Before the national Knopf release of “Eragon” in 2003, Christopher Paolini’s family self-published the book in 2002. Paolini, author of the Inheritance Cycle, was 19 then, and began writing the novel and plotting the story’s overall arc when he was 15.
As I pointed out in a previous post, the Inheritance Cycle has been fantastically successful. “Eragon” sold one million copies within six months, a stunning achievement for a young adult novel written by a no-name author. Of course, that no-name author was a young adult himself, making it even more impressive.
I don’t know what you were doing at 15 years of age, but the only thing I remember from that time is being infatuated with my first serious crush. I say infatuated because I didn’t do anything about it. What I should have done, once I turned 16 and could drive, was ask her if she would like to go out to eat with me, because I liked her and that would be an easy and safe first date. I did not do that. I did not even think to do that, for some reason. Teenagers are idiots.
At this same age, Paolini was writing his first epic. Maybe Paolini struggled with interacting with girls like me, but he at least produced a New York Times Bestselling novel and began to embark on his dream career in one swoop of a dragon’s wing.
And it’s that dichotomy that explains “Eragon” so well. Paolini is a supremely talented creator, and his brilliance is easy to see. The book still holds up, its primary achievement creating a captivating narrative whilst also invisibly hoisting an excellent framework for the rest of the series.
But it’s pretty clear this is not written by a veteran author. For one, the book is basically Star Wars.
Don’t believe me?
A young orphan man yearning for adventure unintentionally gains possession of an item that is of extreme importance. After servants from the evil empire kill his family, the young man sets off on a quest with a wise old man who was not what he appeared to be. As the old man trained the young, they were captured by the enemy. The mentor died, leaving the trainee alone. The trainee and an odd friend met along the way, a roguish outlaw, brought the important item to the resistance. While there, the enemy attacked the resistance’s headquarters. When everything was almost lost, a distraction let the young adventurer destroy the cornerstone of the opposition, and the resistance rejoiced.
That’s the backbone of Star Wars. It’s also the backbone of “Eragon.” The plot could not possibly be more derivative.
There’s the dialogue, too. Paolini’s dialogue often reads like someone wrote it for the characters to say, with compound sentences and a constant lack of subtlety. Take a portion of what Brom said shortly before his death:
I am old, Eragon…so old. Though my dragon was killed, my life has been longer than most. You don’t know what it is to reach my age, look back, and realize that you don’t remember much of it; then to look forward and know that many years still lie ahead of you…After all this time I still grieve for my Saphira…and hate Galbatorix from what he tore from me.
(Those ellipses are written into the text; that was a full excerpt directly from the book.)
It’s not terrible by any means! But it doesn’t really read like what someone would say on their deathbed, and the driving point of this whole speech–that he still loved his dragon and hates Galbatorix–is just plopped right there.
Consider a similar (though obviously separate) scene from Harry Potter. Severus Snape is dying, instead of going on a speech of why he felt the way that he did or did what he did, he showed Harry with a memory.
“But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?” “For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!” From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears. “After all this time?” “Always,” said Snape.”
The doe was Lily Potter’s patronus. Snape never stopped loving her. It’s not only an extraordinarily powerful statement, but it’s presented perfectly, with an exactness that Paolini often lacks.
But, still, after reading “Eragon,” I was reminded why I loved it. Eragon and Saphira’s relationship is real and genuine. The world is well-constructed. The pace is quick and the book flows smoothly. Sure, it was written by a teenager with no prior writing experience, and it shows. However, creativity knows no age, and “Eragon” is as genuine as it comes.