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Eragon by Christopher Paolini Rating: ••• (Recommended) |
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Debut After
every hundred pages or so of Christopher Paolini’s
debut novel, Eragon, I had to pause to remind myself that he
started writing this book when he was fifteen years old, and finished it
before he was seventeen. While most of his themes show the influence of Tolkien and other writers on Paolini,
there’s enough original creativity in Eragon to win admirers of all ages. We’ll forgive the
teenage author for some predictable plot twists and the occasional deus ex machina, and we applaud
his emerging talent and look forward to the next book. Eragon
is the name of a rural boy who finds a dragon egg that hatches to become Saphira, and as a dragon rider, Eragon
the orphan leaves his homeland to fight the bad guys. Here’s an excerpt, all of chapter titled, “Flight
of Destiny,” pp. 70-74: Eragon’s
mind churned as he sped on his way. He ran as fast as he could, refusing to
stop even when his breath came in great gasps. As he pounded down the cold
road, he cast out with his mind for Saphira, but
she was too far away for him to contact. He thought about what to say to Garrow. There was no choice now; he would have to reveal Saphira. He
arrived home, panting for air and heart pounding. Garrow
stood by the barn with the horses. Eragon
hesitated. Should I talk to him now? He won’t believe me unless Saphira is here—I’d better find her first. He slipped
around the farm and into the forest. Saphira!
he shouted with his thoughts. I
come, was the dim
reply. Through the words he sensed her alarm. He waited impatiently, though it was not long before the sound of
her wings filled the air. She landed amid a gout of
smoke. What happened? she queried. He
touched her shoulder and closed his eyes. Calming his mind, he quickly told
her what had occurred. When he mentioned the strangers, Saphira
recoiled. She reared and roared deafeningly’ then whipped her tail over his
head. He scrambled back in surprise, ducking as her tail hit a snowdrift.
Bloodlust and fear emanated from her in great sickening waves. Fire!
Enemies! Death! ~ Murderers! What’s
wrong? He put all of his strength into the words, but iron wall surrounded
her mind, shielding her thoughts. She let out another roar and gouged the
earth with her claws, tearing the frozen ground. Stop it! Garrow will hear! Oaths
betrayed, souls killed, eggs shattered! Blood everywhere. Murderers! Frantic, he blocked out Saphira’s emotions and watched her tail. When it flicked
past him, he dashed to her side and grabbed a spike on her back. Clutching it, he pulled himself into the small
hollow at the base of her neck and held on tightly as she reared again.
“Enough, Saphira!” he bellowed. Her stream of
thoughts ceased abruptly. He ran a hand over her scales. “Everything’s going
to be all right.” She crouched and her wings rushed upward. They hung there
for an instant, then drove down as she flung herself
into the sky. Eragon yelled as the ground dropped away and
they rose above the trees. Turbulence buffeted him, snatching the breath out
of his mouth, Saphira
ignored his terror and banked toward the Spine. Underneath, he glimpsed the
farm and the The air was so cold that frost
accumulated on his eyelashes. They had reached the mountains faster than he
thought possible. From the air, the peaks looked like giant razor-sharp teeth
waiting to slash them to ribbons. Saphira wobbled
unexpectedly, and Eragon heaved over her side. He
wiped his lips, tasting bile, and buried his head against her neck. We
have to go back, he
pleaded. The strangers are coming to the farm. Garrow
has to be warned. Turn around! There was no answer. He reached for her
mind, but was blocked by a barrier of roiling fear and anger. Determined to
make her turn around, he grimly wormed into her mental armor. He pushed at its weak places, undermined the
stronger sections, and fought to make her listen, but to no avail. Soon mountains surrounded them, forming
tremendous white walls broken by granite cliffs. Blue glaciers sat between
the summits like frozen rivers. Long valleys and ravines opened beneath them
He heard the dismayed screech of birds far below as Saphira
soared into view. He saw a herd of woolly goats hounding from ledge to ledge
on a rocky bluff. Eragon was battered by swirling gusts from Saphira’s wings, and whenever she moved her neck, he was
tossed from side to side. She seemed tireless. He was afraid she was going to
fly through the night. Finally, as darkness fell, she tilted into a shallow
dive. He
looked ahead and saw that they were headed for a small clearing in a valley.
Saphira spiraled down, leisurely drifting over the
treetops. She pulled back as the ground neared, filled her wings with air,
and landed on her rear legs. Her powerful muscles rippled as they absorbed
the shock of impact. She dropped to all fours and skipped a step to keep her
balance. Eragon slid off without waiting for her to
fold her wings. As
he struck the ground, his knees buckled, and his cheek slammed against the
snow. He gasped as excruciating pain seared through his legs, sending tears
to his eyes. His muscles, cramped from clenching for so long, shook
violently. He rolled onto his back, shivering, and stretched his limbs as
best he could. Then he forced himself to look down. Two large blots darkened
his wool pants on the insides of his thighs. He touched the fabric. It was
wet. Alarmed, he peeled off the pants and grimaced. The insides of his legs
were raw and bloody. The skin was gone, rubbed off by Saphira’s
hard scales. He gingerly felt the abrasions and winced. Cold bit into him as
he pulled the pants back on, and he cried out as they scraped against the
sensitive wounds. He tried to stand, but his legs would not support him. The
deepening night obscured his surroundings; the shaded mountains were
unfamiliar. I’m in the Spine, I don’t know where, during the middle of
winter, with a crazed dragon, unable to walk or shelter. Night is falling. I
have to get back to the farm tomorrow. And the only way to do that is to fly,
which I can’t endure anymore. He took a deep breath. Oh, I wish Saphira could breathe fire. He turned his head and saw
her next to him, crouched low to the ground. He put a hand on her side and
found it trembling. The
barrier in her mind was gone. Without it,
her fear scorched through him. He clamped down on it and slowly soothed her with
gentle images. Why do the strangcrs frighten you? Murderers,
she hissed. Garrow is in danger and you kidnap me on this ridiculous
journey! Are you unable to protect me? She growled deeply and snapped her jaws. Ah, but if you
think you can, why run? Death
is a poison. He leaned on one elbow and stifled his
frustration. Saphira, look where we are!
The sun is down, and your flight has stripped my legs as easily as I would
scale a fish. Is that what you wanted? No. Then why did you do it? he demanded. Through his link with Saphira, he felt her regret for his pain, but not for her
actions. She looked away and refused to answer. The icy temperature deadened Eragon’s legs; although it lessened the pain, he knew that his condition was not good.
He changed tack. I’m going to freeze unless you make me a shelter or
hollow so I can stay warm. Even a pile of Pine needles and branches would do. She seemed relieved that he had stopped
interrogating her. There is no need. I will curl around you and cover you
with my wings—the fire inside me will stay the cold. Eragon let his head thump back on the ground.
Fine, but scrape the snow off the ground. It’ll be more comfortable. In
answer, Saphira razed a drift with her tail,
clearing it with one powerful
stroke. She swept over the site again to remove the last few inches of
hardened snow. He eyed the exposed dirt with distaste. I can’t walk over
there. You’ll have to help me to it. Her head, larger than his torso,
swung over him and came to rest by his side. He stared at her large, sapphire-colored
eyes and wrapped his hands around one of her ivory spikes. She lifted her
head and slowly dragged him to the bare spot. Gently, gently. Stars
danced in his eyes as he slid over a rock, but he managed to hold on. After
he let go, Saphira rolled on her side, exposing her
warm belly. He huddled against the smooth scales of her underside. Her right
wing extended over him and enclosed him in complete darkness, forming a
living tent. Almost immediately the air began to lose its frigidity. He pulled his arms inside his coat and
tied the empty sleeves around his neck. For the first time he noticed that
hunger gnawed at his stomach. But it did
not distract him from his main worry: Could he get hack to the farm before
the strangers did? And if not, what would happen? Even if I can force
myself to ride Saphira again, it’ll be at least midafternoon before we get back. The strangers could be
there long before that. He closed his eyes and felt a single tear slide
down his face. What have I done? Paolini does a fine job in building suspense, and in
creating people, places and events. Eragon is a fine debut novel, and I look forward to
its sequel, Eldest,
due in late 2005. Steve
Hopkins, November 26, 2004 |
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ã 2004 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the December 2004
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Eragon.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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