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A review by isabellelle
As the Ash Fell by A.J. Powers
1.0
What did I think? The short answer: great potential, but not a good book.
The long answer:
I like the premise of [b:As the Ash Fell|25496372|As the Ash Fell|A.J. Powers|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1430964974s/25496372.jpg|45226915] (young adult siblings attempt to bring up orphaned children in a pre-apocalyptic manner, post-apocalypse). I liked that it challenged me to think about how to write more smoothly (not like this book). And I was intrigued by who the author ([a:A.J. Powers|13889942|A.J. Powers|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1431090585p2/13889942.jpg] ) was, and how that came out in his story.
There are two types of problems with this book.
The first category is “small problems,” which includes misuse of punctuation, misspellings, and general poor editing.
If you’re the type of reader who is distracted by grammatical, spelling, and proofreading errors, don’t buy this book. The small problems of the book can be blamed on a lack of writing skills and editing. (I don’t blame his wife, by the way – but Powers probably should have had more than two others edit as well.) I think Powers could benefit from the advice that I give all my students: PROOFREAD. No, seriously. PROOFREAD. That would make the book a lot easier to read, right off the bat. Secondly, learn how to use semi-colons; remember that both clauses should be sentences in their own right.
The second type of problem is more general, and includes narrative issues and pitfalls to which amateur writers are often vulnerable.
For instance, Powers uses an omnipotent narrator – which is not a problem in and of itself, but is not used properly in this instance. If the narrator knows what the protagonist is thinking, fine, but it’s disorienting to suddenly find yourself reading the intimate and unexpressed thoughts of a character that you just met. I have a habit of asking myself which characters are expositional – in As the Ash Fell, it is all of them.
As I continued reading, I found that the old chestnut “Show, don’t tell,” is particularly applicable in the case of this book. Like many of my students, Powers tends to “show” a little bit, and then repeats himself by “telling.” (“Oh yeah!” Charlie squealed, letting the kid in him slip through his mature façade. Powers, 94.) In that instance, it should be clear to the reader that the squeal is a triumph of immaturity over maturity. To Mr. Powers and those who feel compelled to write like this: trust your readers. We’ve been following the story. We know that Charlie is only thirteen, and that he’s trying to act like a grown-up. The adjective “squealed” shows us exactly what’s going on. In some instances, however, Powers skips the “show” and goes straight to the “tell.” (She wrinkled her brows as she carefully studied the contents inside. “That!” she said excitedly and pointed to the toy. Powers, 147.) The problem with this is that the action and the dialogue adjective are contradictory; it would be less confusing to write “Her little face was scrunched up in confusion, but as soon as she saw the toy, she exclaimed, “That!” This conveys all of the same information, but without using words that have more mature connotations (“carefully studied” and “brows,” for example, are usually not words that can un-ironically describe two-year olds).
This will be a controversial statement: Narrative conventions are used for a reason. The most applicable, in this case, are the general standards for foreshadowing. Generally, when characters walk into a house and something feels wrong (even more wrong than an abandoned neighborhood in the aftermath of the apocalypse), it is customary for something bad to happen. What usually doesn’t happen is . . . nothing. If they spend a peaceful night and leave in the morning without seeing anyone, without being followed, etc, the reader will assume that the author is indulging in some self-deprecating meta-humor. Without a punchline, this is just confusing.
Finally, the characters are not well-defined. Half-way through the book, all we know about Megan is that she gets shin splints, recently cut her hair, and has first-aid knowledge. Powers could probably benefit from using character profile sheets, which ask questions about the character’s superficial and more significant traits. It’s not necessary to use all of this information in the story; in fact, most successful writers give only a fraction of the information to their readers. But for this book, I got the impression that Powers has no sense of Megan (or any of the other characters) as a real person. What would her life have been like if the apocalypse hadn’t happened? What recurring dreams does she have? What is her worst nightmare? This tendency towards simplicity means that Powers’ characters are two-dimensional, and that’s really not what I want to read.
There are other aspects of the book that I won’t call “problems,” because they’re not objectively wrong, at least not to everyone. I understand that Powers is a conservative Christian and that his characters are held to the same moral standards. However, Powers does not live in the same world as Clay and the other characters. Powers’ morals (and, by extension, those of Clay) are black and white; I’m not convinced that the world (especially Clay’s world) allows for black and white. Powers is attempting to address serious issues – and kudos to him for doing so – such as prostitution, abusive relations, slavery of various types, and the sacrifices of parenthood. But Powers has, in my view, oversimplified these issues. He has taken an important question and given it a right answer. In my experience, important questions rarely have “right” answers – wrong answers, maybe, but there is no universal moral code. How far should a parent go to make sure his or her child survives? In terms of human nature and natural selection, that is the primary goal of all parents: to make sure the child survives to maturity so that the species can continue. So what should a parent do if he has to contravene other morals in order to fulfill this higher imperative? If a mother has to resort to prostitution to feed her daughter, is that wrong? Personally, I don’t think it is. What about forcing a daughter to similarly prostitute herself, if it feeds and shelters the daughter? That’s a morally grey area, at least to me. As far as I can tell, Powers would prefer the daughter to die in a pure state. But the mother may not see it that way. This is all the more confusing given Clay’s willingness to kill other humans in order to protect his family. To me, killing others is worse than selling your body – it certainly has more potential for damage – and should be treated with just as much gravitas as the issue of prostitution. I don’t know, I’m not a parent and never intend to be. All I’m trying to say is that black and white morals may not work in a world where personal and filial survival is constantly at stake. To be fair, the summary of the book hints at Powers’ understanding of this: “for Clay Whitaker there is always more at stake than mere survival.” I originally took this to mean that Clay’s concern was not solely for himself, but for his family. After reading the book, it seems that by “more,” Powers meant “morals,” or “doing the right thing.” Should that be a priority, in a world where one is constantly required to choose between protecting one’s family and doing what’s “right?” If so, how can Powers suggest that ending another human’s life is right, no matter the circumstances? I suspect that Powers has his own exceptions to the Commandment “you shall not murder.” But the fact of the matter is that Clay should not be making the decision to end anyone’s life, yet he is forced to do so. Kill the other man, or kill the children. Any action he takes will result in death. When this is the case, black and white moral standards cease to exist.
Among these issues, I was turned off by the conspiracy-theorist-esque suggestions that things would have been better if the government had not banned certain types of firearms. To me, this sounded like a paranoid man writing about what would happen if his beloved NRA failed to protect semi-automatic weapons. Similarly, there is an inherent distrust of government agencies (such as FEMA) which, although they may be ineffectual at times, are usually too disorganized to be evil. I’d be bothered by the lack of strong women characters – ones who can do more than cook and become damsels in distress – if there were any strong male characters. Seeing as there is a lack of either, I will concede that this is a purely hypothetical problem, and leave it at that.
No author is perfect, but after reading this novel, I believe that Powers has a long way to go before his writing can become successful. He has good ideas; now, he must discard the “fluff” that goes along with those concepts. There’s a solid premise in this story, but it is damaged by poor writing skills, poor editing, and extraneous theories. Perhaps Powers should consider leaving some of his own baggage behind when writing fiction.
The long answer:
I like the premise of [b:As the Ash Fell|25496372|As the Ash Fell|A.J. Powers|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1430964974s/25496372.jpg|45226915] (young adult siblings attempt to bring up orphaned children in a pre-apocalyptic manner, post-apocalypse). I liked that it challenged me to think about how to write more smoothly (not like this book). And I was intrigued by who the author ([a:A.J. Powers|13889942|A.J. Powers|https://d.gr-assets.com/authors/1431090585p2/13889942.jpg] ) was, and how that came out in his story.
There are two types of problems with this book.
The first category is “small problems,” which includes misuse of punctuation, misspellings, and general poor editing.
If you’re the type of reader who is distracted by grammatical, spelling, and proofreading errors, don’t buy this book. The small problems of the book can be blamed on a lack of writing skills and editing. (I don’t blame his wife, by the way – but Powers probably should have had more than two others edit as well.) I think Powers could benefit from the advice that I give all my students: PROOFREAD. No, seriously. PROOFREAD. That would make the book a lot easier to read, right off the bat. Secondly, learn how to use semi-colons; remember that both clauses should be sentences in their own right.
The second type of problem is more general, and includes narrative issues and pitfalls to which amateur writers are often vulnerable.
For instance, Powers uses an omnipotent narrator – which is not a problem in and of itself, but is not used properly in this instance. If the narrator knows what the protagonist is thinking, fine, but it’s disorienting to suddenly find yourself reading the intimate and unexpressed thoughts of a character that you just met. I have a habit of asking myself which characters are expositional – in As the Ash Fell, it is all of them.
As I continued reading, I found that the old chestnut “Show, don’t tell,” is particularly applicable in the case of this book. Like many of my students, Powers tends to “show” a little bit, and then repeats himself by “telling.” (“Oh yeah!” Charlie squealed, letting the kid in him slip through his mature façade. Powers, 94.) In that instance, it should be clear to the reader that the squeal is a triumph of immaturity over maturity. To Mr. Powers and those who feel compelled to write like this: trust your readers. We’ve been following the story. We know that Charlie is only thirteen, and that he’s trying to act like a grown-up. The adjective “squealed” shows us exactly what’s going on. In some instances, however, Powers skips the “show” and goes straight to the “tell.” (She wrinkled her brows as she carefully studied the contents inside. “That!” she said excitedly and pointed to the toy. Powers, 147.) The problem with this is that the action and the dialogue adjective are contradictory; it would be less confusing to write “Her little face was scrunched up in confusion, but as soon as she saw the toy, she exclaimed, “That!” This conveys all of the same information, but without using words that have more mature connotations (“carefully studied” and “brows,” for example, are usually not words that can un-ironically describe two-year olds).
This will be a controversial statement: Narrative conventions are used for a reason. The most applicable, in this case, are the general standards for foreshadowing. Generally, when characters walk into a house and something feels wrong (even more wrong than an abandoned neighborhood in the aftermath of the apocalypse), it is customary for something bad to happen. What usually doesn’t happen is . . . nothing. If they spend a peaceful night and leave in the morning without seeing anyone, without being followed, etc, the reader will assume that the author is indulging in some self-deprecating meta-humor. Without a punchline, this is just confusing.
Finally, the characters are not well-defined. Half-way through the book, all we know about Megan is that she gets shin splints, recently cut her hair, and has first-aid knowledge. Powers could probably benefit from using character profile sheets, which ask questions about the character’s superficial and more significant traits. It’s not necessary to use all of this information in the story; in fact, most successful writers give only a fraction of the information to their readers. But for this book, I got the impression that Powers has no sense of Megan (or any of the other characters) as a real person. What would her life have been like if the apocalypse hadn’t happened? What recurring dreams does she have? What is her worst nightmare? This tendency towards simplicity means that Powers’ characters are two-dimensional, and that’s really not what I want to read.
There are other aspects of the book that I won’t call “problems,” because they’re not objectively wrong, at least not to everyone. I understand that Powers is a conservative Christian and that his characters are held to the same moral standards. However, Powers does not live in the same world as Clay and the other characters. Powers’ morals (and, by extension, those of Clay) are black and white; I’m not convinced that the world (especially Clay’s world) allows for black and white. Powers is attempting to address serious issues – and kudos to him for doing so – such as prostitution, abusive relations, slavery of various types, and the sacrifices of parenthood. But Powers has, in my view, oversimplified these issues. He has taken an important question and given it a right answer. In my experience, important questions rarely have “right” answers – wrong answers, maybe, but there is no universal moral code. How far should a parent go to make sure his or her child survives? In terms of human nature and natural selection, that is the primary goal of all parents: to make sure the child survives to maturity so that the species can continue. So what should a parent do if he has to contravene other morals in order to fulfill this higher imperative? If a mother has to resort to prostitution to feed her daughter, is that wrong? Personally, I don’t think it is. What about forcing a daughter to similarly prostitute herself, if it feeds and shelters the daughter? That’s a morally grey area, at least to me. As far as I can tell, Powers would prefer the daughter to die in a pure state. But the mother may not see it that way. This is all the more confusing given Clay’s willingness to kill other humans in order to protect his family. To me, killing others is worse than selling your body – it certainly has more potential for damage – and should be treated with just as much gravitas as the issue of prostitution. I don’t know, I’m not a parent and never intend to be. All I’m trying to say is that black and white morals may not work in a world where personal and filial survival is constantly at stake. To be fair, the summary of the book hints at Powers’ understanding of this: “for Clay Whitaker there is always more at stake than mere survival.” I originally took this to mean that Clay’s concern was not solely for himself, but for his family. After reading the book, it seems that by “more,” Powers meant “morals,” or “doing the right thing.” Should that be a priority, in a world where one is constantly required to choose between protecting one’s family and doing what’s “right?” If so, how can Powers suggest that ending another human’s life is right, no matter the circumstances? I suspect that Powers has his own exceptions to the Commandment “you shall not murder.” But the fact of the matter is that Clay should not be making the decision to end anyone’s life, yet he is forced to do so. Kill the other man, or kill the children. Any action he takes will result in death. When this is the case, black and white moral standards cease to exist.
Among these issues, I was turned off by the conspiracy-theorist-esque suggestions that things would have been better if the government had not banned certain types of firearms. To me, this sounded like a paranoid man writing about what would happen if his beloved NRA failed to protect semi-automatic weapons. Similarly, there is an inherent distrust of government agencies (such as FEMA) which, although they may be ineffectual at times, are usually too disorganized to be evil. I’d be bothered by the lack of strong women characters – ones who can do more than cook and become damsels in distress – if there were any strong male characters. Seeing as there is a lack of either, I will concede that this is a purely hypothetical problem, and leave it at that.
No author is perfect, but after reading this novel, I believe that Powers has a long way to go before his writing can become successful. He has good ideas; now, he must discard the “fluff” that goes along with those concepts. There’s a solid premise in this story, but it is damaged by poor writing skills, poor editing, and extraneous theories. Perhaps Powers should consider leaving some of his own baggage behind when writing fiction.