Pardon the unexpected hiatus…I just moved to a new state! Hopefully this blog will be back on track now that I’m a bit more settled in.

Chapter 27, “Of Reading and Plots” is…wait, is that seriously the chapter title?

Well, it’s boring, but I guess it’s better than “The Doom of Innocence”.

This is another disproportionately short chapter, and it mainly outlines Eragon’s time in Terim. There’s a severe lack of Saphira in this chapter, but it’s noted that she’s lonely hiding outside the city, with Eragon only being able to visit her in the evenings.

One thing that I wondered about most during this chapter is Eragon’s reading progress. He spends his morning with Brom learning how to read. After a week, he can read, albeit slowly, a page without Brom’s help. As far as cognitive development goes, most children are ready to read by ages 5 or 6. How long would it take to teach a fifteen-year-old to read? On one hand, it might take less time than a young child, because in theory, he’s already developed the cognition to be able to read, but just hasn’t put it into practice. On the other hand, even though he’s still young, his brain is already less plastic than a young child’s, and it would take longer for him to learn something new. This is why learning a new language is easier for children than adults.

Eragon also has a dream where he sees a beautiful chained woman and wakes up sobbing uncontrollably. I know it’s supposed to make me sad as well, but really…I don’t feel anything.

He saw a young woman, bent over by sorrow, chained in a cold, hard cell. A beam of moonlight shone through a barred window set high in the wall and fell on her face. A single tear rolled down her cheek, like a liquid diamond.

…except for maybe chuckling at the phrase “liquid diamond”. Nice one, Paolini.

Moving on to the next chapter, Brom, Eragon, and Jeod prepare to make their way into the castle where records are kept, so they can try to track down the oil the Ra’zac used.

From his waist swung an elegant rapier and a leather pouch. Brom eyed the rapier and observed, ‘That toad sticker is too thin for any real fighting. What will you do if someone comes after you with a broadsword or flamberge?’

‘Be realistic,’ said Joed. ‘None of the guards has a flamberge. Besides, this toad sticker is faster than a broadsword.’

For an embarrassingly long time, that paragraph was the only thing I knew about different types of swords. When I was writing my generic fantasy novels in high school, almost all the characters used rapiers because of Eragon, or katanas because I was a weeaboo nerd.

What’s really notable about this chapter is all the missed chances for excitement. They bribe their way into the records room and read as many scrolls as they can trying to find the route the oil took. Because that’s what I love about fantasy novels, watching the protagonists read about taxes and shipments.

Actually, I do like that they’re being practical about tracing the oil, with no over-the-top theatrics or magical aid. When they’re caught in the records room, though, there’s no chase scene, no fight…just Brom and Eragon hiding while Jeod deflects the guards, and they all sneak out safely.

Once they return to Jeod’s house, they pull out a map and look at all the cities the oil’s been shipped to, hoping they can find the right one that will lead them to the Ra’zac. This is when I’m really glad the book has a map of [Algaseia] on the front and back covers, so it’s easier to follow what the characters are talking about. Without it, a lot of what they’re saying would be nonsense, like when you listen to someone talk about places you’ve never heard of.

[T]he oil wasn’t sent to all of them. The parchment only lists Kuasta, Dras-Leona, and Belatona. Kuasta wouldn’t work for the Ra’zac; it’s on the coast and surrounded by mountains. Aroughs is isolated like Ceunon, though it is a center of trade. That leaves Belatona and Dras-Leona, which are rather close together. Of the two, I think Dras-Leona is likelier. It’s larger and better situated. 

That really bugs me. Eragon’s supposed to be this simple farm boy. He’s likely to have never left Palancar Valley before this story begins, and only just learned to read. But suddenly he knows all about geography and of places he’s never seen before, just by looking at a map?

This is the same issue I had with the dialogue before. Make it flowery or plain, give me an educated young man or a simple farm boy–I just want consistency. Is that so much to ask?

Although, Joed brings up something I hadn’t thought of.

If someone were to die from Seither oil in Galbatorix’s court, it would be all to easy for an earl or some other lord to discover that the Empire has been buying large amounts of it.

I always pictured Galby in some desolate stronghold, mad and alone. The idea that he has a “court”, like lords and ladies, nobility…it doesn’t fit in my mind. I’m having a hard time getting the two ideas to mesh.

But also, why would anyone care if their autocrat has the dangerous oil? What would people do? Protest? Riot? Why would they? That’s one good thing about being an amoral, evil dictator. You don’t have to worry about public opinion, because you can just execute the public whose opinions you don’t like.

Moving right along, chapter 24 was another short chapter, but still better than the previous one. Eragon and Brom arrive in Teirm, a large city on the coast. Here, they hope to find a record of the merchant that brought the oil the Ra’zac used. This chapter is largely description of the city, with Brom playing tour guide. We learn the layout of the city, and how it keeps Teirm safe. The only things I really thought were notable about this chapter was just how generic the tavern Brom and Eragon visited, and Eragon and Saphira’s relationship.

Every writers has been told, “show, don’t tell” more than once. Reading Eragon this time around, I realized that most of Eragon’s and Saphira’s relationship in the beginning of the novel was a lot of telling. In recent chapters, we finally get more showing, especially when Saphira demanded that Eragon started flying with her. It gives us this small exchange, too.

“But Brom and I do have some advantages most people don’t. We’ll be all right.”

“If anything happens, I’m going to pin you to my back and never let you off.”

“I love you too.”

At least, I think it’s sweet.

I didn’t think that I would like this chapter. It’s longer than the previous two combined, and I thought it would be more dialogue-heavy exposition. Then something strange happened. I actually started getting into it.

In Teirm, Brom meets up with an old friend, Jeod, who’s quite surprised to see him again. For starters, Jeod thought that Brom was dead, probably for decades. And, suddenly, I wished that I could read this book for the first time again. I’m going to be intrigued by nearly anything that involves faking your death, or leading others to believe you’re dead, especially when you don’t know why the character did that. When I read Jeod’s and Brom’s reunion, I remembered how much I’d wanted to know about Brom’s past when I first read this at fourteen.

This chapter is full of mystery about Brom’s past and Jeod’s identity. When they think Eragon can’t hear them, they discuss places and people Eragon hasn’t heard of: Trojenhiem, Ajihad, Surda. Some of those names you’ll find on the map on the front and back covers, but a lot of it is still unknown. Being able to identify Surda on the map doesn’t mean you know what’s going on there, or why it’s important.

In fiction, having questions the audience wants answered helps keep them hooked. It’s the same reason I’m still reading A Song of Ice and Fire. I don’t necessarily enjoy the books, but goddammit, I need to know what happens next! But at the same time, having too many questions without enough answers can also frustrate the audience and make them give up on the story. This was a problem with shows like Lost and Heroes: questions that never get resolutions.

I think Paolini handled this well. Everything that Brom and Jeod discuss out of Eragon’s earshot (or so they think) is explained and resolved by the end of this book. The plot moves forward from there, giving us more questions, more plots–and they get resolved in the next book. There’s enough there that I want to know more and keep reading, but not too much that it makes me crazy and want to give up on the work.

I have to give props for the glossary in the back of the book, which translates words and phrases from the Ancient Language into English. It gives us enough information to get us through the novel, but it doesn’t give too much away.

I also like Saphira’s sarcasm when Eragon attempts to climb up a cliff to see her, and gets stuck.

You’re right. After all, how can a mere dragon expect to tell a man like yourself what to do? In fact, everyone should stand in awe of your brilliance of finding the only dead end. Why, if you had started a few feet in either direction, the path to the top would have been clear.

Saphira would make a good blogger.

There’s even a dose of realism added. At this point I’m trying not to get too hung up on the details of smaller things, like, “Shouldn’t Eragon have scurvy by now because he’s only been eating meat for weeks?” But I really appreciate that Eragon doesn’t know how to read, like the good medieval peasant he is. It irks me a bit that Garrow could somehow read, but I won’t let it detract too much from this.

If there’s one thing that I don’t like in this chapter, it’d be how Brom spells out the reasons why Eragon can’t contact Roran, or try to draw the Ra’zac off his tail. As much as it I appreciate Brom’s practicality, I think the “stay in hiding so you can protect the ones you love” conversation went on just a bit too long, and it’s nothing new or exciting. Peter Parker could have told you the same thing in fewer words.

Well, at least Roran’s not dead. Someday I’ll elaborate on why I hate the “everyone I love is dead” trope, but for now, that’s another post altogether.