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fudgez

An experiment in Style

My dear and much beloved if little anticipated reader. I grant you the appropriate greeting of your circumstance, be it a mere “Good Afternoon” or an exuberant, joyous “Merry Christmas” no matter the day or time I do hope you shall stay with me a while. Or that if you simply must leave you shall return.

As I pen these few paragraphs, outside the trees are shedding their green coating as has been tradition around this time of year for many millennia now. Another if less time honoured tradition of this season is the nature of my mind to wander, to meander gently back in time to when the extent of my interest on the changing of the seasons was to watch with lustful anticipation the horse chestnuts ripen high in Norton Heath’s canopy.

When transported in this way to these “old days” one character again and again comes to mind in fact so persistent is this chap , or this memory of a chap, that Pretty much every encounter he and I shared is imprinted, almost branded into my mind even now.

You will understand dear reader that I do not wish to tell you exactly how long ago these events took place. Not out of some politeness or embarrassment for my age. No, the reason I do not want to tell you the exact position in the timeline of human history these events took place is because, as I am sure many of you shall agree, there are places in this country, in this world for that matter that exist not only in a place and a time but also lie, to one or two degrees, north or south, of the line of normality. I’m sure you will have read, seen or even visited the hills which with a stern look of defiance allow cars to roll upwards, or the circular rings of dense forestation lying in the middle of developed housing estates where great rusted diggers lie entrenched and entwined in the twirling hawthorn bushes and no one dare walk through at night for fear of the fairy folk. Suffice to say if I were to put a calendar date on this tale I would end up arguing with a historian and a historian is a dreadfully boring creature.

Over the years I am more sure then anyone that my tale has become skewed and somewhat embellished by the passage of time but I assure you faithful reader that I shall depict the story to the best of my knowledge without hyperbole or any other underhanded tricks of the pen. At times you will question my honesty and more often than not I am sure some disbelief shall enter your mind. I can only hope that you will remain faithful and allow yourself to stray a little from the normality you have come to know in these much diluted times of science.

So with those formalities behind us I shall begin with the task of describing the town of Norton to you.

davyjose

I understand it's an experiment in style, but for such archaic prose, it's sparsely punctuated. I'm not sure this works.

I wouldn't be a fan of that style of writing myself though.

stevejazzx

fudgez wrote: »

An experiment in Style

My dear and much beloved if little anticipated reader. I grant you the appropriate greeting of your circumstance, be it a mere “Good Afternoon” or an exuberant, joyous “Merry Christmas” no matter the day or time I do hope you shall stay with me a while. Or that if you simply must leave you shall return.

As I pen these few paragraphs, outside the trees are shedding their green coating as has been tradition around this time of year for many millennia now. Another if less time honoured tradition of this season is the nature of my mind to wander, to meander gently back in time to when the extent of my interest on the changing of the seasons was to watch with lustful anticipation the horse chestnuts ripen high in Norton Heath’s canopy.

When transported in this way to these “old days” one character again and again comes to mind in fact so persistent is this chap , or this memory of a chap, that Pretty much every encounter he and I shared is imprinted, almost branded into my mind even now.

You will understand dear reader that I do not wish to tell you exactly how long ago these events took place. Not out of some politeness or embarrassment for my age. No, the reason I do not want to tell you the exact position in the timeline of human history these events took place is because, as I am sure many of you shall agree, there are places in this country, in this world for that matter that exist not only in a place and a time but also lie, to one or two degrees, north or south, of the line of normality. I’m sure you will have read, seen or even visited the hills which with a stern look of defiance allow cars to roll upwards, or the circular rings of dense forestation lying in the middle of developed housing estates where great rusted diggers lie entrenched and entwined in the twirling hawthorn bushes and no one dare walk through at night for fear of the fairy folk. Suffice to say if I were to put a calendar date on this tale I would end up arguing with a historian and a historian is a dreadfully boring creature.

Over the years I am more sure then anyone that my tale has become skewed and somewhat embellished by the passage of time but I assure you faithful reader that I shall depict the story to the best of my knowledge without hyperbole or any other underhanded tricks of the pen. At times you will question my honesty and more often than not I am sure some disbelief shall enter your mind. I can only hope that you will remain faithful and allow yourself to stray a little from the normality you have come to know in these much diluted times of science.

So with those formalities behind us I shall begin with the task of describing the town of Norton to you.

Too elongated and sparse an introduction. Gets near to being dull.
'For fear of the fairy folk' sounds, to my ear, Spinal Tapian.:)
However I do knid of like the mystery you're trying to inject.
For this kind of thing to work you really have to be a master of the imagination. I mean Tolkien devised maps, worlds and even whole languages for his creations so you've got some work to do yet.

EileenG

It's a hard style to do well, because it immediately sounds old-fashioned and dated, so your story will have to have an extremely unusual angle to hook the reader.