In Review: A Fool's Goddess - Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hello, and welcome to the latest review. This chapter was fairly beefy, but unfortunately, I can’t promise a decent sized deconstruction since I’ve got some shit to do tonight. Probably should have just written the damn thing earlier in the week instead, but most of what I would have brought up today was touched on in prior reviews so it shouldn’t be a problem.
Though, it’s probably not a good look for me to keep bouncing between oversized and minuscule reviews, yeah? But since last chapter’s ended up way bigger than I planned, I’ll give myself a little leeway this time. There’s also the fact that I already spent four hours writing my next novel today so I’m a little typing tired as it is. Maybe it’s flippant of me to get lazy on my hindsight work when I’ve got a new project lined up, but I do think it’s better to strive for new heights than to look back at where you’ve been.
Ah, but that’s enough sophistry. Let’s dig in.
This chapter can basically be summarized as a setup. Very little progression occurs as we instead focus on outlining the intents for the future and the relationships between characters. We get some standard flavoring for the whole studio followed by a heartfelt exchange between Hed and Lior. I’m quite fond of this bit (it still makes me tear up a little) and I’m pretty happy with the implications it sets up for the remainder of the story.
Setups are an interesting tool in storytelling. They’re basically essential for twists and good drama, but they’re also very easy to mess up. Foreshadowing an event too heavily spoils it while not presenting the setup clearly enough can make readers feel unprepared or deceived. In the interest of not soiling the experience for those who might be reading these reviews alongside the chapters, I’ll refrain from touching on future events, but please be aware I might imply more than intended.
Not that I’m trying to set up some kind of deception in this review, mind you.
One of the dumbest tropes in writing is that characters assuring their survival will die and those that take on a more dire view will live. I don’t know why this is so common, but boy is it fucking stupid. Maybe people feel some sort of schadenfreude at seeing cocky hotshots lose their gambles while jaded realists live on—who knows. Point is, if you have your cast grimly face a threat, most people will assume they’ll come out the other end alive, and vice versa.
Of course, you also need to take story tone into account; a tale that evades death and realism will typically see its heroes surviving the final battle no matter how brutal it is and a horror story might kill off its entire cast because why the fuck not (here’s to you, The Mist). As always, I’m generalizing here, but having a story portray death as a constant threat, only for your protagonists to consistently evade it feels floppy and deceitful.
In A Fool’s Goddess, my past self had already established death was a real danger and could strike very quickly, as were the cases of Master Malka and Chen. As such, this chapter was meant to remind readers of the lengths Asa—and Lior—are willing to go to. The cast prepares themselves for the worst because they know it can happen.
I then sprinkled in some of Hed’s hotheadedness (hot-hed-edness?) with Lior’s martyrdom and we end up with a nice cacophony of uncertainty. It’s unclear who’s truly in danger, with maybe the exception of Libi as she’s getting sent to the pregnant lady’s house. Then again, I did take the time to meticulously describe Malka’s smashed head so maybe readers wouldn’t put past me to kill off a child and a pregnant woman.
God damn, I hope that’s not the impression I give. I know I like to write about life’s nightmares on occasion, but I do have a heart, you know…
Anyways, by the end of Lior’s discussion with his apprentices, I wanted to avoid having any obvious “death flags”. For the uninitiated, death flag is a term for moments, particularly statements, in a story that heavily imply a character is going to bite it by expressing their plans for the future. Common examples are “Once we get through this, I’m going to ask him out!” or “Don’t worry—I’ve got a family back home cheering me on!”. These are usually said by tertiary characters, but can also signal the death of a major member of the cast.
I’m not terribly fond of these unless they’re used for comedy. As a trope, death flags have been abused to the point of uselessness. You obviously need to add a layer of drama to make a character’s death sting, but I personally prefer a more subtle approach, a la my bullshit in having that tender moment between Lior and Malka before her death. I felt that the assumed setup at that point was that they were both going to get caught up in some war and one of them would die there, so I instead switched gears and gave Malka an ignoble death at the risk of annoying readers.
But as always, do what feels right to you. Death flags can be great for stories directed at younger audiences who aren’t jaded to hell and back like me. Know your story, know your audience, and know yourself.
So, by the end of LIor’s initial prayer to Tornara, he’s made it clear he’s willing to die for the sake of his apprentices. Saying that to his beloved goddess is a big message as it implies that he’s willing to never finish his monument to her in exchange for saving his students. A very conflicting statement that is then further muddled by Hed’s intervention.
As I said, I do like this exchange on an emotional level, but I think the way it reshapes Lior’s plans it’s the best part of it. He realizes that his own death, even for the sake of saving others, won’t make anyone happy, so he’s forced to accept that he needs to live too. While Lior was never suicidal, his conversation with Hed puts an end to his self-sacrificing desires.
“You little shit. It’s not nice to say things that make people cry.” Though that line could be rewritten (“It’s not nice to make people cry” is a little cleaner), I think it does a good job showing that understanding between the two. And while Lior says that to Hed, it’s also him accepting that his own words bringing Hed to tears were inconsiderate. This cements their feelings and Lior reluctantly accepts Hed’s plan instead.
…Man, I did a lot things wrong back then, but sometimes, I see nuggets like this. But as I prefer to stay humble and refrain from smelling my own farts, I’ll just say it’s moments like these that make me believe I might actually be able to become a decent writer someday.
The hope is certainly there.
After their teary hug, Hed heads out (heds out?) and Lior consults Tornara once more. Now he asks his goddess to ensure his own life, and some mysterious feeling assures him his wish will be granted—as a fool is wont to feel, of course. If there were death flags in this tale, they’re all kinds of confusing now, but that’s how I like it. Please stick with me to the end to find out what happens to the goddess’ fool.
And that’s Chapter Twenty-seven. In a surprise twist, this review was pretty standard sized, so that means I’m a big, fat liar. I hope it was a good read (I ended up liking the subject matter more than expected myself) and that maybe something I’ve said here will help you when writing your own stories.
Whether I was able to provide genuine advice or the sense that I’m a hack you can outdo, I’m happy. Like I said before, the source of inspiration is insignificant in the face of the feelings it inspires. If my being a crappy writer drives someone to write a New York Time’s bestseller, then I’ll consider my path worth walking.
Take care, darling. Hopefully this pandemic will end someday, but until then, stay safe, stay healthy, and email Arc System Works and Cygames to put rollback netcode into Granblue Fantasy Versus.
Later, alligator.
