Paragraph Review Five - "Sounds of a Dying Universe" by Collodi

     If you strain your ear hard enough to the heavens and wait for that moment when the wind dies down and traffic stops, you can hear the sound of the universe dying. Not a moan like a dog's whimper or a groan like a man sucking out his last breath, the sound of the dying universe is a perfect b-flat note. Playing for twenty billion years, I often imagine that celestial note hanging like the reverberations of a piano gasping out Chopin's Sonata No. 2 in b-flat minor, Op. 35. Though it brings me to tears, on dark nights when I pour back red wine and watch the river pass by my window, I listen to Chopin and wait for the universe to end. So far, it hasn't happened. When it does, I will surely miss Chopin.




And my thoughts, for what they're worth (by the way, consider me floored):

 If you strain your ear hard enough to the heavens and wait for that moment when the wind dies down and traffic stops, you can hear the sound of the universe dying.

(The first part of this sentence rides the edge of too long, but it still works.)

 Not a moan like a dog's whimper or a groan like a man sucking out his last breath, the sound of the dying universe is a perfect b-flat note.

(This is just neat.  Besides being the default note for clarinets, there's some Gregorian chant significance to b-flat, as well as the diatonic tonal system - where the b-flat was a source of controversy.  The turn of phrase is elegant without additional information; but the added significance of this particular tone lends layered meaning to the statement.  Nicely done.)

 Playing for twenty billion years, I often imagine that celestial note hanging like the reverberations of a piano gasping out Chopin's Sonata No. 2 in b-flat minor, Op. 35.

(Can you see the speaker yet?  While I don't know exactly who they are, the topic and the voice make me feel like I've a pretty good connection with this character's emotions and thought patterns.)

 Though it brings me to tears, on dark nights when I pour back red wine and watch the river pass by my window, I listen to Chopin and wait for the universe to end.

(Here, we sport both the place and an activity.  Both vague enough that the reader doesn't know exactly where we are, but we sure know who we're with!)

 So far, it hasn't happened. When it does, I will surely miss Chopin.

You know how I keep ranting about starting with the action, place, etc?  If you can pull off something like this, don't worry about it.  Why does it work?

Voice.  I may not even know the gender of this character yet (I'm guessing male) but I know exactly how they think, and what emotional state they're in.  Most importantly, it's interesting.  I care what's going to happen next.

The single most important thing you can reach for in writing fiction is this thing I call the 'give a damn'.  It's the reader caring what's going to happen next.  Once you've got that, people will keep reading because they NEED to know what's going to happen.  The 'give a damn' is more important than a clever turn of phrase or a plot point - it's where the reader is emotionally invested in the story, and curious about it.  That emotional investment makes or breaks a story, and this one has it, in spades.

I'll buy this when it comes out.