[500] Nosecone Jones, nocturne

I loved this. It's a compelling portrait of a pilot, Jones, who shares his emotional state with a random bartender the night before his death. He begins by commenting on the swiftness of life – a cliched observation, but not inappropriate given his implied awareness of his impending demise. But by the end of their brief conversation, Jones, both by his flowery language and balance of stoicism and melancholy, is an impressively fleshed-out character that I felt strong sympathy towards.

Jones' visit to the bar is a small event in a larger story that doesn't need to be told. You give us everything we need. We know Jones dreamed of flying and eventually became a pilot. We know his career was fulfilling, that he carried his dream with him on every flight. We know that his dream exerted a hold over him that he's only now becoming aware of. And finally, we know that his dream is over, that he's surrendering it on the eve of his final flight.

We don't know why he knows he's going to die, or even if he knows. The bartender insists that he does, and seeing as first-person narrators are generally purveyors of truth, it's probable that Jones has a sixth-sense. As well, Jones' comment on the passing scenery of life sounds very much like something one would say at their life's end.

But what I find most interesting is the implied recent shift in technological eras and how it offers another explanation for Jones' sorrow. Jones is to be a pilot on a "crazy rocket ship", the word "crazy" suggesting that the ship is a technological innovation, perhaps one of the first manned rocket ships in history. As such, Jones may be mourning the end of aviation, not the end of his life. He refers to the sky, his place of work, as "azure", not as dark space. Most curiously, when searching for a simile for "soaring back to heaven", he doesn't choose a rocket, which would be the most appropriate comparison. Instead, he chooses a plane.

To me, Jones is expressing the same sentiment as the scene in The Right Stuff where Pancho's, a forgotten monument to test pilots, burns down. His dream was to fly planes, not rockets. But when offered a place in the new age of spaceflight, he accepted it, thereby contributing a chapter to the denouement of aviation. He's giving up on his dream by flying rockets, and fate's cruel mercy is to kill him, sparing him from betraying himself.

Of course, I could be totally off the mark, but the beauty of your story is that Jones' character provides us with a bit of wiggle room. Though your ending is highly suggestive, you don't simplify Jones to the point that only one explanation is possible. Despite his uncommonly literate speech, you imbue Jones with humanity, and humanity is difficult to distill into cut-and-dried motivations and emotions. In fact, starting his dialogue with a well-expressed cliche only serves to ground him further – written characters tend to avoid tropes in conversation, while real people have no issue with them.

I don't have many issues with this story. Your writing is easy to read and engaging. Occasionally, however, you cross the line between clever and corny or say something when nothing would do just fine.

not a soul in it except for myself

Redundant.

the odds of a patron walking in were roughly equal to the chances I’d be appointed ambassador to the Soviet Union

I believe you put this in mostly to give the reader a sense of when the story takes place. It's not bad, just feels a little too light compared to the emotional heaviness of what follows.

Obviously, I knew who he was and he knew that I knew and I knew he knew that—

Excellent way to communicate the narrator's confused wonder. I'm stealing this :)

As he sipped his whiskey again his eyes unfocused, as if he were staring through the wall, into infinity.

You don't need the second comma.

I took it like a precious gem. I carried it with me into every cockpit; I flew with it through every azure sky.

These three sentences are well-written, but if you're going to go with repetitive sentences, you should make the punctuation repetitive as well. Why have a period between sentences 1 and 2, and a semicolon in between 2 and 3? As well, azure is too literary for dialogue. I'd go with good old "blue".

My mind supplied a soundtrack plucked from a dozen prime-time specials and live-coverage news events.

This is an odd inclusion. I assumed throughout that the narrator was listening intently, but him devoting some of his mental resources to "supplying a soundtrack" suggests that he's somewhat distracted. Jones is a celebrity in the narrator's eyes and has chosen to share his true inner state with the narrator. As such, I think the narrator should be hanging on to Jones' every word. He shouldn't be reflecting on the meta-situation (which he already did when wondering if his wife would believe him) so much as he should be immersed in the situation itself.

As well, the narrator mentally treating their interaction like a TV special feels cruel to me. Jones may be famous, but he chooses to drop celebrity aloofness and confide in the narrator. His words are solemn, his outlook bleak. You'd think the narrator would have the sense to respect that and treat Jones, to the best of his ability, as his fellow man.

It's not a huge deal. Just feels out of place.

At least I got to share a moment with him, before it ended.

This last sentence freaks me out. Despite the story being entirely about Jones, the narrator takes the concluding sentence, the sentence the reader is left with, and uses it to say, "I mean, at least I got to chill with him." Something about the narrator ending with the spotlight on himself seems strangely callous, like he's secretly proud of the fact that he got to meet a celebrity. Like something on r/tifu, it's a flex disguised as a shitty situation.

It's entirely possible that you meant there to be an insurmountable barrier between Jones and the narrator. This would explain the narrator's "soundtrack" comment – he is unable to consider Jones as just another person. Despite Jones pouring his heart out to him and the narrator coming out of it convinced that Jones knew he was going to die, the narrator still couldn't help but view Jones as a celebrity and their meeting as a cool story to tell his wife.

If your story is a commentary on how fame separates people, then I think you might want to make it a little more clear. If it's not, you should probably get rid of that last line.

Conclusion

Overall, this was top-notch, probably the best thing I've read on here in a while. I wasn't even planning on doing a full critique (although this is much less a critique than it is a puff piece), but I figured you deserved it. Excellent work.

Won't make an actual critic. I got only praises.

Again, it was a very smooth read. The action was easy to follow, the opening scene was great, I was totally immersed and with the protagonist, in his shoes, behind the counter at the dead hour of his shift. Loved that image.

Not much else I can say beside: -the dialogue was smooth and efficient. I was on the edge of my seat, anticipating on whatever Nosecone Jones would say, trying to graso every word and impression of him before he'd disappear (so part1 builds that nicely) -the setting was great: again, I felt I was there, my senses were very engaged -about the bartender: very engaging, I have no doubt what he feels or wants through the text, I get why he's conflicted at the end too.

Thanks for the read!

I was curious to see where you’d take the story after the first part, so thanks for the quick upload. Just some quick points.

1. This was written well, no complaints from me on that front. That said, I felt the prose was a bit more daring in the first part. I missed that reading this.

2. You called both parts an experiment, so I’m going to assume that you’re not (yet) terribly concerned with the overall structure once all the parts are put together. Anyway, as is, the 1:1 ratio between the two parts makes the story part way too short.

3. I really liked the last line from the first part (“the enduring image of the burning parachute”?). That seems to go against how NJ is portrayed here as being accepting (or even welcoming) of his fate. Parachute deployment = will to live, but I don’t get that from what NJ says here.

4. NJ walking into a small, deserted bar shows that he wants to do something down-to-earth before he leaves the world. I think a nice touch would’ve been to show him make a personal connection with the bartender. Maybe when the bartender gives him a drink on the house’

“Thank you. What’s your name, son?”

“Walter, sir.” I could barely hear that myself.

“I knew a Walter once. A hell of a guy, he was.”

He drank in silence for a while. My mind supplied a soundtrack plucked from a dozen prime-time specials and live-coverage news events. Finally, he looked up.

“My moment is gone, Walter.

5. You pretty much start the story with a close POV of the MC when NJ walks into the bar, with the line “Obviously, I knew who he was and he knew that I knew...” The line does a good job of showing the MC’s thought process as it’s happening. I don’t think we get that kind of a close-up again. I wish we did. It would be a good way to show how the MC was changed by the encounter.

6. Continuing from the last point, the bartender doesn’t seem changed by this once in a lifetime event. If you got to have a one on one chat with a living legend, wouldn’t that inspire you to do something? Or maybe your world view changes. Anyway, I feel like there should be something to that effect.

7. Also related to the same point: the bartender seems pretty passive. I understand that he’s awestruck. But if I were him, I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from asking The One Burning Question I’ve Had Ask These Years, or asking for The One Insight That Would Solve All My Problems. Maybe this could go right after NJ gets up to leave.

NJ walks into this nondescript bar, alone. He downs three whiskey cocktails in what seems like mere minutes. He seems to miss his youth, although he presumably achieved everything he set out to achieve when he was young.

All this is new to the bartender, right? Does that underscore or undermine his beliefs about NJ? Either way, what question might he ask? And how would the answer change his perception of NJ (and by extension the world that worships him)?

Also, everyone has problems. The first part established that NJ has attained a mythical status. I don’t often pray, but if NJ walked into my bar (I wish I had one), I’d definitely have my WWJD moment. Even better, I can just get the answer straight from the horse’s mouth...!

Just an example:

a) Problem: the bartender had a bad fight with his wife. That’s why the bar feels so empty (not just literally, but also emotionally). You don’t need to spell out all this stuff, just drop in a line or two.

e.g.

The dead hour of eleven had begun. After Annie stormed out earlier, the place was empty—not a soul to commiserate with.

“Annie” is just a random name for the MC’s wife (like how I’m just randomly calling the MC “Walter”). Sorry, it’s just easier to show my points that way.

b) Question: the bartender wonders how nice it’d be if everyone loved him, like what NJ must’ve had all his career. How nice it would be if he never has to doubt that she loves him?

e.g.

”Must be nice that everyone loves you, Mr. Jones,” I said. “I’ve always looked up to you. I just wanted to let you know.”

c) Answer: something that imparts wisdom to the MC, which brings about some changes in MC or his life.

e.g.

NJ looked at me for a moment, raising an eyebrow. Then his face broke into his signature smile. “You know, Walter, I’d trade all that in a heartbeat.” He pointed at a picture on the counter wall. It was from my 20th anniversary with Annie. “To be with someone you love is a special thing.”

d) Result: NJ walked out of the bar. The MC calls his wife. This phone call now has an additional significance of being a sign of healing of the relationship between the MC and his wife, in addition to being a natural action to include in the story, i.e. calling someone after something big happens.

Alright, I’m going to stop here. I realize that I may have suggested a bunch of things that you were trying to avoid on purpose (including details about the MC’s life), and a bunch of things that go against what you were trying to achieve (simple, cleanly-written story). Sorry again about the random character names, they just made it easier to write the examples. Lastly, whether you liked any of my ideas or not, I hope they show that your story has a lot of potential to reach deeper, emotionally (or even thematically)... if that’s a direction you’re considering.

Anyway, as I already said, a very nicely written piece overall. Thanks for sharing!

Edit: some minor corrections

Unfortunately I don't have time for a more substantive post right now, but I agree this is good. Short and sweet, with a great melancholy feel to it. Since you said you weren't going to write any more parts to this, I think you could make it a strong short story by blending in some of the bits from the first part. As is they don't really mesh together very well, but I think they could fit into the narration here with some light edits.

I've no real complaints about this, just nit-picks. It's mechanically sound, and has a tight voicing that feels both consistent and entirely functional. Going beyond the 'does it work' writing checklist and into real positives, I'll say that I very much liked the way you handled character actions and interactions. Seamless transitions and movements like yours show a comfort in the medium that a lot of writers here on RDR lack, which isn't really news to me seeing as I've read a good amount of your work over the last few years (fuck I'm getting old). I'm not going to whip out my usual fullly formated critique style for this response, because truthfully I've not much to say. Write something worse and I'll send you an essay ;)

I'll say that I enjoyed this second part much more than the first. It feels like a more authentic account account that reads with a fluid feel, whilst the first leaned more towards blocks of exposition and description. But, seeing as this critique is about the second extract, we'll move on. Out of this differing level of enjoyment, I can draw out the positive that the scene typically flows together quite nicely. I'd reject one of the google-doc comment's suggestion to move the opening line to "When the door opened...", because I feel like the introductory paragraph neatly sets the scene without meditating too long on trivialities. The more subdued tone the introductory paragraph establishes is useful, and I think the comment's suggestion would be too abrupt.

I'd suggest taking the opportunity to characterize the bar and its potentially its tender slightly more, though I appreciate that the detached approach you've taken is to keep the spotlight on Mr. Nosecone Jones himself, which it does. What kind of bar are we in? As is I've just slotted in one of the many nondescript places I've visited in my life. Even a few words of guidance would give me as a reader a bit more confidence that I'm heading in the right direction. It's not huge problem, but I'm sure there's space to slip something in if you're inclined. It works as is, but I'm identifying potential for more.

The only significant critique I'd lay on this piece is that Mr. Jones's dialogue could use some touching up. I was tempted to call all of the dialogue somewhat unnatural and stiff, but decided that the continuity and tightness of the style you use makes it plausibly justifiable. So then, we end up with my original statement, that Mr. Jones's dialogue strikes me as more odd than you're trying to make it. The surreality of the situation means that quote on quote 'odd' dialogue fits the bill well enough, but Mr. Jones leans too deeply into metaphor for my liking. The monologue starting with "I craved for a moment..." strikes me as the primary offender. The 'precious gem' metaphor fell a bit flat for me, for one thing. My eyes kind of skimmed over it as my brain went: "right, youth, precious gem, cool", rather than engaging with the intrinsically human property you're trying to pull out with this particular metaphor. So, seeing as it fell flat, and how it was surrounded by other dense, highly descriptive poetic writing (like the excessive description of the 'azure' sky), it became almost comic. Now, I work as a bartender when my studies allow, so I couldn't help but think of a guy coming in when I'm about to close, and starting to monologue about gems and cockpits and youth. It’s comical, particularly when the men is taking himself as seriously as Mr. Jones is, and uses excessively poetic language. Obviously this is a personal scenario and likely wouldn't happen to a different reader, but the metaphor falling flat very well could. I'd suggest rethinking it and seeing what you come up with. There's plenty of potential for youth metaphors.

To follow this up, the lines "I opened the canopy around my heart and set it free. It's soaring back to heaven now." suffer from similar problems to what I've just described. I don't feel anything from this metaphor. The image of a heart flitting off into the azure sky up to heaven doesn't provoke me to pathos, it just makes me scratch my head a little bit. The primary functions of metaphors (in an aesthetic sense, not epistemological) are to either evoke sensation, and/or to provide imagery / description through allusion. The actual 'doings' and construction of metaphorical language are more intricate and layered and have their own aesthetics, but these two aims are typically in mind when we go about shaping them into our writing. The 'canopy opening and setting my heart free to soar up to heaven' doesn't tick these boxes for me, and also feels somewhat comic in that a 'soaring heart' is a common and tired expression, so you run the risk of perceived triteness if the reader makes the connection. My being forced to go into literary theory shows just how nit-picky this concern is, but the core of my argument here is that I think there's better alternatives here that'll do what you want in a more pleasing way. I mean, the sky's [heaven's] the limit with metaphors over youth and the liberation of the spirit.

That’ll do, I reckon. It’s a good piece, with a lot to like about it. I enjoyed it, and all of this is nit-picky as fuck.

A shorty, and an enjoyable one.

Nosecone Jones, nocturne, appears to belong to a series of short stories. Nocturne is told from the point of view of an unnamed bartender. Who is he is unimportant, he has a wife, and that's all we need to know. The true protagonist is Nosecone Jones, a pilot who has seen his youth be gone, and perishes on a last fly after his encounter with the bartender.

A short story requires a short critique, due to Nosecone being a fascinating character, but lacking in terms of character development. He was defeated, and knew of his fate, or so thinks the bartender. Frankly, md, I don't know what to tell you. You're well aware of the saying "omit needless words", and you have followed that advice quite well.

The only opinion I can give is that Nosecone is a peculiar name. I thought it was a funny one, because "nose"-cone, so he possibly had an enormous nose. Just kidding. I'm sorry.

Regarding the text: I'll admit I'm not fond of " Obviously, I knew who he was and he knew that I knew and I knew that he knew—", this is one of those tricky sentences funny to write, but seems wacky for this somber story, and doesn't fit the tone.

"Not Telling" argued that you revealing the fate of Nosecone Jones cheapens the story. I disagree, I feel the man accepting his demise is more powerful than him coming as a spirit to walk through the living plane. The man knew his time was coming, and wanted to tell the truth to someone he could trust: a random stranger.

I'll check the following stories, quite interested in knowing more of Mr. Jones.