Mysteries Uncovered – Analysis of the Beginning of Rebecca Ross’s Divine Rivals.

Analysis, for those who don’t know, is about making sense of what something is – why it works, or doesn’t. Imagine a Renaissance person (women are part of this Renaissance Analysis Party, too) kicking tires on a 2020 Nissan Altima, wondering if it’s a tank or a small prison or an electrocution device. Then they see it move. Analysis. It’s kind of fun.

Writing begs analysis, too. Especially very bad or very good writing.

Today’s star falls into the very good category: Rebecca Ross’s Divine Rivals.

I’m listening to an EXCELLENT audiobook production with two narrators, both of whom have English accents (which adds to the charm), and right as the second narrator started, I smiled and thought, “The excitement deepens.”

Here’s the premise so far: Our MC (main character) Iris is a journalist at a paper in a big city as her older brother goes off to war far to the west to battle for one god against another god. Iris is also barely making ends meet financially and is in competition with a snotty rival, Roman, for a more permanent journalist position, which would help a great deal with Iris’s expenses.

Then Iris, in a moment of despair, decides to write a very raw and vulnerable, an angry letter to her brother, and without any way of getting it to him (he’s been gone for five months and has never been able to write or give an address), she puts the letter under a shared wardrobe closet, where it magically disappears and eventually is answered by someone who says only, “This isn’t Forrest” (Iris’s brother).

What makes this story-start good?

1. VULNERABILITY. That letter to her brother seemed so raw and personal. She says things like “I hate you for leaving me like this,” even though we know she adores her brother – his old trenchcoat, which she wears every day, is one of her favorite possessions.
2. A Great CHARACTER-DRIVEN start, in media res: Where a lot of books struggle is getting started in a way that seems real, interesting, and paced correctly. No one wants an info dump on page 1 or 2, but few will care at serious action if we don’t know who someone is yet… One challenge (and I struggle with this myself) is balancing. I think of good beginnings as a kind of BRAID – a little PLOT/HOOK, a little CHARACTER, a little WORLD, more PLOT, CHARACTER, WORLD, situation, etc, repeat. Rebecca Ross did this well here.
3. MYSTERIES/HOOKS. How are there gods who fight against each other in factions? Where did that come from? (It feels original and fresh.) What does it mean that the rival newspaper’s story about monsters in the war is news to Iris? How will Iris survive?
4. MYSTERY of CHANCE/MAGIC. Why did Iris’s letters magically go to… of all people… ROMAN, her rival, who suddenly is able to see a personal and hurting side of Iris he NEVER would have seen otherwise?
5. CHARACTERS Piercing the Human Veil. I LOVE a story where people behave in certain ways and yet, characters don’t actually understand each other… until they’re able to see beyond what others would want them to see.
   1. Imagine a person you don’t like (feel free to make them a real person or just a character from a novel/movie you like).
   2. Now imagine that person in a pitiable situation they would never want others to know about. A memory from youth where a mother slaps her kid (this character) and says she wishes they had never been born. A tragic car accident. A dad who never showed love to his real estate-obsessed son who may or may not have become a president.
   3. Suddenly, this person who is generally negative, becomes more complex, more understandable. Not BETTER, exactly. A past does not excuse current behavior. BUT with more of a window into why people become who they are, we better understand why WE ARE the way we are.  THIS is a HUGE REASON for fiction existing at all – to make sense of the world we inhabit.
6. MORE WORLDBUILDING: So yes, there are gods in this place that feels like World War Two Era England (no cell phones), but trains are the main form of transportation. BUT THEN, once Roman’s POV begins, he describes the enchanted house he lives in who kept him company much of his life, and made him a warm glass of milk beside a lit candle every night when he was fifteen and lonely. “Of course, the house would not only seek to console him at his lowest but also be fond of mischief.” Personifying a house implies a wealth of other potential – what else could be imbued with sentient magic? What else might this world present to us? And had this house connected our two now main characters, or was some other explanation to present itself? Excitement abounds.

Rebecca Ross uses these hooks well (combined with effective and entertaining writing) in the first four chapters (the first 10% – don’t worry, I hate giving away spoilers from after about 20-25%).

It’s worth a read, and for those who like to make sense, it’s worth some analysis…