The lights of the tunnel whipped by, lighting up the cabin like a flickering strobe. Kane closed his eyes and rested his head on the window behind him, enveloped in air-conditioned cool. The throb of the train was lolling him to sleep. Forget the theatre. She’d understand. He‘d ride the subway to the end of the line, to Brighton Beach and back again, dozing to the rhythm of wheels clattering on tracks.
But Alison wouldn’t understand.
She’d be sore if he didn’t show. In any case, he knew he wouldn’t sleep.
The train shuddered to a halt with a squeal of brakes. As the doors opened, the hot crowd heaved inside, polluting the cabin like a gust of stale breath. Through the window Kane could make out the last few people trying desperately to squeeze inside before the doors lurched closed. Poor suckers. No wonder subway suicides were so high. You could suffocate in these underground stations. They were dug too deep, too close to the core. The reception halls of Hell.
The doors closed and they lurched forward like an overloaded cattle train. Kane could no longer doze. For the rest of the trip he sat there gritting his teeth, jostled by passengers, trying not to breathe in the reek that seemed to grow stronger with every passing station. He made it to Brooklyn and got out at Atlantic Avenue, relieved at last to escape. But there was no relief above ground. The air shimmered with heat and the street rang with the noise of traffic snarling down Flatbush. He felt his headache returning.
With commentary:
The lights of the tunnel whipped by, lighting up the cabin like a flickering strobe.
(I love this - to me, it immediately set the scene in a train.)
Kane closed his eyes and rested his head on the window behind him, enveloped in air-conditioned cool.
(I could be really nit picky here, and say the 'cool' is gratuitous after 'air-conditioned', but I honestly don't mind it from a stylistic perspective. Were we talking poetry I'd be fussier, as each word holds more individual weight in a shorter piece. For a novel, each sentence doesn't have to be world's most carefully crafted glass flower - get the mood right, and you'll keep the reader happy.)
The throb of the train was lolling him to sleep.
(This is a word choice issue for me - I suspect that 'lulling' would be a more desirable verb than 'lolling'. The first is to soothe into a relaxed state, while 'lolling' is to hang in a loose or lazy manner, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense in this context.)
Forget the theatre. She’d understand. He‘d ride the subway to the end of the line, to Brighton Beach and back again, dozing to the rhythm of wheels clattering on tracks.
(No issues here - without spelling it out, we know where Kane is, why he's there, what his conflict is. Nice. Plus, the writer has further established location -a subway - and if you've a little more information, what city he's in - New York - without resorting to an info-dump.)
But Alison wouldn’t understand.
(Nice way to introduce the name of the other character, easy and subtle.)
She’d be sore if he didn’t show. In any case, he knew he wouldn’t sleep.
(The use of 'sore' here is quite a bit dated, which pulled me out a touch. In the time period which 'sore', 'gee whiz' and the like would be common vernacular, the subway wasn't air-conditioned. I'm not sure which is the anachronism. So far, it's niggly, but not a total deal breaker.
The second sentence is a touch ambivalent - will he not sleep in the theater, or on the train now that he's thinking about Alison? This alone isn't a deal breaker either, but pile enough 'almosts' into the first paragraph, and I'll put the book down and look for something else.)
The train shuddered to a halt with a squeal of brakes. As the doors opened, the hot crowd heaved inside, polluting the cabin like a gust of stale breath.
(While the first metaphor felt smooth, this one feels a little obtuse and forced. How much metaphor can you get away with on the first page? Depends totally on the writer. Personally, I'd drop this one as the hot, heaving crowd is a nice clear visual without the addition.)
Through the window Kane could make out the last few people trying desperately to squeeze inside before the doors lurched closed. Poor suckers. No wonder subway suicides were so high. You could suffocate in these underground stations. They were dug too deep, too close to the core. The reception halls of Hell.
(Nicely inside Kane's head without any author insert, which is good. It seems like Kane is subject to a bit of melodrama, but his voice is consistent. I do wonder if it would become overmuch in a novel-length piece, but I honestly can't tell from the excerpt. So far, so good.)
The doors closed and they lurched forward like an overloaded cattle train.
(About now, that 'not deal breaker' has become a deal breaker. The metaphor that broke the cattle train? Anyhow, I'd like to see this writer using some more visual cues to lead the reader to this conclusion, rather than yet another metaphor. This one adds no depth, and feels like a lazy answer, rather than adding visual information to provide an emotional cue.
As you can see, the writing doesn't have to be bad to get a pass - it would completely depend upon what else crossed my desk that day. Were I reading for submission, I'd ask for more pages to see if the problems compiled or resolved themselves.)
Kane could no longer doze. For the rest of the trip he sat there gritting his teeth, jostled by passengers, trying not to breathe in the reek that seemed to grow stronger with every passing station.
(This last sentence feels just a little bit awkward. I suspect that either breaking up the sentence into two or adding a semi-colon would give the needed mental breathing room.)
He made it to Brooklyn and got out at Atlantic Avenue, relieved at last to escape. But there was no relief above ground. The air shimmered with heat and the street rang with the noise of traffic snarling down Flatbush.
(I'm not a big fan of 'but there was no relief', because he's relieved in the sentence before. Contradictory. If the reader was allowed to follow him emotionally - rushing toward the surface in anticipation, only to be disappointed, for instance - then there'd be a space of time, and the feelings would be both clearer and make more sense.
The air shimmered with heat - eh, I'd like to see a slightly less overused wording; same with 'rang with noise'. I've yet to hear traffic ring, either - blare, snarl, cacophony - sure. Ringing makes me think of phones, bells, clear voices echoing; but doesn't really make me think of the total noise of traffic. This is my opinion, your mileage may vary.)
He felt his headache returning.
(? This is the first the reader's heard of it - is it chronic?)
Were I reading for submission, this would probably be a pass, but just barely. And that stuff is highly subjective, another reader might absolutely love it as is.
Were I browsing a bookstore, if this were on the markdown shelf or the used bookstore, I'd give it a whirl. Doubt if I'd pay full price. Again, this is just my taste.
Thanks, Robbie, for putting your work on the chopping block, and much success in your future!
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