WARNING: SPOILERS
I love Tamora Pierce. In my opinion, she’s one of the best female authors and has created some of the best female characters in literature. They’re cunning, strong and well-developed. My favorite is Daine from The Immortals Quartet, but Pierce’s first female protagonist, Alanna, from the Song of the Lioness quartet is definitely one of the finest out there.
Unfortunately, I’m not reviewing Song of the Lioness today. I am, however, reviewing a book that was highly praised by Pierce and sounded like a Far Eastern version of Alanna’s story. This is the story of a girl who’s disguising herself as a boy (like Alanna) in order to become a nobleman because girls aren’t allowed (like Alanna), and she happens to have extraordinary magical powers (like Alanna). Along the way, she befriends the prince, uncovers a palace conspiracy, and must prove herself just as good as any man in a male-dominated society (like Alanna).
To expand: the story is about a crippled sixteen year old girl named Eona who lives under the male guise of twelve year old Eon (insert eyeroll here). She suddenly rockets in social standing when she’s chosen to be a Dragoneye, a high-ranking person who can communicate with a dragon and use its power. What’s more is that the dragon that chooses her has been missing for 500 years. (There are twelve dragons total, each representing an Eastern zodiac animal, a direction on the compass, and a moral value.)
However, the sudden return of the Dragon Dragon (or Mirror Dragon) disrupts the plans of the Rat Dragoneye, Lord Ido (the bad guy until the very end), and the general of the imperial military, the Emperor’s half-brother, High Lord Sethon (not the bad guy until the very end). Eon finds herself wrapped up in a multifaceted war for control over the country, and must find the courage to face her true self in order to fully unite with her dragon.
MAJOR PROBLEMS
If you’re going to write a 500 page story, make sure you have a 500 page plot
Eon is 531 pages long. However, if I was editor, I would have cut at least 200 pages before sending it to print. The story drags from beginning to end, with only a few respites here and there. It takes the first 100 pages to even get to the first major plot point (choosing the new Rat Dragoneye apprentice and the reappearance of the Mirror Dragon). One fifth of this book is dedicated to exposition, most of it happening in very static scenes: Eon walks home from training for about twenty pages. She exposits about the world around her and its many incredible sights, like the foreigner who sells cinnamon buns. She and her master sit around for a few more pages and go over more exposition. Then she sits around by herself for a few more pages until the morning of the apprentice ceremony arrives.
Why, yes, Ms. Goodman, I do understand that you’re setting up this complicated and well thought out world for me. I am actually quite impressed that you’ve put so much detail into your world and it would help it seem all the more real if you had balanced these details with plot.
As it stand, however, you could have had Eon get her dragon, stress about not having her dragon’s power, struggle with the intra-palace factions, and even have made the true politics sections interesting all in 300 pages.
Repeating yourself makes you sound redundant
Before we get to the first chapter of the story, there’s a prologue and several pages of visuals that explain the history of the dragons and the basic ins and outs of the Dragoneyes. Around page ten, Eona, our narrator, explains the history of the dragons and the ins and outs of the Dragoneyes.
Most of the time, writers don’t need prologues. A lot of them are either infodumps that drag down the narrative or unrelated scenes meant to hook in the reader with the start of a different, often more exciting story. Flavor text. That doesn’t mean all prologues are bad. What would Star Wars be without its iconic wall o’ texts before each movie? However, as I mentioned, Eon went through a lot of trouble to make sure the reader got all of the information she needed to understand the basics of Dragoneyes before the first chapter. Repeating it all was a wasted effort and only further stalled the reader.
Do you really have to ask so many questions?
Rhetorical questions can be a good way of getting to know a character. They can hint at the character’s goals and dreams or to the fact that their tragic flaw is inaction. Either way, the question is eventually answered through the character’s actions and the readers are more enriched.
Do you expect the same from this book? Am I the most caring and sensitive book reviewer?
Eon doesn’t just have rhetorical questions, it has Captain Obvious rhetorical questions. I’m talking about questions that the narrator throws at us that either have just been answered or are so obvious we begin to think her common sense was also run over by the cart that crippled her (or that she was so stupid in the first place, it ran away).
Eon asks if the fighting master might throw the match (he hates her). She asks if her Sun (male) energy had totally suppressed her Moon (female) energy (she’s drinking a tea that suppresses her Moon energy). She asks if the crowds see a girl or a eunuch (her master told everyone she was eunuch and they have no reason to not believe him).
Now, I understand that since the book is in the first-person POV, there will be some introspection, but this many rhetorical questions is the laziest attempt at characterization I’ve seen in a while. Again, they only pad out the book to its 500+ pages and they don’t do anything to further the narrative. Any reader trying to find deeper meaning in most of these questions is wasting his time.
If you advertise dragons as part of your story, by god, you’d better have dragons
The dragons show up at the beginning and at the end. That’s it. Well, okay, if you want to nitpick, they appear briefly throughout the book but only as spiritual projections. They don’t do anything except at the beginning and at the end.
And that’s just boring.
Dragons are some of the most interesting mythical creatures out there, and while you don’t have to make every story that features one revolve around their mythos, Eon should have tried harder. Actually, I’m making a rule right now that if “It” appears in the blurb and sounds like a big deal, “It” better be a big deal. Don’t tell me a girl is hiding out as a guy so she can control dragons when it’s actually a political story. You promised me dragons! I want dragons! Same goes for every other “It” out there.
All you blurb writers, listen up! Make sure you get a proper summary before you write the blurb. I know the goal is to make the book sound accessible to as many demographics as possible, but it’s best if you write for the audience that reads the genre the book is in (side note: Young Adult is not a genre).
All you authors, listen up, too! Make sure you give blurb writers a proper summary of your book! Don’t just tell them your idea, tell them your plot. Don’t just tell them your hook, tell them your plot. Don’t just tell them your conflict, tell them your plot.
The saddest part:
Alison Goodman is a great writer. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eon is a frustrating book that should be attempted by only the most patient of souls, but there are two scenes in it that stand out.
The first came early on, at about the 100 page mark. Goodman was writing Eon’s apprentice ceremony fight scene. And to my eternal delight, it was thrilling:
“It was a blink—a reflex as his outstretched blade swung above his head to twin the other in a wide arc.
The Goat Dragon.”
And that’s just the beginning of a tense, exciting fight scene that made me forgive the first 100 pages of the book. I was seriously ready to ignore the slow, annoying start—after all, it is a pretty complicated and detailed world that the author gave a lot of thought to, and it was just the beginning. Now that the exposition was out of the way….
Except, the wonderful writing lasted only for that scene before petering out and returning to more of the same.
The second beautiful scene made me wait until the end, so I was less receptive to it at first. (By the way, these were both the scenes with the dragons in them. Coincidence?) Eon is put in charge of using her dragon powers to move a typhoon. However, she can’t move it because she can’t access her powers. On top of that, she’s been taking steroids to try and strengthen her connection (not kidding), but it’s only been weakening it. She calls to Lord Ido’s dragon, but he catches her and takes over her body. This ensues:
“I raged in silence as he used my body and voice to direct the Dragoneyes. I felt his fierce joy as his power joined with mine, draining me. I watched, helpless and in awe, as the huge circle of beasts slowly contained the energy of the storm and moved it over the dam.”
That is the sort of writing you show off to people. That is the sort of writing you include in excerpts to hook people in. The downside? It’s at the end of the book. It’s one of the final plot twists, so she can’t show it to potential book buyers without saying, “I have to give you the context for this passage, but I can’t because then I’ll be spoiling everything, but then you won’t understand anything.” Since you all obviously don’t care about that sort of thing, you can understand my argument better.
Anyway, that second scene is wonderful. Even when I reread it to transcribe it, I got goosebumps and felt the need to take a long shower. So, if you ever stumble upon this column, Ms. Goodman, could you please write like this all the time? I know it’s kind of a disturbing request, “Please write rape-y toned scenes forever” but you’re wonderful at it!
In conclusion:
If you liked Tamora Pierce’s Song of the Lioness quartet, you might just like Eon: Dragoneye Reborn and its sequel, Eona: The Last Dragoneye. I still favor Pierce because I think she managed to create strong characters and interesting worlds while still keeping her stories fresh and exciting. And as long as they needed to be, no longer. Goodman, not so much.
It’s apparent that she was more excited about the mythology behind her world than the people populating it, and that wouldn’t be terrible if the book was shorter or if the plot was different. The pacing is really the biggest factor here, since this book is a huge time commitment for a reader, and, in my opinion, might make people regret their purchase of a brick when the first fifth consists of nothing but an infodump.
If you’re going to write a 500 page story, make sure you have a 500 page plot
Eon is 531 pages long. However, if I was editor, I would have cut at least 200 pages before sending it to print. The story drags from beginning to end, with only a few respites here and there. It takes the first 100 pages to even get to the first major plot point (choosing the new Rat Dragoneye apprentice and the reappearance of the Mirror Dragon). One fifth of this book is dedicated to exposition, most of it happening in very static scenes: Eon walks home from training for about twenty pages. She exposits about the world around her and its many incredible sights, like the foreigner who sells cinnamon buns. She and her master sit around for a few more pages and go over more exposition. Then she sits around by herself for a few more pages until the morning of the apprentice ceremony arrives.
Why, yes, Ms. Goodman, I do understand that you’re setting up this complicated and well thought out world for me. I am actually quite impressed that you’ve put so much detail into your world and it would help it seem all the more real if you had balanced these details with plot.
As it stand, however, you could have had Eon get her dragon, stress about not having her dragon’s power, struggle with the intra-palace factions, and even have made the true politics sections interesting all in 300 pages.
Repeating yourself makes you sound redundant
Before we get to the first chapter of the story, there’s a prologue and several pages of visuals that explain the history of the dragons and the basic ins and outs of the Dragoneyes. Around page ten, Eona, our narrator, explains the history of the dragons and the ins and outs of the Dragoneyes.
Most of the time, writers don’t need prologues. A lot of them are either infodumps that drag down the narrative or unrelated scenes meant to hook in the reader with the start of a different, often more exciting story. Flavor text. That doesn’t mean all prologues are bad. What would Star Wars be without its iconic wall o’ texts before each movie? However, as I mentioned, Eon went through a lot of trouble to make sure the reader got all of the information she needed to understand the basics of Dragoneyes before the first chapter. Repeating it all was a wasted effort and only further stalled the reader.
Do you really have to ask so many questions?
Rhetorical questions can be a good way of getting to know a character. They can hint at the character’s goals and dreams or to the fact that their tragic flaw is inaction. Either way, the question is eventually answered through the character’s actions and the readers are more enriched.
Do you expect the same from this book? Am I the most caring and sensitive book reviewer?
Eon doesn’t just have rhetorical questions, it has Captain Obvious rhetorical questions. I’m talking about questions that the narrator throws at us that either have just been answered or are so obvious we begin to think her common sense was also run over by the cart that crippled her (or that she was so stupid in the first place, it ran away).
Eon asks if the fighting master might throw the match (he hates her). She asks if her Sun (male) energy had totally suppressed her Moon (female) energy (she’s drinking a tea that suppresses her Moon energy). She asks if the crowds see a girl or a eunuch (her master told everyone she was eunuch and they have no reason to not believe him).
Now, I understand that since the book is in the first-person POV, there will be some introspection, but this many rhetorical questions is the laziest attempt at characterization I’ve seen in a while. Again, they only pad out the book to its 500+ pages and they don’t do anything to further the narrative. Any reader trying to find deeper meaning in most of these questions is wasting his time.
If you advertise dragons as part of your story, by god, you’d better have dragons
The dragons show up at the beginning and at the end. That’s it. Well, okay, if you want to nitpick, they appear briefly throughout the book but only as spiritual projections. They don’t do anything except at the beginning and at the end.
And that’s just boring.
Dragons are some of the most interesting mythical creatures out there, and while you don’t have to make every story that features one revolve around their mythos, Eon should have tried harder. Actually, I’m making a rule right now that if “It” appears in the blurb and sounds like a big deal, “It” better be a big deal. Don’t tell me a girl is hiding out as a guy so she can control dragons when it’s actually a political story. You promised me dragons! I want dragons! Same goes for every other “It” out there.
All you blurb writers, listen up! Make sure you get a proper summary before you write the blurb. I know the goal is to make the book sound accessible to as many demographics as possible, but it’s best if you write for the audience that reads the genre the book is in (side note: Young Adult is not a genre).
All you authors, listen up, too! Make sure you give blurb writers a proper summary of your book! Don’t just tell them your idea, tell them your plot. Don’t just tell them your hook, tell them your plot. Don’t just tell them your conflict, tell them your plot.
The saddest part:
Alison Goodman is a great writer. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eon is a frustrating book that should be attempted by only the most patient of souls, but there are two scenes in it that stand out.
The first came early on, at about the 100 page mark. Goodman was writing Eon’s apprentice ceremony fight scene. And to my eternal delight, it was thrilling:
“It was a blink—a reflex as his outstretched blade swung above his head to twin the other in a wide arc.
The Goat Dragon.”
And that’s just the beginning of a tense, exciting fight scene that made me forgive the first 100 pages of the book. I was seriously ready to ignore the slow, annoying start—after all, it is a pretty complicated and detailed world that the author gave a lot of thought to, and it was just the beginning. Now that the exposition was out of the way….
Except, the wonderful writing lasted only for that scene before petering out and returning to more of the same.
The second beautiful scene made me wait until the end, so I was less receptive to it at first. (By the way, these were both the scenes with the dragons in them. Coincidence?) Eon is put in charge of using her dragon powers to move a typhoon. However, she can’t move it because she can’t access her powers. On top of that, she’s been taking steroids to try and strengthen her connection (not kidding), but it’s only been weakening it. She calls to Lord Ido’s dragon, but he catches her and takes over her body. This ensues:
“I raged in silence as he used my body and voice to direct the Dragoneyes. I felt his fierce joy as his power joined with mine, draining me. I watched, helpless and in awe, as the huge circle of beasts slowly contained the energy of the storm and moved it over the dam.”
That is the sort of writing you show off to people. That is the sort of writing you include in excerpts to hook people in. The downside? It’s at the end of the book. It’s one of the final plot twists, so she can’t show it to potential book buyers without saying, “I have to give you the context for this passage, but I can’t because then I’ll be spoiling everything, but then you won’t understand anything.” Since you all obviously don’t care about that sort of thing, you can understand my argument better.
Anyway, that second scene is wonderful. Even when I reread it to transcribe it, I got goosebumps and felt the need to take a long shower. So, if you ever stumble upon this column, Ms. Goodman, could you please write like this all the time? I know it’s kind of a disturbing request, “Please write rape-y toned scenes forever” but you’re wonderful at it!
In conclusion:
If you liked Tamora Pierce’s Song of the Lioness quartet, you might just like Eon: Dragoneye Reborn and its sequel, Eona: The Last Dragoneye. I still favor Pierce because I think she managed to create strong characters and interesting worlds while still keeping her stories fresh and exciting. And as long as they needed to be, no longer. Goodman, not so much.
It’s apparent that she was more excited about the mythology behind her world than the people populating it, and that wouldn’t be terrible if the book was shorter or if the plot was different. The pacing is really the biggest factor here, since this book is a huge time commitment for a reader, and, in my opinion, might make people regret their purchase of a brick when the first fifth consists of nothing but an infodump.
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