This is the beginning of a novel I am working on. Please give me honest opinions. Is this something you would want to continue reading?
It was mid July and It had been an unusually hot Summer. Sweat beads formed on Lenore's brow and a line dripped between her breasts. She hated Summer. Oh, the flowers were nice and the greenery but when it was hot as Hades it was hellish for her. Most of her days were spent in the AC. Early morning and twilight were the times she ventured out to enjoy her small, walled garden.
It was sunset and finally cool enough to enjoy some time outdoors. Crickets sang and tree frogs were calling to their lady friends. The air was heavy with dissipating heat and collective scent of gardenia, peony and jasmine. Branches of a towering oak overhung the scene and on its trunk the tree face of an ancient warrior looked down on all who dared to enter there. Spanish moss hung from many of the surrounding trees but Lenore was glad that no Spanish moss adorned her oak's branches. Most people thought it was beautiful but she only wanted to clean it out of the trees. The eight foot, red brick wall was as old or older than the historic house she called home. Stained with years and moss it gave the garden an ambiance of by-gone days of the Antebellum South. On its ledge sat a stone sculpture of a fearsome dragon that she swore would smile at her each time she faced it. The four foot statue of St. Francis, surrounded with little, carved creatures, welcomed her, as he always did. The wrought iron, garden bench was not the most comfortable seat but she liked the feeling it gave her of living in an earlier, more genteel time.
She stretched her bare legs out and wiggled her toes in the cool dewy grass. Her legs were long and still shapely but vein highways had become more pronounced and silver threads entwined in the copper of her shoulder-length hair gave away the secret of her age which was still not fully revealed by her face.
Would I have made a good Southern Belle? She wondered and concluded that she didn't know. What she did know was she would never survive a deep south summer in a hoop skirt and pantaloons with no air conditioning to run to. She would never be able to endure so many of the traditional southern dishes like shrimp and grits and chicken bog.
The only thing good about Summer is when it ends, she mused as she opened her laptop and began to type.
She would work on her latest book until the orange light from the flickering gas lamp became too dim to see by.
Astra, her Standard Poodle, stepped close to her and nudged her head under Lenore's hand for a caress. Lenore closed the laptop and began to twine her fingers though Astra's curly, white topknot.
"Oh, Sweet Girl, Sweet, Sweet, Little Girl. I love you."
She thought about the times Astra was there for her when no one else was or could be. How she would climb up in Lenore's lap, filling it to capacity, lay her head on her shoulder and listen to every trial that was causing her mistress such pain. Yes, Astra was special and it was more important to take time to pet her than to work on the book.
Lenore laid the laptop down beside her on the bench and continued to pet Astra. Time slipped away unnoticed and soon the only light was dancing gaslight and moonlight. Mosquitoes were buzzing around her but Lenore never went outdoors without the bug repellent so they stayed a distance from her and Astra, who had also been sprayed to keep her comfortable. Lightning bugs were out in full force, tiny fairy lights flickering among the trees and shrubs. It was an enchanted kind of evening that made Lenore want to sleep outside.
Sitting there in a near state of euphoric trance her thoughts began to wander back, back across what seemed to be an endless trail of years, to other summer nights.......
Very nice detail! I could imagine the scene easily in my mind with the atmosphere evoked. The mention of July weather reminded me of this summer. Here by the lake (Smith Mountain Lake), the details could very well describe a scene here. But then the Spanish Moss. I love it. But none here. I do love the look, especially trailing from a live oak, at Brookgreen Gardens at Murrells Inlet, SC. Very well done!
Oh! This sounds great! I would continue reading it for sure!!
Love ya!
Jane
Reviewed by Ronald Hull
7/25/2018
Honestly, the opening was beautiful and so descriptive that hardly an element of the evening or the small courtyard was left out. It seemed almost obvious from the start that the narrator was the author and that this sketch was autobiographical. Also, very realistic for what it might've been like to live the life of a Southern Belle. Or even a traveling salesman in the South in the 1950s with a wool suit, Fedora, and black car with no AC. Simply hot sweaty and miserable. Road food with roaches.
When I wrote my first novel, about the life of the Iceman of the Alps, Otzi, what mattered to him, more than anything, were the seasons, so I capitalized them, Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. But later, I realized that for most of the time they don't require the formal names, so I don't capitalize them.
At the end, you indicate that the narrator is going to drift back in memory to an earlier time that I would think might be her 17th year. For many women (like my mother) it is a time of great change and anticipation.
I'm looking very much forward to reading more. So, if you post the entire book here while writing, and, if I'm able to read it chapter by chapter, I will most certainly give you a review wherever you have the novel for sale. I have no doubt based on all that I have read of your work that I will give you five stars and a superlative sendoff!
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