A good page made needlessly confusing (page critique)

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Now then. Time for the Page Critique. First I’ll present the page without comment, then I’ll offer my thoughts and a redline. If you choose to offer your own thoughts, please be polite. We aim to be positive and helpful.

Random numbers were generated, and thanks to GaoYuQing, whose page is below:

Title: Born to Battle

Markus staggered under the weight of the dead body, finally falling to one knee in exhaustion. After two days, his fur and armor were stiff with dried blood, its copper tang lingering in his nostrils. Around him, the rest of the band walked in respectful silence, not looking at him, having learned not to offer help to their captain. Two other dead bodies floated in mid-air beside them, the magical strain shared among the group, but Markus would let no other help him with Gravin, nor invoke the assistance of magic to lessen the load. This burden belonged to him. The weight on his shoulders, the buzzing of the carrion flies, the aching and grinding weariness in his muscles, the pain of his severed tail—all of these only the start of the penance that lay on him much heavier than any corpse. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself to stand once more, trying not to think of the final confrontation that lay before him—the presentation of the body to Kess, Gravin’s wife.

Kess, the only love Markus had ever known over the centuries of his life. The pain on her face, the cries of their children would lay his grief and shame bare far worse than any whip flagellating his flesh. Worst of all, he dreaded the questioning doubt in her eyes when he knelt before her, soaked and stinking of her husband’s blood.

A suspicion he could not deny, for he was responsible for Gravin’s death. A life he had already tried to claim once before. So now he forced protesting muscles to obey and stood with his load, ignoring the flies that buzzed about his head and crawled over his gore-streaked fur, and resumed the long march under the relentless summer sun. The weight of memories and his brother’s body bowing his once-proud back. After all, Gravin wasn’t the first member of his family whose death lay at his feet.

This page is written very well. There’s a vivid voice, specific details that give us a sense of the world of the novel, an opening mystery, and the protagonist has a clear motivation. I’d definitely read on.

My main quibble is that this page is guilty of the dribbling out information foible that I blogged about a few weeks back. Markus is carrying a “dead body,” oh wait actually he knows the body and it’s called Gravin,” oh wait actually… they’re brothers. Huh? Why not just be clear from the start? Whose voice is calling it a “dead body,” which suggests anonymity?

I get it, you want the reader to wonder about who the body is for a little bit, but there’s already plenty of good mysteries packed into this page. We still want to know what happened between Markus and Gravin, and there’s good tension going into the scene with Kess because of that mystery, plus the added detail that Markus loves Kess. There’s already tension around whether Markus will get what he wants.

If we knew from the start that Markus is carrying his dead brother, that creates much better anticipation and suspense than having to rejigger our understanding of the scene with that in mind once we’re “allowed” to know that pretty crucial detail.

Trust in your story and err on the side of clarity.

Here’s my redline:

Title: Born to Battle

Markus staggered under the weight of the his brother Gravin’s dead body [if he already knows this “dead body,” why not just say that?], finally falling to one knee in exhaustion.

[I’d consider establishing the physical setting/surroundings here so the reader can better visualize the setting]

After two days [two days of what?], his Markus’s fur and armor were stiff with dried blood, its copper tang lingering in his nostrils. Around him, the rest of the band walked [walked where?] in respectful silence, not looking at him, having learned not to offer help to their captain. Two other dead bodies floated in mid-air beside them, the magical strain shared among the group [good detail that helps the reader begin to wrap their head around the way magic may work in this world], but Markus would let no other help him with Gravin, nor invoke the assistance of magic to lessen the load.

This burden belonged to him. The weight on his shoulders, the buzzing of the carrion flies, the [we’ve already got it with the weight and pick one invocation of flies between this one and the one two paragraphs later] aching and grinding weariness in his muscles, the pain of his severed tail—all of these only the start of the penance that lay on him much heavier than any corpse. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself to stand once more, trying not to think of the final confrontation that lay before him—the presentation of the body to Kess, Gravin’s wife.

Kess, the only love Markus had ever known over the centuries of his life. The pain on her face, the cries of their children would lay his grief and shame bare far worse than any whip flagellating his flesh. Worst of all, he dreaded the questioning doubt in her eyes when he knelt before her, soaked and stinking of her husband’s blood.

A suspicion he could not deny, for he was responsible for Gravin’s death. A life he had already tried to claim once before. So now he forced protesting muscles to obey and stood with his load, ignoring the flies that buzzed about his head and crawled over his gore-streaked fur, and resumed the long march under the relentless summer sun. The weight of memories and his brother’s body [Really strange to only now reveal that they’re brothers] bowing his once-proud back. After all, Gravin wasn’t the first member of his family whose death lay at his feet.

Thanks again to GaoYuQing!

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Art: Lone Wolf by Alfred Wierusz-Kowalski