“The Binding” is grimdark fantasy about a clan of giants who are attacked by an army of humans. Like a homework assignment scratched out last minute, the style Gwynne deploys can be described as spilling, loose, slapdash. For the first few days of tape and wire, the plot has an arc, there are primary characters, conflict occurs, and dialogue and exposition link the pieces together. But once that fix starts to give out, it noticeably fails semantically.
The following is a smattering of samples from the story. Perhaps you too will see why it screams Human slop. We'll start simple and work our way up.
Raina cried out and turned, axes swinging and a half-severed arm spun through the air.
Half-severed? That must mean the body is still attached, yes? Of course Gwynne intended arm sans body. Arms go spinning through the air, not half-severed arms. Tell me you imagined something different.
A warm up lap, that is just a hint of the marathon to come.
Alcyon growled, deep in his chest, and burst into motion, sword swinging high over his head and looping down, hacking into the waist of a man on the steps before him.
Was that the result you expected? Starting high, looping down, but hitting the waist? I would have assumed shoulder or head or arm—the things that normally get in the way of a vertical attack... But let's get to the bigger issue, the run-on sentence. It's a sentence that does something, then does something else, returns to doing, doing more, and doing more. Two sentences were needed for stronger impact: “Alcyon growled deep in his chest and burst into motion. He swung the sword in a wide arc, hacking into the waist of the man on the steps before him.” This approach has greater impact because it coalesces the emotion, then isolates the action. Gwynne's sentence is just a chain of stuff. You could add or delete one of the middle clauses to minimal difference. Compare for yourself.
Let's see what happens next in this paragraph:
It cut deep, through leather and flesh into bone. The man screamed, sagging, blood bubbling on his lips and he dropped to the stairs, dragging Alcyon’s blade with him. The giant put a boot on the man’s body, wrenched his sword free and leaped over the dying man, swung his sword again, and again, roaring as he went, carving a bloody path down the stairs, Raina a half-step behind him.
Why the “he” in “he dropped to the stairs? The sentence's subject (“The man”) is already established. Like the seventh AI guitar string, it's unnecessary. Moving on, there is a semiotic problem with “dragging Alcyon's blade with him”. The “dragging with” hints that Alcyon was forced to let go of the blade, but in the next sentence we learn he did not; rather, he “wrenched his sword free”. It would have been better to write “...pulling on Alcyon's blade...” as it does not imply loss of control. And lastly, we see another run-on sentence “The giant...” Does something, does something else, does several other things, does more things, then somebody else does something. It's a lot of doing. Two sentences are again needed to put emphasis where it best fits. Otherwise, it's just a another chain of events—and then, and then, and then, and then, and then... zzzzzz
Let's see what's in the next paragraph.
Halfway down the stairwell and it was clogged by the dead, Alcyon stabbing and slicing, his great-sword swinging in great looping arcs. Behind him he heard Raina snarling, heard the sound of her axes whistling through air, blades chopping into meat, heard the screams of her foes
The issue here is switching perspectives. The first clause puts the reader in Alcyon's shoes as he descends the stairs and encounters corpses. The second part of the sentence, however, takes the reader out of Alcyon's shoes and puts them into the shoes of a third-person observer watching Alcyon wreak havoc. Perspective then switches again, back into Alcyon's shoes as he listens to Raina. It causes temporary reader confusion. For no reason, they have to spend an extra second or two to orient themselves rather than enjoy the story. And while we're here, why repeat that Raina is behind Alcyon? The previous paragraph already positioned Raina. We know where she is in imaginative space. Why say it again?
The following is a superb example of sloppy writing.
A figure loomed out of the shadows, a giant, and Temür emerged from the swirling mist and smoke, Sarnai and Gerel with him. All of them had followed Alcyon to Forn, raiding the Hunen and Alcyon knew their worth in battle. Blood and bone dripped from the war-hammer in Temür’s fists, the axes of Sarnai and Gerel both blooded.
In
the first sentence we have two things emerging from two different
mediums (a figure from shadows and Temür with companions from
swirling mist and smoke). The reader asks: where am I in this scene?
And then, things get more confusing. The latter's emergence comes
freighted with extraneous info about events at other times and other
places—raiding, old wars, etc. And finally, the third sentence
which unnecessarily repeats the word “blood” as well as the two
secondary characters' names. Untidy, yes, but still doesn't compare
to the way “both blooded” makes the clause truly awkward. The
whole paragraph is difficult to read in rhythm.
Middle
of the marathon, it's natural we let the
run-ooooooooooooooooooooooons continue in this, one of the opening
paragraphs to the whole story.
Alcyon strode through the long grass, the wind a sigh across his skin, welcoming him home. Behind him his warriors followed in a ragged column, over a score of giantsing both male and female, all battle-hard, their blades freshly blooded.
What
purpose does “Behind
him”
have in the second sentence? Remove it and tell me the sentence
sounds worse. You can't. Also, notice the incongruity. The sighing
wind, the welcome home, the ragged column—these aspects give the
feeling that arriving home has been a long time coming. But somehow
their blades are freshly blooded... Cracked, dried blood on the
blades would have been more appropriate, no?
And still more
unrefined writing as that paragraph continues.
Many bore fresh-stitched scars, but they all wore new tattoos of thorn and vine added to their arms, the record of their kills. Absently Alcyon scratched at the scabbing tattoos upon his own arm as he gazed into the distance and saw a thin line of smoke rising into the searing blue of a cloudless sky.
Instead of “added to their arms”, why not just “on their arms”? Simpler, more efficient, clearer visualization Using “added to” only raises questions. Also, why repeat “tattoo”? Why not explore the wonders of the English thesaurus, for example “...scratched at the scabbing ink on his own arm...”. And lastly, isn't it inherent that a searing blue sky has no clouds? Why add “cloudless”?
And still more unawareness-ness...
“Are you well, husband?” Raina said to him as she strode up from the rear of the column, all muscle and leather and thick furs, two axes slung across her back, her hair cut like all of them, a thick strip upon her shaved head knotted like rope.
Why “said to him”, why not just “said”? “Husband” is in the dialogue, no need to repeat who. And why “strode up from the rear of the column”? Such language signifies where she was, not where she is. “Raina said as she strode to the front of the column” accomplishes the same but keeps the reader in the present.
Finally, our last example, another awkward moment of switching perspective mid-sentence:
She looked at him, her face pale, a place of sharp angles and deep shadows, beautiful as the fairest sunset to him, where day and night mingled to make something else, and she reached out with a muscled arm and brushed his hand with her fingertips, a frown creasing heavy brows above dark eyes.
Who is frowning? Unknown. Flip a coin. That is how messed up perspective is.
Reflecting on the story, Gwynne seems to have sat down to a keyboard and let it rip for a couple hours, then typed “THE END” without looking back. Sold me books before, it will sell me books again. And he's absolutely right. The expectations of the average reader these days are not as equipped as a those of a generation or two ago to critique poor diction. Readers just read. Story is story. Who cares about that stuff? Technique is unimportant—the same way, I would argue, we are being desensitized to the quality of content through the vagaries of AI slop.
“The Binding” is not terrible writing, it's sloppy writing. It's inefficient, challenging to read in flow, occasionally repetitive, occasionally redundant, and often enough lacking awareness of perspective. Run-on sentences, ambiguity, repetition, etc. can be effective tools in the hands of a good writer. But I assume prompting AI to use said tricks to write a story would produce more readable, more coherent sentences than Gwynne's. Giants, fighting, swords, blood, human slop.
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