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'So now get up.'

Felled, dazed, silent, he has fallen; knocked full length on the cobbles of the yard. His head turns sideways; his eyes are turned towards the gate, as if someone might arrive to help him out. One blow, properly placed, could kill him now.

Blood from the gash on his head — which was his father's first effort — is trickling across his face. Add to this, his left eye is blinded; but if he squints sideways, with his right eye he can see that the stitching of his father's boot is unravelling. The twine has sprung clear of the leather, and a hard knot in it has caught his eyebrow and opened another cut.

`So now get up,' Walter is roaring down at him, working out where to kick him next. He lifts his head an inch or two, and moves forward, on his belly, trying to do it without exposing his hands, on which Walter enjoys stamping. `What are you, an eel? his parent asks. He trots backwards, gathers pace, and aims another kick.

It knocks the last breath out of him; he thinks it may be his last. His forehead returns to the ground; he lies waiting, for Walter to jump on him. The dog, Bella, is barking, shut away in an outhouse. I'll miss my dog, he thinks. The yard smells of beer and blood. Someone is shouting, down on the riverbank.

The opening to 'Wolf Hall' by Hilary Mantel.

This is my read of the moment. I was struck by the initial passages. They open the story with a crash and engaged me instantly. The young Thomas Cromwell is beaten by his father. The scene is vivid yet almost devoid of description; how does she do that?

He ran as he’d never run before, with neither hope nor despair. He ran because the world was divided into opposites and his side had already been chosen for him, his only choice being whether or not to play his part with heart and courage. He ran because fate had placed him in a position of responsibility and he had accepted the burden. He ran because his self-respect required it. He ran because he loved his friends and this was the only thing he could do to end the madness that was killing and maiming them. He ran directly at the bunker where the grenades from Jake’s M-79 were exploding. The bullets from the M-60 machine gun slammed through the air on his right, slashing past him, whining like tortured cats, cracking like the bullwhip of death. He ran, having never felt so alone and frightened in his life.

'Matterhorn' by Karl Marlantes

I really like this scene from my current read 'Matterhorn'. I like the inclusion of the soldiers motivation. The novel is fiction, however Marlantes, is a decorated Marine officer who commanded a Rifle Company during the Vietnam war. I feel that his experience lends a degree of authenticity to the novel. He was there and it shows through.

I'm also sure that if he'd workshopped his 'Matterhorn' manuscript here on tNBW he'd be advised to reduce the above passage to.....

Feeling alone and scared, he ran directly at the bunker where the grenades from Jake’s M-79 were exploding. The bullets from the M-60 machine gun slammed through the air on his right.

Act, implores the Ghost of Future Regret. I shan’t give you another chance.

Jacob hurries past the tomatoes and catches her up near the gate.

‘Miss Abigawa? Miss Aibagawa. I must ask you to forgive me.’

She has turned around and has one hand on the gate. ‘Why forgive?’

‘For what I now say.’ The marigolds are molten. ‘You are beautiful.’

She understands. Her mouth opens and closes. She takes a step back…

… into the wicket gate. Still shut, it rattles. The guard swings it open.

Damn fool, groans the Demon of Present Regret. What have you done?

Crumpling, burning and freezing, Jacob retreats, but the garden has quadrupled in length, and it may take a Wandering Jew’s eternity before he reaches the cucumbers, where he kneels behind a screen of dock leaves; where the snail on the pail flexes its stumpy horns; where ants carry patches of rhubarb leaf along the shaft of the how; and he wishes the Earth might spin backwards to a time she appeared, asking for rosemary, and he would do it all again, and he would do it all differently.

From 'The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet' by David Mitchell

Some find David Mitchell a bit quirky but I like his unconventional style; he writes by his own rules.

I loved this scene when I read it, and I always like to understand just why something appeals to me because the attraction is not always obvious.

I like this scene because within the opening section, the layout of single lines, matches Jacob’s nervous, pensive advance up the garden as he takes the risk of confronting Miss Aibagawa with his feelings for her.

I like the jumbled nature of the block paragraph because it matches his hurried, self-conscious retreat as he returns embarrassed, confused and regretful to his work. I feel his embarrassment and confusion.
 
The format or layout, the pattern of words upon the page, help tell the story.

I like how the garden is fittingly measured out in vegetables; ‘past the tomatoes;’  ‘he reaches the cucumbers.’

Within the block paragraph I like the use of three words ‘crumpling, burning and freezing’ to summarize Jacob’s state.  I like; ‘where the snail on the pail flexes its stumpy horns;’ and his lyrical style with the walk back from the gate seeming longer and the desire to turn back time.

I like the inner voices or consciences that guide Jacob.

Mostly I like this because it is enjoyable to read.

He ran as he’d never run before, with neither hope nor despair. He ran because the world was divided into opposites and his side had already been chosen for him, his only choice being whether or not to play his part with heart and courage. He ran because fate had placed him in a position of responsibility and he had accepted the burden. He ran because his self-respect required it. He ran because he loved his friends and this was the only thing he could do to end the madness that was killing and maiming them. He ran directly at the bunker where the grenades from Jake’s M-79 were exploding. The bullets from the M-60 machine gun slammed through the air on his right, slashing past him, whining like tortured cats, cracking like the bullwhip of death. He ran, having never felt so alone and frightened in his life.

'Matterhorn' by Karl Marlantes

I really like this scene from my current read 'Matterhorn'. I like the inclusion of the soldiers motivation. The novel is fiction, however Marlantes, is a decorated Marine officer who commanded a Rifle Company during the Vietnam war. I feel that his experience lends a degree of authenticity to the novel. He was there and it shows through.

I'm also sure that if he'd workshopped his 'Matterhorn' manuscript here on tNBW he'd be advised to reduce the above passage to.....

Feeling alone and scared, he ran directly at the bunker where the grenades from Jake’s M-79 were exploding. The bullets from the M-60 machine gun slammed through the air on his right.

Awesome!! Well done.

Act, implores the Ghost of Future Regret. I shan’t give you another chance.

Jacob hurries past the tomatoes and catches her up near the gate.

‘Miss Abigawa? Miss Aibagawa. I must ask you to forgive me.’

She has turned around and has one hand on the gate. ‘Why forgive?’

‘For what I now say.’ The marigolds are molten. ‘You are beautiful.’

She understands. Her mouth opens and closes. She takes a step back…

… into the wicket gate. Still shut, it rattles. The guard swings it open.

Damn fool, groans the Demon of Present Regret. What have you done?

Crumpling, burning and freezing, Jacob retreats, but the garden has quadrupled in length, and it may take a Wandering Jew’s eternity before he reaches the cucumbers, where he kneels behind a screen of dock leaves; where the snail on the pail flexes its stumpy horns; where ants carry patches of rhubarb leaf along the shaft of the how; and he wishes the Earth might spin backwards to a time she appeared, asking for rosemary, and he would do it all again, and he would do it all differently.

From 'The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet' by David Mitchell

Some find David Mitchell a bit quirky but I like his unconventional style; he writes by his own rules.

I loved this scene when I read it, and I always like to understand just why something appeals to me because the attraction is not always obvious.

I like this scene because within the opening section, the layout of single lines, matches Jacob’s nervous, pensive advance up the garden as he takes the risk of confronting Miss Aibagawa with his feelings for her.

I like the jumbled nature of the block paragraph because it matches his hurried, self-conscious retreat as he returns embarrassed, confused and regretful to his work. I feel his embarrassment and confusion.
 
The format or layout, the pattern of words upon the page, help tell the story.

I like how the garden is fittingly measured out in vegetables; ‘past the tomatoes;’  ‘he reaches the cucumbers.’

Within the block paragraph I like the use of three words ‘crumpling, burning and freezing’ to summarize Jacob’s state.  I like; ‘where the snail on the pail flexes its stumpy horns;’ and his lyrical style with the walk back from the gate seeming longer and the desire to turn back time.

I like the inner voices or consciences that guide Jacob.

Mostly I like this because it is enjoyable to read.

(Subjective Opinion Throughout)

The Thread.
The content of this thread could form a masterclass entitled ‘The power of the messaging troll in the Internet age.’

The whole ‘change’ debate was kick-started by someone who jumped into the conversation and completely out of context, proposed arguments and objections toward a subject that had not until that point been mentioned or raised.

It proves that you certainly can fool most of the people, most of the time.

The Old tNBW site
There are a fraternity of members who invested a lot of time and effort over the years within certain forum groups and threads upon the old site. I’m not talking about the general subject threads where the spats and such occurred, but the ‘workshop’ type threads where creative writing, grammar and literature discussions were held. There was also a lot of humour, informal banter and ad-hoc word games and such. To those who participated there is a lot of value within those pages. Naturally there is also emotional attachment by those who spent a significant section of their lives interacting there, and not least of all, in testament, there remain the voices of several cherished friends who have since passed away.  That said, members move on, the site moves on and of course those who didn’t participate within and experience said threads hold no vested interest or appreciation for them, nor indeed the principle of them.

I don’t advocate a return to the old site. However, I am very grateful that the old forums are available as an archive. Thank you for that.

The new tNBW site
The new site has many improvements and is quite splendid in many areas. I think you should be very proud of what you have achieved. The new tNBW site has gained widespread acclaim and I’m sure your effort and commitment are appreciated and valued by the entire membership community.

The (perceived) gap
The new tNBW site provides a vast improvement within the core function of publishing literary articles (creative writing manuscripts) for edit and development via by an interactive member community, and its supportive functions to that end i.e. text editing tools, membership functionality (billing, messaging etc), and general site features. They are all a step-up from the old site.

What is missing (within the opinion of those who chose to participate in such upon the old site), is some of the community stuff and hence some the relationships or social aspect.

The Ayes and Nays
There seem to be a couple of different requirements for a Writing Site amongst the tNBW members.

All of us require a site, the main function of which is to provide the service of publishing literary works for edit and development using review and critique via an interactive member community.

Some would prefer the site to be strictly functional along those lines and would prefer limited or no social aspect the site.

Some others (who also appreciate and fully support the primary function of the site) would prefer a greater degree of social and community based functionality. This desire does not promote or suggest a reversion to the old site; it is a positive desire to further develop the vastly improved new site

My Opinion:
I think the subject of this thread was misconstrued and the engineer of that diversion must have broken into a grin or happy dance at your ‘disheartened’ post.

I apologise for my part in the shenanigans because like a true stooge I rose to the bait and now I feel ashamed (ashamed of my participation within the matter, not my words upon the matter).

However, I feel this thread could actually be interpreted as positive. If nothing else it proves that members are very passionate about tNBW and making their experience here better.

The new site is brilliant, and whilst it is a vast improvement across all major areas, what is missing, or was left behind from the old site (for some members) is a degree of social interactivity that led to a more highly perceived state of community and camaraderie between said members and the site.

I think this is down to people rather than the format of the website. I think you have provided enough here for us to work with and to make of it, all that we can. I’d like to see some more of the old site style constructive literary development and literature discussion and ad-hoc non-serious social stuff occurring within the groups. I think this would introduce more of an in-house intellectual feel to the site and could lead to a more vibrant and rewarding membership experience.

I believe the development of such would provide the difference and distinction in value between tNBW and other sites.

What I cannot fathom is opposition to developing the social aspect of the site because members who prefer a 'strictly business' approach and do not wish to partake within the side-bar activities, can enjoy the core, non-social functionally of the site to their hearts content and without disturbance. (And here I would cite our old pal Sonny from the old tNBW who happily (and heavily) used the site in terms of manuscript development via review and critique for many years and who rarely ventured into the forums, his interests being elsewhere).

Regards, Dill.

Yes but….

Why did you do it?