Point 1.1

My novel is not divided into standard chapters, each instead is called, an angle. This is the first angle of the novel. As the novel progresses (or makes a revolution), each section becomes larger.

 

   I must have woken up because I must have been sleeping because before this, I remember nothing. Not this beeping noise. Not the window, that's hardly a window since it seems to be sealed closed and its one of those where the blinds are built in between the panes and the lever is broken off and missing so that they're stuck turned between one way and another: angled so that they'll never be closed enough for you to feel privacy or aloneness and never opened enough to see out clearly the rooftop covered in soggy masses of leaves"too much to be just the annual amputations from the surrounding trees, piles that started many autumns past"and the field below that stretches to the horizon, split by a single untraveled looking one-lane road or a starless polluted sky at night that fills you with the certainty of isolation like a map saying "you are here" and showing nothing at all in the vicinity and so you search the directory for where you are trying to go and find the listing without category or alphabetization, but with frequent omissions, in fact the only things still listed are the things no longer there"your dead relatives, your first love, the home you grew up in that years later was painted a different color and your bedroom converted by a single man into a study and then later the foundation was so severely compromised by termites that the whole place had to come down.
   And I do not remember the chair, with a pillow looking used by someone but now unoccupied, the sham half off revealing the cotton filled and flat cushion stained yellow with sweat and saliva. I do not remember the painting on the wall of a forest I do not remember that probably doesn't exist and at the same time does"that same collection of trees and in that precise formation, somewhere in every forest, nothing remarkable about it. I do not remember what the words in caption below the forest say and I cannot read it from this bed that I do not remember and that I cannot move from and, in fact, I do not remember how to move from or my arms do not remember so when my mind is telling them "bend" they don't reciprocate cooperation and my legs are cold, and the beeping sound, I hear you again, and I don't remember you any better than the first time.
   I do not remember this mirror sitting on this table that I do not remember that hangs over my lap. I would pick up the mirror if I remembered how, but I do remember how to crane my neck somewhat so that I can see in it the ceiling and beyond the ceiling, that is below it and behind me, I see the audience. I do remember the audience. Not each of their faces, but I remember this thing that they make up, this composite, always an audience no matter how many leave to the bathroom or are replaced by others on other nights"just like red blood cells"dying and being replaced by others and your blood still looking the same, their passing unnoticed. I cannot see their faces from here, but they are all watching patiently because I do not hear coughing or murmurs or the forced swallowing of spit which happens automatically and quietly except when you would like to not make a sound at all, even breathing, and all I can hear is silence and beeping again.

Author's Note

So, this is the very first angle (the name for chapters in my novel), it is very small and uninformative because it is only as the novel progresses, that each angle becomes longer and starts connecting to the others. I am going to figure out how to correct before I post again. (Back to what I was saying) There are 4 main 'books' within my novel, each connecting to each other in more intricate ways as the story develops. It is story on a grander scale, since the book will end up taking me somewhere between 300,000 to 500,000 words easily. I have already written about 1/40 of the novel and will post pieces periodically. I am mainly posting to have you review my writing style and here everyone's thoughts.

I am just starting, so I will also be looking into other groups to discuss literary theory. My novel is an intimate work, with many characters and a very forward moving plot, but a lot of it is designed to be just as, if not more, enjoyable from the perspective of someone interested in literary theory or philosophy. It i written in a cross between logical poeticism and hysterical realism. The narrative is sometimes in third person, sometimes first, sometimes near omniscient, and it flows in and out of these, sometimes mid-sentence. My novel is meant to consider how objective an author and reader can really be and this is portrayed by the reflective, refracting, and possessing narrative voice throughout. Not much can be observed in this very first section, I just figured I'd get started by posting it on here.

Thanks for any advice.

PS: Em-dashes were appearing as quotation marks with no spaces between, but I believe I corrected them. If not, and you see that oddity, there's the explanation.

Reviews

[AarsalM]

Interesting, I'm going to assume that the rushed fast feel on the first chapter was done on purpose, and as weird as the entire thing seems, it still ends up painting a very nice picture within a pretty interesting medium. I'm going to assume this is something akin to a hospital room.

Overall definitely grabbing, but yet at the same time that first chapter can throw off some readers if they don't quite grasp the entire concept. Pretty nice job though, for so little amount of writing.

[KayD]

It is like a flow of thoughts rather than individual sentences. Interesting but I found the sentences very long. Perhaps that's what you intended but I think it would read more vividly if they were more concise. I like the idea of your 'angles' and I think it is 'informative' in that it introduces someone whose thoughts are uncontained and rambling so the reader feels something has happened and wants to find out what it is.