Young Adult / The Two-Sided Metmorphosis of Marcus Lucretius (Analysis)
Have you ever heard that one or two songs that make your heart beat faster when it gets to a certain part? That punctuates and defines your life better than any dictionary could ever dream of doing? That seems like the rhythm of the guitar is comfortingly strumming your cheek, and the rhythm of the drums softly giving you a pat on the back? Everybody has that one song. For Marcus Lucretius, that song is “Like a Rolling Stone”, by a Mr. Robert Zimmerman, But you may know him better as Bob Dylan. That part of the song that makes his heart beat faster is:
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
Sadly, Marcus knows the feeling all to well. For rather than being a black sheep in school, he is more of a black hole, sucking in unpopularity like a football player would popularity. If the world was an obscenely large billboard hanging off the side of the George Washington bridge, and each person was a twenty-four by thirty-six section of that billboard, then Marcus is a poster floating gracefully down the Hudson. Even the kids that belong in the other/miscellaneous/not listed category have dismissed him as a freak.
It certainly doesn’t help that his name makes him sound like he could have luncheoned with Julius Caesar that very afternoon. While, as I hope you know, the suffix -tius is pronounced shiss, but when a particularly stupid substitute teacher pops into the classroom, they pronounce his last name Lu-cree-tee-us. And for Marcus, that sounds far to close to Cletus, and unless you are in an even more advanced state of ignorance, then you realize that Cletus sounds like he can count his teeth upon one hand.
Another factor that adds to his unpopularity is the fact his normal speech is the kind of language you would add to an essay you wrote the day before it’s due to make it sound like you put a considerable amount of effort into it. As you may have gathered from the previous sentence, Marcus is a teacher’s darling. But in the eyes of his classmates, he’s just another weird teacher’s pet.
Now you can see why Like a Rolling Stone is so important in his life.
Our story begins with a bright, sunshiny spring day, when the songs of birds leaves a spring in your step and the sunshine on your face wraps a DNA helix around your heart and lifts it to the bright blue skies of happiness. For Marcus, it was simply another day, simply another stroke of black paint in the painting that was his life. But at this point, he never could have known that fate was going to pour so much orange and yellow in the palette of black that he would never see a dark shade for quite some time.
When Marcus got home that luminous day from school, he found his mother, Ophelia, sitting in the dining room, having tea with one of her local gossip dolls, Theda Metalious. Marcus personally thinks that Theda is a snooty, rather unpleasant little bitch with little access to intelligence to lots of access to cash. And frankly, she is. She plays the part a little bit too well; realizing she acts heavily isn’t as complex as solving a Rubik’s cube. In fact, realizing this is about as simple as completing a six-piece puzzle. As Marcus closes the door, he hears is mother’s distinctive “I’m-with-people-right-now-do-whatever-the-fuck-I-say” cry come from the dining room. Shuddering, Marcus prepares himself to be humiliated about the truth he runs from so often-he hates the world, and it hates him right back.
As he walked into the dining room, he heard his mother speaking in a hushed tone.
“No, no, Theda, not in front of the boy…”
“Oh joy, “the” boy? I’m an object now? Would you like to pull the levers and twist the knobs, see if I still work right?” Marcus retorted. One of the advantages of antisocial activity is that it gives you a lot of time to think of comebacks.
“Don’t be bitter. Anyway, Theda here was just telling me-”
“What a surprise, Theda telling you something. Go on.”
Ophelia, realizing that Marcus was humiliating her, decided to put on her bitch claws. “Theda here was just telling me that you seem to be rather unsocial in school. How come?”
“I hate the world and it hates me, it’s really rather simple.”
“Oh, Marcus, that’s not true in the slightest, you have friends!”
“Name one. Name a single person that you have seen me even appear to be friendly with.”
“Ooh, how about that girl that was banging down our door two weeks ago! She really wanted to see you, boy!”
“Two weeks ago, I slipped and whacked my head against a door in school. She laughed her bimbo ass off. So, when she wasn’t looking, I stole her purse to spite her. Someone saw me take it, and they told her. Hence, her banging down our door.”
It is Theda that now decides to slip on her nifty little claws. “You stole her purse? My god, of all the things you could’ve stolen! Her money, her virginity-”
“Theda, please!” Ophelia hisses out of the corner of her mouth.
“Why would I want to waste my energy hunting down and fucking some uninteresting, dumb girl?”
“Sex is sex. That’s it, really,” Theda says simply.
If this conversation had been some demented concoction that someone decided to cook, then at this moment they would have taken Sarcasm out of the spice rack and sprinkled a little in there.
“Thank you for that amazing little introspective, Theda, it really shows your true colors. Now, I need to get back up to my room to blast depressing rock songs as I slit my wrists, is there anything I can help you with?”
“My nephew, Mischa, is coming to live with me. You’re what, fifteen?”
“Yes.”
“How darling! So is he! Oh, I think you’ll like him, he’s really very strange.”
Ophelia gives Marcus one of those that-sounds-like-fun! looks, tilting her head as she raises her eyebrows and curls her lower lip forward. Marcus just gives them a dead sort of look, not expecting much to come of this new kid in his life. This mindset is so incorrect that it almost enters a new dimension of incorrect, whatever that should be.
The first time Marcus met “that new child”, as he called Mischa (Marcus calls all of his peers children or child, as if he were somehow older than them), was the day after that lovely confrontation in the dining room. And it wasn’t by his own default that he met Mischa, either; rather, by his mother’s insistence that they be kind to Theda. Despite the fact Theda has the kindness and sensitivity of a wild cougar that just sailed around the world in a cramped cage with no food.
Mischa pulled up in a taxi, alone. Theda, Marcus and Ophelia were his greeting party. Theda gave him a muah-muah-muah three kisses on the cheek, then ordered Marcus to help Mischa with his luggage, which was three suitcases. Not wanting to argue so soon in the day, Marcus grabbed two of the bags and humped them up the stairs, taking the lead from Mischa as to their destination. Once they are both upstairs, Marcus is able to get a good look at this new person in his life.
Mischa does not, by any means, look as strange as Theda describes him. He is quite tall, very thin, and has a face not too dark or too chalk-white, and has short brown hair. His clothes don’t signify any strangeness, either; they’re all from Hollister. Instead of the typical response Marcus got from people that looked and dressed like Mischa-a titter or a cold shoulder-Mischa gave Marcus a big smile, which revealed sparklingly white teeth.
“Hey, I’m Mischa,” Mischa said, obviously trying hard to please Marcus.
“I’m Marcus,” Marcus responded, bored.
“Please, your excitement is overwhelming.”
Marcus gives Mischa a shocked look. Finally, there is somebody out there who uses his brand of sarcasm in regular conversation! He’s liking Mischa more and more by the second.
“I’m sorry. It’s just my way of talk.”
“No, no. I love it!”
Mischa’s expression of shock surpasses Marcus’. Now the smile that was only on his face has branched out and planted itself on Marcus’ face as well. This little moment of rare happiness is only broken by Theda’s screaming for the pair of them.
“Darlings! We’re going out to lunch, you’re coming with us.”
So they all get into Theda’s Mercedes-Benz and drive off to some fancy restaurant. Twenty minutes later, they are at, you guessed it, the most expensive place in town, sitting at the best tables with the best view. Ophelia and Theda got their own table, obviously so they could attempt to drain their bottomless well of gossip, while Mischa and Marcus sat by themselves close by.
It became quickly evident to Marcus that Mischa was not some typical teenager, one of the shallow, boring kids that seem to be infesting the world at an alarming rate. He not only could claim to have seen this movie or read that book, but could name the director and cast, or author. And so the two sit, ignorant to the world around them, caught up in the discovery of each other as they have a lunch of fries, chicken, cinema, and literature.
Back home, or what at one point in time was his home, Mischa was always quite the popular kid, although the term “popular” in modern context is completely fake; nowadays there is a group of kids who think like four year olds except when it comes to the opposite (or same?) sex, liquor, cigarettes, friends, and occasionally, drugs who call themselves “popular”. Mischa fell into this group by default. If he could have his choice, his friends would be a mixture of the unnaturally intelligent kids and the kids in the other/not listed/miscellaneous group. For, as he found out all too quickly, the popular kids only talked about a very limited range of things, which included but was limited to: pot, liquor, acquiring cigarettes, how much of a fucktard bitch so and so is because they didn’t hang out with so and so, and the supposed problems of their lives-which tend to be nonexistent. Considering Marcus surpasses even the other/not listed/miscellaneous category, you can imagine Mischa’s joy.
And Marcus! Dear Marcus, look at him now! It is very evident that the yellows and oranges are seeping into the canister of black that he paints his life with. He played it off like it was no big deal, meeting Mischa and all, but on the inside he was doing one of those awkwardly cramped victory dances, his face contorted in happiness as he jumps strangely up and down.
When the four of them finished their lunch and went back to Theda’s place, Marcus and Mischa stuck together and continued talking. And from that moment on, they were inseparable.
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I like how this began. I think the question and comparison to everyone having a song that drives them is a good opening to the story. However, I think there’s a bit too much description about Marcus in the opening paragraphs. It really isn’t necessary.
This sentence is a bit awkward, “While, as I hope you know, the suffix -tius is pronounced shiss, but when a particularly stupid substitute teacher pops into the classroom, they pronounce his last name Lu-cree-tee-us.” You could try, “The his name was pronounced, Lu-cree-shiss, but try telling the subsitute teacher that. ’Lu-cree-tee-us’ always had a way of making him feel like he could count the number of teeth he had on one hand…” or something to that effect.
I think the description of “bitch claws” and “nifty claws” feels awkward. You could describe the conversation without that terminology. It doesn’t really fit with the rest of the narrative. However, I think you have flair for using metaphors and similes, beautifully.
“(Marcus calls all of his peers children or child, as if he were somehow older than them)”, again, not really relevant to the narrative. The previous explanation is strong enough without having to state this.
You take a lot of liberties that the audience knows what you’re talking about or what the characters are about to do, while the text doesn’t offer them any defining character traits. I think I understand why you did it, to make them seem more real or like the type of people that everyone knows, but you don’t support their previous actions enough to make those assumptions.
I got a little lost toward the end you jumped from the future back to the present. Mischa is a popular kid, so does that make Marcus popular by default?
Overall, I think it’s a nice start, but it breaks down a little at the end. iT stars about about one character and ends up talking about the second, never giving you a full spectrum on either of their growth. I’d be interested to see what else happens between the two and get more of a feel of what happens to Marcus as a result of his friendship with Mischa.
Good job.
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Ok- first a couple of general editing notes-
“Our story begins with a bright, sunshiny spring day, when the songs of birds leaves a spring in your step and the sunshine on your face wraps a DNA helix around your heart and lifts it to the bright blue skies of happiness.”
-I would change, “songs of birds,” to just birdsong. I seems to help the flow of the scentance better without losing the poetic beauty of it. I’d change “shunshine” to sun to break up the monotony here as well. I would also change “lifts” to, ”... , lifting…” and punctuate it, as it does run a bit long. some thing like this-
“Our story begins with a bright, sunshiny spring day, when birdsong leaves a spring in your step, and the sun on your face wraps a DNA helix around your heart, lifting it to the bright blue skies of happiness.”
“She plays the part a little bit too well; realizing she acts heavily isn’t as complex as solving a Rubik’s cube.”
-Here just change the apostrophe to a comma and. It’ll help clear up the scentance and make it easier to read. Like this-
“She plays the part a little bit too well, and realizing she acts heavily isn’t as complex as solving a Rubik’s Cube.
“And it wasn’t by his own default that he met Mischa, either; rather, by his mother’s insistence that they be kind to Theda. Despite the fact Theda has the kindness and sensitivity of a wild cougar that just sailed around the world in a cramped cage with no food.”
-First off this should all be one scentance, a lon one, yes, but the second scentance here is not whole. Second, I’d use the choice rather than default to keep the meaning clear. Such as-
“And is wasn’t by his own choice that he met Mischa either; rather, by his mother’s insistence that they be kind to Theda- despite the fact that Theda had the kindness and sensitivity of a wild cougar that had just sailed around the world in a cramped cage without food.”
For, as he found out all too quickly, the popular kids only talked about a very limited range of things, which included but was limited to: pot, liquor, acquiring cigarettes, how much of a fucktard bitch so and so is because they didn’t hang out with so and so, and the supposed problems of their lives-which tend to be nonexistent.
- Just either change but to and, or add a not behind it here.
Now, continuing on, this is one of my favorite lines in the story-
“If this conversation had been some demented concoction that someone decided to cook, then at this moment they would have taken Sarcasm out of the spice rack and sprinkled a little in there.”
This is a lovely piece and one I’d like to read more of. All in all you have lovely grasp of language to express color and feeling. Definately keep developing it!
The repetition of the word that in the first sentence really detracts the reader and makes it difficult to read. Then the second sentence starts and reads as though it belongs to the first, which it does but cannot because there is a question mark in the way.
Its tough but you have perhaps 60 seconds to capture your reader’s interest and that means the first paragraph really needs to be absolutely perfect. The sentiment is fine and will grab your reader, just as long as you let the words do the grabbing.
Be careful when using other people’s material, i.e. lyrics from a song. The words and the copyright belongs to someone who might take exception and send some lawyers round to explain, painfully expensively, just how upset the writer is that you didn’t ask for permission to reproduce them without his/her permission.
That to one side you don’t need the repeated first line as just about the whole world knows the lyrics to the song so perhaps even just a passing reference to the title would suffice.
Our story begins with a bright, – you started the story with the first word, not here.
rather unpleasant little bitch with little access to intelligence to lots of access to cash. And frankly, she is. – this sentence does not make sense.
the spice rack and sprinkled a little in there. – very nice touch but may be lost on the prospective audience.
Mischa pulled up in a taxi, alone. – you’ve moved the action along very well here. What’s more the names sound sufficiently different not to be confusing.
drain their bottomless well of gossip – very good line
He not only could – Not only could he
You have painted the world of geeky, middle-class kids very nicely. The text does need some work and I would suggest that you put the manuscript to one side for a couple of weeks. It is a strange thing but a manuscript left in the dark on its own will shuffle you words round and when you read it again it will be completely different.
It is a good start, stick with it, give the words a chance to breath and don’t try and force the work. It will take as long as it takes, and the more you try to hurry it the longer it will take.
You are a very talented writer! You have some very muscular sentences here, and although I didn’t agree with all of your choices of imagery (some of them struck me as forced or self-indulgent), you clearly have a knack for metaphorical language that I think will pay off later.
Your pacing seemed a bit haphazard in this piece--some plot points that shouldn’t move quickly (like the decision to meet Mischa, for instance) had a rushed and somewhat underwritten quality. It would be nice to see you take this story at a more leisurely pace--it looks like a story of 3000 words or more.
Thanks for letting me read it—you are quite a writer!
Some of the analogies are nice, but most of them are fairly unbelievable; as a reader, I cannot connect with the main character because he seems to be a ‘oh, woe is me’ kind of character – it’s a stretch to say that even every single person who is excluded also excludes your main character. His dialog, his mannerisms, and the way the characters and setting and tailored to make the reader pity him, are all completely overdone. The style you use is informal in places, a little too much like preteend dialog in others, and jumps tenses throughout. I would suggest that you seriously consider what kind of story you’re trying to write, and maybe pick a theme that isn’t “social outcast vs world” – that is boring, and overworked, and almost always presented in a completely unoriginal fashion.
So amazing to write as you do.
This Is Pretty Well Done. It Takes Awhile Before The Story Really Goes Anywhere Though. And I Love The Way You Used The Words “Bitch Claws.” That Is Hilarious. I’m Going To Start Using That Phrase Now To Describe My Friends When They Are Angry. But I Like How Marcus Is A Smart Talking, Rude Kid. He Reminds Me Of My Rebellious Teenage Days (That I’m Still In). Of Course I’m Not That Bad. I Do Think The Beginning Of The Story Referring To The Song And What Not, Was A Bit Too Long. I Didn’t Really Understand It And It Gave Me A Sense Of Dissinterest. Try Spicing It Up A Bit. You Have Talent, I Can See, So It Should Be Easy For You.
this seems more like it would be for younger teens, since your main character is fifteen. but you can be the official judge of that.
i laughed in several places in this story!! one of them was the part abt the girl banging down the door. don’t ask why i laughed. i just found it funny. i liked the humor you inserted here. very nicely done.
i’m interested in reading more of this story. i want to see what happens with these boys. they seem like very cool characters. way to go!!!
I love love love LOVE this.
I hope you write more very soon, and please don’t hesitate to request me to read any of your writing again!
I think this is written very well and character interaction is great. Maybe try to be a bit more descriptive of surroundings, but not overly so. All in all, two thumbs up!
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