and spooky new home.

 “Off you go.”

 “If it’s money—”

“There’s not enough money in the world to make me go up there.” The man shook his head. “He’s way too weird.”

As if to prove his point, thick smoke rose from the chimney and painted the sky pink.

If it were Count Dracula I would buy his reluctance. I'm having a harder job seeing why weirdness wins over money. Pink smoke doesn't seem too threatening...

Since this pink smoke appears to have emerged just that moment (rather than having been coming from the chimney all the while) it might pay to make this clearer - 'a puff of pink smoke broke from the chimney' etc

With a huff, Allia bunched up her skirts in her fists and climbed out of the carriage.

The driver bowed apologetically before returning to his seat. “Good luck, Miss.”

She could have punished him in several creative ways for his insolence, but since she needed to keep a low profile, Allia settled for a glare aimed at the departing carriage.

This seems a little off. Bowing, apologising, and wishing good luck don't hit me as particularly insolent. Such reaction would play better closer to the trunk dumping and refusal.

I don't have a good picture of the setting - I imagine (from my vampire house stereotype) this to be an isolated dwelling in some deserted moor? If true - who is she keeping a low profile from?

Drawing in a deep breath, she checked the road. Empty. Everyone had already rushed home for supper, wary of being caught out after nightfall. The recent peace and prosperity hadn’t put an end to the thieves.

Thieves could be burglars and pickpockets - might want something more threatening like 'bandits'?
Could establish the time of day earlier when looking up at the house. The threat of nightfall is a useful one - removing the possibility of doing much other than going up to the house.

 Allia stifled a shiver brought both by concern and cold.

Okay, time to move. The trunk lay morosely in the mud, too heavy for her to lift it even on a good day.

I would lose 'morosely'. 

Either she's really weak or the driver was really strong! She might struggle to carry it up hill - but to not even be able to lift it when he unloaded it without complaint?  

With another glance around to make sure there were no witnesses lurking in the distance, she summoned a gust of wind to lift it off the ground and carry it along with her. The trunk wavered, she hadn’t used her powers since she entered the country, but her determination held it up.

The house is puffing pink smoke and the driver won't go near. Why is she so scared of someone seeing her do magic?

I can buy her determination + magic holding the trunk up. A gust of wind though? It would have to be a hurricane... just sounds odd.

The house became bigger as she approached it.

I doubt it... but if it really did you need to make more of it. And if this is just perspective / 'things that are far away look small' then it's a waste of time mentioning it.

If she is surprised to discover how big the house is and her first impressions of its size were misleading for some reason - that requires better explanation.

 Blue walls the color of the sky on a sunny summer day, darker blue roof and porch, no fence, and no flowers. 

Despite the sun having gone down over the hill, surrounding the outline of the house with an orange halo, no light cheered the windows. 

This sentence is a bit of a mouthful and the middle bit disconnects the two ends somewhat.

Far from being a palace, as long as there was hot water and a bed, she wasn’t complaining.

And this sentence doesn't really hold together. I know what you want to say but the words don't quite say it. Small additions could fix it: 'It was far from being a palace, but as long' etc.

Allia set the trunk on the porch, smoothed her cloak, and knocked on the cracked front door. Then waited, and waited. Was he doing it on purpose? He’d been informed of her arrival. Cold and annoyed, she knocked again, harder this time.

“What?” The door snapped back, and a tall, lean man filled the opening. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.” Violet eyes peered at her, shadowed by the light mauve hair falling down his forehead and reaching to the collar of his blue redingote.

There has a been an awful lot of colour description - all about the house, the smoke, the walls, the roof, and the man's hair, eye, and coat. Some other types of visuals would be good and also some non-visuals (textures, sounds, temperatures, smells) - replacing some of the colour-stuff perhaps rather than additionally.

I had to look up 'redingote' and I suspect most other people would have to as well. Better not to throw strange words at the reader where more common ones would do.

Oh, he was one of those. Allia missed her former master who favored black and wasn’t subjected to mood swings.

“Good, because I’m not selling anything,” she said. “I’m your new apprentice.”

+++++++++

I put a fair amount of red in up there. It's all pretty minor stuff. My impression is of a rather light-hearted book and as such the tension you present (apprentice having to move in with weird magician) serves. Though perhaps if his weirdness runs to more than a taste for garish colour schemes we could get a hint of what it might entail.

It might help the reader to get invested / attached to the character if she showed some trepidation or aspiration / anticipation. If she were worried or excited or hopeful that makes her more interesting (to me) than her irritation with the driver.

But yes I can see a fan of Diana Wynne Jones turning the page to see if you can capture them by the end of the chapter.

Offered in the spirit of fun - this from the pen of Helen Forte