Save the Pearls Readthrough (Part V)

As we approach the end of Save the Pearls: Revealing Eden, today Cliff rewrites everything.

Me:

Was it even possible for two people to truly see each other in a calculated world where its inhabitants mated to improve their offspring’s genetics or to control a lesser mate?

This is not a high school research paper! You don’t need a topic sentence!

Cliff Pervocracy: You also don’t need a terrible sentence.

How about:

“In a calculated world where mating was a matter of math and genetics, survival and control, was it possible for a man and a woman to truly know each other?”

(okay, that’s not great, but at least it’s more sentence-y.)

Me:

She imagined him leaping on her, pinning her underneath him, his strong body pressing her down no matter how she writhed and protested. His jaw would clamp onto her neck and she’d scream.

Every time you think this can’t get any rapier…

She reminded Eden of one of the girls shown on the old Beauty Map—an English Rose. How ironic that long ago the two of them might have been called “hot.”

Don’t forget, Eden is actually hot! She’s not really ugly! She’s pretty and blond and thin! (Why would there be such a thing as the beauty map? Why would a regime that polices beauty standards to the point of giving people official ratings also be going “Hey, fun fact: These people we say are ugly used to be considered totally hot!”)

Also “English Rose” is another “racist slur,” I’m sure.

Cliff Pervocracy: Alright, I’m gonna keep doing rewrites. I am not an amazing writer, but I know what a goddamn sentence is made of.

She imagined him leaping on her, pinning her underneath him, his strong body pressing her down no matter how she writhed and protested. His jaw would clamp onto her neck and she’d scream.

She imagined him leaping on her, the dull thud as they slammed into the ground, his jaw clamping on her neck–and her own voice, screaming.

(God damn it is impossible to not make this sound like rape. A better rewrite would be “[REDACTED].”)

She reminded Eden of one of the girls shown on the old Beauty Map—an English Rose. How ironic that long ago the two of them might have been called “hot.”

She reminded Eden of a girl she’d seen on an old Race Chart–a British girl, eyes turned down, cheeks flushed rosy. Eden felt a shock of bitter irony recoiling at that unsettlingly translucent skin, that flaccid yellow hair, and realizing that she looked no better.

Me:

“Where is that?” Eden said.
He gave her a nasty grin. “No Man’s Land.”
Exactly what she most feared: now, she’d never find anyone to mate.

Just what I would think when heading into a godforsaken wasteland: “I’ll never find a husband out here!”

Argenti Aertheri: “Serious” question when y’all finish it — where’d Daisy go? Did she just disappear or something?

Having let the horri-bad sink in a day now, the absolute worst part might be that this is the start of a series — there are going to be more of these?!

katz — that’s about where I was when I asked if the big reveal would be that Eden’s really foolish. Hint —

Yep, that’s basically it. The “plot”, in a sentence — Eden does a thing, that thing is stupid, repeat until Eden learns something.

Which is really fucked up if this is actually an attempt at reverse racism, because by that standard the “coals” should’ve been the ones to learn something…instead we have the “pearls” (the minority) having to learn how to be um … More Native I guess? More willing to mate outside their race? IDFK >.<

Redeeming factors — it sucks too much to have an audience, I hope.

Ami Angelwings: I really think the furry porn is an excuse for her to do the savage black man thing while having an in-world explanation for why it’s okay for her to use those terms to describe him. She may not be doing this consciously b/c it’s pretty obv she already associates black people with animals in her head, her real life statements about black people’s athleticism dovetails into this. She does the exact same thing with the “pearl oppression” in the first place, that it’s okay for Eden to be calling black women “coal bitch” b/c she’s really the oppressed one. Foyt has little convenient in-world excuses for why it’s okay for this story to have such blatant racist crap. >_>

Fenriswolf: The people here who can bear to read this impress me. *shudder* It’s kind of hilarious but horrifying both in it’s racism and the idea anyone can read something this badly written and transparent and enjoy it. Shocked

Me: Fenris, we do it so you don’t have to Smile

Me:

For hours they’d driven past miles of mud-baked shanties and desolate fields with an occasional tree or small rodent scurrying past. Not a living soul appeared.
She felt dirty and grimy from the layers of dust that coated her skin. She’d tied the company T-shirt around her nose and mouth to filter the dust and the nauseating smell of plant petrol. The shirt stuck to her skin, wet with sweat. Even if she’d been brave enough to jump out of the car, she lacked the energy. Gummy humidity chained her listless body to the seat. She lifted a hand with the odd feeling that it didn’t belong to her, and waved away dive-bombing mosquitoes.

I…have no idea what to make of this sentence. Trees are scurrying past? Animals don’t count as living? It’s a desert, but it’s humid and there are mosquitoes?

Cliff Pervocracy: (Anyone who finds the rewrites annoying, please let me know; I’m just having some fun with them.)

For hours they’d driven past miles of mud-baked shanties and desolate fields with an occasional tree or small rodent scurrying past. Not a living soul appeared.
She felt dirty and grimy from the layers of dust that coated her skin. She’d tied the company T-shirt around her nose and mouth to filter the dust and the nauseating smell of plant petrol. The shirt stuck to her skin, wet with sweat. Even if she’d been brave enough to jump out of the car, she lacked the energy. Gummy humidity chained her listless body to the seat. She lifted a hand with the odd feeling that it didn’t belong to her, and waved away dive-bombing mosquitoes.

For hours they’d driven past miles of mud-brick hovels and desolate, parched fields. Now and then a tree stood out of the sandy soil, or a rodent scurried by the side of the road. There were no other signs of life.

Eden’s skin was coated with a thick layer of dirt. She’d tied the company t-shirt around her nose and mouth to filter the dust and the nauseating smell of plant petrol. The shirt clung to her skin, heavy with sweat and dust. Pounding heat made every movement an effort; jumping out of the car, even if she’d had the courage, seemed an impossibilit

Fenriswolf: Not only not annoying, but like a balm for the soul. cheers

redlocker: Ok.

…ok. Just read through the thread, and reading all of the commentary (holy shit, you people are brave. And I thought I was masochistic with my bad movie viewing). You know, if the bar for Dystopian Sci-Fi is THIS low…maybe there’s hope for new writers? Especially given the bad word of mouth of this particular work?

Then again, maybe not. I’m so cynical at this point, I can easily see this being a cult hit. By “cult hit”, I mean something cherished only by Stormfront members and that one creepy, pretentious pseudo-libertarian you argued with on the internet.

cloudiah: Ha, we should ask Steele or Monsieur Sans Nom [two trolls] to review it.

Cliff Pervocracy: Oh man, our resident Pretentious Trolls would just explode.

Because on the one hand, it’s a racist book that tells them all their stereotypes were right and black people are just waiting to oppress the poor Pearls. But on the other hand, it’s a chick book.

They’d be so torn.

Ami Angelwings: I think the MRAs would love Save The Pearls and point to it as proof that white women desire “alphas” “thugs” and black dudes… if they were a little more analytical, they’d also say that Eden’s hatred for the other women in the book shows the true nature of women & how much we despise each other…

They would also love how much Eden wants to marry up, and how much she keeps thinking about being mated and kept safe by a strong man.

I think in general they would love using this book as an example of the inner workings of the female mind (and esp the white female mind)

Me: Red, unfortunately this is vanity published, and the bar for vanity published books is…zero. This would never fly if she’d sent it to a real publisher (I hope? Please?). Of course, the standard publication process is becoming less common, so perhaps this is the way of the future *shudder*

cloudiah: The reviews on Amazon are hilarious. Ami, have you been writing them?

Blackbloc: I am happy with the rise of Print on Demand for vanity publishing, because at least with PoD it only gets printed on demand. Whereas vanity publishing houses are there only so they can take the money of people with more money than talent who think that they deserve to push their litterary monstrosities on the world.

Maybe PoD will become so popular that vanity publishers will die off, and then at least all the crap that isn’t even fit for fanfic boards will get published but die on the vine without getting printed.

Me:

An antique boom box filled the air with pounding music, each beat twisting the knot in Eden’s head tighter. The fast, driving, spoken lyrics told a gruesome tale of violence and revenge. A typical example of man’s headlong race to destruction in the late twentieth century.

Rap music is just noise, amirite? And the lyrics are so violent!

Cliff Pervocracy:

An antique record player filled the air with screeching music, each bleat of cellos and clarinets twisting the knot in Eden’s head tighter. The harsh, wordless sound of the orchestra recalled savage, primitive traditions. A typical example of man’s headlong race to destruction in the late twentieth century.

Me: Well played.

Another entry for worst simile:

Her insides twisted, like a strand of DNA.

Me: Things Eden would rather die than do:

I’d rather be dead than mate with one of my kind.

She’d rather die than ride in a canoe.

I’ll never again be the Old Eden. I’d rather die.

If he failed her, she’d end up like that poor woman, begging for a shot. She’d rather be dead.

I’d rather get The Heat than be your mate.

Cliff Pervocracy: MASHUP TIME!

I’d rather ride in a canoe than mate with one of my kind.

If he failed her, she’d end up like the Old Eden. She’d rather be begging for a shot.

cloudiah: I’m weeping here. Weeping.

Me: More rapeyness! This time it’s rapey eating. She doesn’t want to eat, so he forces her to, and she liiiiiikes it.

Bramford jumped on her, pinning her beneath him. His brutally handsome face hovered over hers. Eden
stared, transfixed, into fiery eyes as an unfamiliar fluttering darted in her chest, like a small bird released
from its cage. She kicked her feet and squirmed, but she was powerless against him. So she used her words,
the only weapon she possessed.
“Are you going to rip me to pieces?” He flinched as if she’d slapped him. Eden went on, heedless of the
danger. “You’re a predator, aren’t you? You’d enjoy it. You planned this power trip all along—you can’t
fool me.”
He roared angrily and she shrank back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his face a
mass of contradictions. Then he gave her a look that could kill. “You know, you’re a pain in the ass, Eden.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Now eat,” he said, and forced a berry to her lips.
The tart juice burst into her mouth. An immediate feeling of well-being surged through her. Almost as
good as oxy.

Cliff Pervocracy: Oh boy, so much to rewrite…

Bramford jumped on her, pinning her beneath him. His brutally handsome face hovered over hers. Eden
stared, transfixed, into fiery eyes as an unfamiliar fluttering darted in her chest, like a small bird released
from its cage. She kicked her feet and squirmed, but she was powerless against him. So she used her words,
the only weapon she possessed.
“Are you going to rip me to pieces?” He flinched as if she’d slapped him. Eden went on, heedless of the
danger. “You’re a predator, aren’t you? You’d enjoy it. You planned this power trip all along—you can’t
fool me.”
He roared angrily and she shrank back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his face a
mass of contradictions. Then he gave her a look that could kill. “You know, you’re a pain in the ass, Eden.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Now eat,” he said, and forced a berry to her lips.
The tart juice burst into her mouth. An immediate feeling of well-being surged through her. Almost as
good as oxy.

Bramford walked so silently she didn’t notice him until he was inches behind her. Eden jumped, startled, whirling to face him.
“Are you going to rip me to pieces?” He flinched as if she’d slapped him. Eden realized she’d spoken in haste. “I’m sorry,” she said “It’s just you’re… well, stealthy.”
Bramford grinned. “I have something for you,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Eat,” he said and held a berry to her lips.
The tart juice burst into her mouth. A feeling of well-being surged through her instantly. Almost as good as Oxy, she thought.

Sharculese: by oxy does she mean oxycontin? didn’t they stop making that shit?

Me:

He sniffed the air. “Storm coming.”
“What? How can you tell?”
“A lull in the sounds, the slight drop in temperature. Don’t you feel it?”
“I’m not receiving any data, remember?” Thanks to you.
“Before you would have noticed the signs.”
The sound of his voice soothed her so she tried to encourage him to talk.
“Really?” she said. “When was that?”
“About a million years ago, when you looked something like me.”

Hoyt thinks black people are evolutionarily primitive, story at 11.

Cliff Pervocracy:

He sniffed the air. “Storm coming.”
“What? How can you tell?”
“A lull in the sounds, the slight drop in temperature. Don’t you feel it?”
“I’m not receiving any data, remember?” Thanks to you.
“Before you would have noticed the signs.”
The sound of his voice soothed her so she tried to encourage him to talk.
“Really?” she said. “When was that?”
“About a million years ago, when you looked something like me.”

He sniffed the air. “Storm coming.”
“What? How can you tell?”
“A lull in the sounds, the slight drop in temperature. Don’t you feel it?”
“I’m not receiving any data, remember?” Thanks to you.
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he chuckled.

Previous part here.  Cliff did so many rewrites that we’ll have to pick them up again next time in our last post.

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