JOHNNY WALKER CRITIQUE

Danny Gillan

This is an impressive piece, and I enjoyed reading it.

It brings the narrator vividly to life, and gives not only a clear picture of his present existence, but also enough of his past history to explain why he has become what he now is, without, however, in either case being so detailed as to deprive the reader of the pleasure of reading between the lines.

It is interesting that a story about a man who could well be described as a waste of space is not at all depressing, and this is largely because you have injected a smidgen of humour – as in the very first line, which starts us off very effectively. The ending is also good, drawing a line neatly underneath all that has gone before.

I also admire the structure of the story, the building up of the narrator’s character and especially the way the significant date is introduced so that the reader only gradually comes to understand its importance. And tension is carefully increased as we move towards the climax of Constance’s visit.

The prose has good variety of pace and rhythm, and it is obvious that you handle words with dexterity. It’s always a pleasure to read work by someone who understands grammar, punctuation and spelling (although as an unrepentant pedant I have to say that I think ‘onto’ should be split into two words).

I thought for a while that we were going to have to do without dialogue (a lack of dialogue in fiction always seems to me to be an opportunity missed), but it did come along, and sounded very natural and within character.

After all that well deserved praise is there nothing about which to complain? Well, there are a few things. Firstly, I was bothered by your use of ‘kids’ to describe the young barmen. I realise that the word provides a link with Constance, but I think you might say something like ‘I call them kids, but they’re young men, really.’

Next, I don’t much care for the ‘constant Constance’ gimmick, which strikes me as far too contrived. If you must use it, then it might be a good idea to let the narrator mock or laugh at himself for thinking of it.

A third point (of minor importance, as were the first two) is that it seemed to me slightly odd that our hero, nicknamed Johnny Walker, should go for brandy rather than a Johnny Walker scotch.

The next comment, however, does carry more weight. Since you are writing something which purports to be true to life, I think you’ve got to do rather more to justify that part of it which is a bit difficult to swallow – that is to say, Constance’s annual visits. Why does she try to rescue her father only once a year? Why does she choose that particular date? Would she really choose to give up her birthday to this self-imposed task when any other day of the year would do as well? The best solution that I have been able to think of is that you let Johnny remember and tell us about the very first time she found him, and let him at that time make some appeal to her to come back every year, even though he is never going to go with her back to a normal life. You will probably be able to invent something better. And might it be possible, however briefly, to give some suggestion of how she found him?

Apart from wanting something which will help the reader to believe in these annual visits, I would also like to see the climax made rather more dramatic. At the moment it slips by very quickly and quietly. The explanation of why Constance comes so regularly will help, but if we could also see (through Johnny’s eyes, which will make it all the more effective) something of her anguish, I think that would have a major effect.

Finally, although I meant the complimentary things that I said in the first few paragraphs of this report, there is a negative side to all the good qualities of the story, because, since you are allowing Johnny to tell his own story, you are suggesting that he has a greater control of his thoughts and his words than I think is likely. I wanted him to wander mentally rather more, sometimes to lose the thread of what he was saying, so that you would show more clearly what his addiction has done to him, and to suggest the deterioration which will follow.

I’m afraid I have little idea of whether you would be able to sell this story or not. As it stands, I suspect that many editors would consider that, well written though it may be, it is perhaps not striking enough. I doubt if you are the first person to write about an alcoholic tramp. If you accept my suggestion that the sequence of Constance’s visit needs to be expanded, and if you can increase the drama in the scene, both of which will give the story greater depth, that might make it more acceptable.

But I do not want to end on a negative note. Even if this story does not get published, I am quite certain that a writer of your talent will eventually be successful.

Michael Legat