INCOMPATIBLE ANALYSIS and author babble

You have questions?  Good.  My hope was to inspire some. 

Do you want to ask them?  Excellent!  I would love to answer!

Will I have the answers?  Definitely. 

Will I give you the answer?  Not necessarily.  Keep in mind that if you’re left with questions at the end of a novel, this is a good thing!  And normally this means a sequel is coming… in this particular case that’s because IT IS!

Dear Reader,

Thank you for taking the time to further pursue my novel!  I hope you enjoy reading these discussion questions as much as I enjoyed answering them.  This was written to stimulate your minds and instill within each of you the need to ask more.  Express and reveal the active reader you have inside.  I know it’s there!  It’s in each of us. 

Best,

Chantelle Feasel

the INCOMPATIBLE series

Do you have any other questions?  Contact me!  I would love to hear from you, look forward to getting to know you and can’t wait to respond!

My Blog: http://chantellefeasel.blogspot.com/

Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/incompatiblenovel

I will begin with the prologue of Incompatible, that way each of you knows whether or not you’ve read the novel before delving into the analysis thereof it.  Following that will be the character profiles and discussion questions.  Finally I will sign off with the unedited and completely raw version of the prologue to my untitled sequel!  Hope you enjoy :]

INCOMPATIBLE

PROLOGUE.

Sweat drips down my face and I hear the tearing before I feel it.  My heart is beating out of my chest.  The screaming in my mind finally escapes from my mouth. 

“When will it stop?” I grunt with each breath, having finally burst free from the drug-induced haze. 

“Almost done,” the doctor next to me says.  “You’re strong.  It’ll be over in no time.”

“The head’s through.  Shoulders next.” The voice of the second doctor sounds.  He has disappeared entirely from view; obscured by the gown draped across my outstretched, bent legs. 

“This is the final difficult part, continue breathing like we practiced.” 

I pace my breathing and focus on what I hope are the final pushes. 

“She’s out!” the second doctor says as the pressure vanishes and the involuntary spasms cease.  He hastily wraps her in a blanket.  I catch only a flash of startling dark green eyes and bright red hair before she disappears into the folds of the sheet.   

The doctor rushes through the doors, out into the cleaning room that sits next door.  I hear her wailing for only a moment.  Her muffled screams of life come to an abrupt halt as the door slams shut behind him.

I don’t give myself a chance to catch my breath.  “How is she?” I wheeze, looking to the doctor next to me for confirmation.  

“I don’t know,” the doctor replies sternly.  Her look has changed from encouragement to the stony expression most wear in my presence now-a-days.  The pregnancy was not what everyone disapproved of; many become pregnant during trials as they often bring together compatible couples.  The fact that my baby was the product of an incredibly incompatible match was inexcusable.  

She begins fiddling with the gadgets attached to my bed.  I watch as a slightly yellow liquid flows through the tubes leading to my arm.  A warming sensation runs through the spot at which the IV is nuzzled under my skin, then spreads to the rest of my body, delivering what can only be some type of pain reliever.  A strong one at that.  Even before the tube empties I can feel the effects of the medicine, a numbness spreading through me.  The medicine doesn’t dull my mind any further, or the pain in my heart. 

“The well-being of the child is not of your concern.” She continues as her fingers glide over buttons nonchalantly. “You were aware that children who are the product of incompatible individuals are unacceptable.  Not only have you brought harm upon your reputation, but this child will forever suffer because of its deformities.  Incompatibility is not some silly joke.  It protects future generations from abnormalities and deficiencies.”

I look up at her, a defiant expression crossing my face.  I knew this already, I had been hearing it for the past six months.   What I didn’t understand was how one poor decision in my previous nineteen years of life could label me entirely unfit for motherhood. 

“I want to see my daughter.” I reply, reciprocating her stern expression.  I move my arms behind me to prop myself up. She turns to watch my movements but does nothing to stop me.   “I get it, I screwed up.  The damage to my reputation has been sufficient punishment, and the father of my child abandoned me.  Isn’t that enough?”  I am fully upright now; my eyes even with hers.  I lean forward, inching my nose to within a few centimeters of her face.  I hope my words sting her the way hers had stung me, no matter how inaccurate some of mine may be.  “Bring me my daughter. 

“Must I repeat myself young lady?  The child is no longer your concern.  Because of your irresponsible behaviors you will not have access to your child’s information.  Bear in mind that the abnormalities your child suffers leave us no choice but to... relocate it.”  She hesitates before uttering the last words.

“Relocate?!” I yell back.  “Relocate?  What does that even mean?”

She takes a step back, startled at my outburst, and returns her fingers to the dials next to my bed.  Her voice quiets considerably, she seems almost ashamed.  “We’re sending her somewhere else.”

“There is nowhere else!” This didn’t even begin to make sense.  Then I remember.  The orb.  The perfect circle far in the dark, open abyss.  What I viewed only by accident.  The only elsewhere she could be referring to. 

The nursery rhyme my mother taught me floods my mind, the one I recited to my baby girl.  She’s going to the place the poem described.  The orb again pops into my mind's eye.  Maybe I was right.  Maybe they were one in the same.  

Before I can ask, the doctor pushes another button on my bed and this time a cold sensation sweeps through my arm, spreading slowly through my body. 

“Everything will be okay.  Sleep now, you need time to recuperate.”  The coolness reaches my extremities and my fingers begin to tingle.

As my vision starts to blur and my mind fades, the second doctor returns, no longer holding my baby. 

“You actually mentioned relocating to her?” The second doctor asks angrily.

“I’m sorry sir,” she replies.  "She won’t remember when she wakes up.”  Her confidence is only a façade; I can see it in her quivering hands. 

“Fine.” He says, turning to the sink.  He rolls up his sleeves; the water that flows off his hands is red. “That’s your one screw up.  Do it again and I’ll relocate you too.” 

Everything goes black, again.

WARNING: Spoilers Ahead.  If you haven’t finished INCOMPATIBLE I advise you to stop here! 

	Ruby	Xander	Sidian	Jewel
Warmth	95	86	48	70
Reasoning	89	93	57	43
Emotional Stability	79	68	36	55
Dominance	36	70	75	90
Vivacity	25	56	67	89
Rule-Cognizance	45	38	73	21
Openness to modification	85	81	12	48
Abstractness	76	79	20	49
Sensitivity	93	94	42	74
Trepidation	74	18	46	3
Privateness	46	23	53	15
Perfectionism	17	25	93	55
Vigilance	68	64	24	36
Self-Reliance	74	78	56	39
Social Boldness	38	86	78	98
Rigidity	23	31	90	52

CHARACTER profiles

That’s right; each character had planned ratings before the novel was written.  Some scores changed at times as the characters came to life, but overall they remained the same.  These categories and labels were created based off of information I retained from Psychology and Anthropology classes.

I must admit some research was necessary.  I started out with a list of fifty-five different ways to rate personality, what I was left with was a jumbled mess of numbers and information that no one would be able to retain.  A few trips to the San Jose State library and hundreds of google searches later and I was left with this.  I like how it turned out, did you?

CHARACTER introduction: Marcella

I would like to take a moment to introduce you to a new member of the Incompatible series, Marcella.  An excerpt from my blog:

As further proof that a beautiful afterlife must exists, an incredible person passed on this morning.  She is survived by her daughters, grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren.  Living to a ripe age of 101 years, having passed less than one month before her 102^nd birthday, Gramma Sally will be alive in our hearts for years to come.

She lived a full life; to have met over six generations of family members is a miracle very few of us will be privy to in our lifetime.  To have been a part of this magnificent woman’s life is the greatest miracle of all.

Gramma Sally, I dedicate my second novel to you.  In honor of the joy, wisdom and laughter you’ve brought to each of our lives, I give you Marcella, the newest character in the Incompatible series.  Marcella is associated with the sun in this story; I hope she brightens up the tale just as you have brightened up my life. 

DISCUSSION questions

Why are the characters named after naturally-occurring substances that they never come into contact with? 

Honestly, I changed their names a number of times throughout the writing process.  Finally, a theme took evolution and I spent a plane trip to Florida distracting myself from the turbulence by throwing around ideas with my mom and sister.  Later, I was questioned by a beta reader and close friend about it.  The answer I gave her is one I’d like to share with all of my readers:

ahhhh the Jewels and Rubys thing.  So that is kind of a brush on the love for things that are rare and highly desired. Almost all of the names of the characters are in connection to something in nature... why? Because they have no nature to experience. They're things that are forgotten or not seen that have evolved into names alone basically. (Sidian - short for obsidian) (Reed-well, that's self-explanatory) (Iscus - short for hibiscus) (Juniper - again, like Reed) (Rose - ...) so on and so forth... except for Xander.  For some reason he needed to have a different name. And I love that name so much I felt compelled to leave it.  The character was so different and becomes such a crucial person in the story (and in future books [;), it was important for me to establish him as unique.  

She further questioned how the characters came to be named after things in nature if they don’t know what nature is.  I found my response witty and chuckle-worthy, so I will share this as well: 

They're just the normal names now... they represent something from the past but the people don't realize it.  Okay, so names fade in and out of style all the time... if in the future we had all the same names that are popular now then I'd be truly surprised. 

More elaboration is needed.  Each of our names today have some "special meaning" (aka Chantelle means song, I don't know how it does... or why it does... or even wtf that means, I just know it does). It's just become a norm that people accept and expect but don't necessarily understand. Like, hmm let me think of a good example... clothes... WhyTF do we wear clothes?  We are born without them and our earliest ancestors didn't wear them… but they're just accepted and everyone wears them now. LOL strange comparison but it works in my head for some reason. 

Why don’t the characters know ANYTHING?  I feel a lot more could have been explained.

This is one of the fundamental problems associated with a first person novel, especially in this Panoptic society.  Ruby knows absolutely nothing about her life; therefore the reader must share in this naiveté.  Yes, yes, there are a lot of questions (or at least I hope I inspired a lot of questions in your heads [;) The society I created in space, as well as the societies on earth, are all fleshed-out in my mind (I promise, it’s true). 

Incompatible was inspired by my sister who started writing a dystopian novel in hopes of winning some Hunger Games prize back in the day (we’re big fans).  She came up with an idea for a society and we started coming up with some really fascinating conclusions for how it would work.  This society we came up with together (well mostly she came up with) is the society on EARTH, the community that Xander and Ruby will come into contact with once they arrive at the Institute for Intercultural Communication and Panoptacy. 

Ruby so easily got pregnant, isn’t there such a thing as birth control in the future??

In this day and age young adults are expected to pair-off with a compatible mate before the age of twenty-two.  Generally speaking, one does not run the risk of getting involved with someone who they might not have a future with.  Pregnancy is usually the precursor to pairing-off. There’s no need to prevent pregnancy when you should only be having sex with someone you could spend the rest of your life with anyways.  If you’re so close to the pairing-off date as a young adult, then why not wing it?  If you get pregnant, then it’s probably a sign that you should be together.  They’re at that age where it’s just basically accepted: people get pregnant, then they settle down.  It’s just what happens. 

This is one of those questions I would normally leave for later books to answer.  Unfortunately I don’t plan on spending too much more time examining the culture of the shuttle (not in Ruby’s perspective anyways), therefore I’m willing to discuss the reasoning behind it outside of narrative. 

Why is it not made obvious then?  Because your first person narrator doesn’t experience it the way most people would.  Or does she?  She was technically offered the option of pairing off with Sidian when they learned of her pregnancy.  I say technically because she was offered it but that doesn’t mean anyone expected them to accept. 

For brain candy: can you think of anyone who did paired-off in the story?  [;

Incompatibility: What is it?  When does it happen? 

Incompatibility occurs when two people are so distinctly different that their potential offspring is indeterminable.  Even a rough estimation would be a closed-eyes shot in the dark.  Or was it that two people, who are so drastically different from one another, would be incompatible as a couple.  Unhappy and just genuinely unfit to spend their lives together. 

There’s no right answer here either, this is something I will leave to each reader’s imagination.  Certainly it may become clearer in the next novels, but ultimately the decision is yours. 

Why a pairing-off deadline?

First and foremost, control.  No, it wasn’t just to get the story moving along faster.  The pairing-off deadline is crucial to the story, no doubt about it.  Those in control would say it’s essential to grow and learn with your partner and it’s important to bare offspring at a younger age when you are most fertile!  When it’s possible to find someone who is a predetermined good fit for you, then why now settle down as soon as you find them? 

 Again though, is it simply an element of control? 

Do people question it?  Sure.  Not in this tale, no… or not yet at least.  Either way, what better way to keep the people under control than by assigning them some place or someone that they must dedicate their time and life to.  And what better way to enforce this than by informing each person that it’s for their own good?  Hey, who knows, maybe it really is.  Maybe these government and scientist people know what they’re talking about?  Guess you’ll just have to read on to find out… then come to your own conclusions!  There’s no right answer here, I can assure you. 

Panoptacy: Where did this come from? 

The description and details given about Panoptacy are all REAL.  That’s right.  One of the subjects I studied in college was Sociology; there was an entire segment of a class dedicated to reading about the Panopticon, reading of analyses of the Panopticon, how the Panopticon can be related to life today and the monotonous task of personally analyzing it.  Of course, I enjoyed the hell out of this assignment unlike most of my peers.  Then again, when I was assigned 20 page papers, I was the only person to get excited.  If you want to know more, google search it!  It’s all very fascinating, really. 

Who is the leader?  How many people control this government?  Is there a President Snow behind the curtain? 

First of all, The Hunger Games reference was essential.  And yes, I only posted this question so that I could make that reference, because I’m not answering that question!  I can’t give it ALL away.  You’re crazy. 

On to more important things now… like the opening pages of the untitled sequel!  Hope you enjoy :]

untitled sequel to Incompatible

the unedited and completely raw PROLOGUE.

I trudge slowly through the buildup of white ice; wait, there’s a better word for it.  Snow.  Out of frustration I kick a rock that has sprouted through the foot of snow covering the dirt floor.

They first referred to this place as the home planet of the human race.  It’s not, not to me anyways.  How could it be?  Everything is a mystery here.  Things the natives understand so much they don’t even register anymore are new and frightening to me. 

And they said we were smarter.  More adept and genetically superior.  All I’ve come to learn is we know nothing.  Without these savages we would be lost on this planet. 

I cringe at the name they use in reference to the natives only in the safety of our Institution.  Behind the metal walls, lined with barbed wire.

My footsteps have grown heavier since we arrived.  It would make more sense if it was because I’d gained weight.  That’s not the reason.  Everything they’ve crammed into my brain, and everything I’ve experienced on my own, has burdened my mind and heart, added pounds to my existence.   I don’t care if it’s not physically possible, it’s just the only likely explanation I have. 

Water has leaked into my shoes now; my toes are growing cold from the dampness of my socks and chill of the snow. 

I remember the first time I experienced the cold, brought on by the light snow, wind and rain of a storm.  The first one was milder in comparison to those I’d feel later on, but still startling.

…

My pod hit the ground uncoordinatedly.  The door rolled open and a man in strange clothes greeted us.  I couldn’t hear him over the grumbling rolling in from outside.  He held a strange object in his hand that matched the color of his shirt, a deep orange. 

I swiveled my head back and forth searching for something recognizable, found nothing then placed my feet on the ground, ignoring the stranger entirely.  The roaring increased once my head escaped the protection of the pod.  I put my hands over my ears to block out the noise, but the onslaught of new sensations was so overwhelming that this did nothing.

The water was coming from above me, but there was no ceiling or faucet from which it was emerging.  The droplets landed on me, seeping through my clothes to my skin, and completely drenching my hair.  It would have felt like a shower if not for the blistering wind and almost freezing temperature of the water falling from the sky. 

As I looked up to find an explanation for my surroundings, a gust of strong air beat against me; much like the falling water, the gust was cold, like the ice cream we would have during the trial.  I didn’t understand.  Only my drinks and food had ever been this temperature, not everything around me, and definitely not the liquid falling from the shower.

There was nothing above but cold water and gray.  Whatever ceiling existed in this strange place was far away; never had I looked up and not found an end.  A conclusion.  A top. 

“Please get under the umbrella.”  He yelled; his voice was barely audible over the roaring in my ears. 

I pointed above me and cocked my head to the side. 

The man shook his head as if he didn’t understand, then waved his arm, summoning me toward him.  He looked almost as uncomfortable as I felt.  His eyes were stretched wide in fear behind his large wire-framed glasses. 

I felt fingers wrap around my hand and looked to my left.  Xander.  There was something familiar here, well someone.  I clutched his hand, holding tightly to the only thing I understood.  The ends of his lips curved up and he tugged me lightly, moving us in the direction of the weird-looking man.

When we reached him, he placed the strange object into my hand and took a hasty step backward, allowing the falling water to soak through his clothes.  He turned on his heel and marched on without another word. 

He made it to the large gray structure before we even stepped forward.  The contraption in my hand had ensconced me and Xander.  One large center stick, with tiny metal posts spreading out to form a circle.  Above it all sat the unknown, water-resistant fabric, secured to the tendrils creeping out from the stick tightly clasped in my hand. 

Finally, we took slow, tentative steps forward and searched out the strange new landscape.  The structure in front of us was a dull gray, the same color as the sky, with pointed edges and flat walls.  My eyes progressed past it onto a strange silver wall that surrounded us and the structure.  Not solid like the one before us, diamond shapes were cut into; crisscrossing back and forth the metal vines that made up this wall were similar to the ones growing out of the stick in my hand.  Spirals of the same metallic tendrils sat atop it, looking foreboding with pointed spikes emerging at intermittent points.

The man stopped as soon as he reached the solid wall.  Once we made it to his side a quizzical expression crossed his face, as if he were waiting for us to do something. 

“What?”  I yelled, hoping my voice wasn’t drowned out by the heavy winds and water droplets pounding the ground. 

He nodded his head in the direction of the wall and held out his hand, spreading out all five of his fingers.  Using his other hand, he pointed at me, then up to the wall.  Still stretched wide in some combination of awe, fascination and fear, and further magnetized by his spectacles, his eyes were the same gray as the building.

I glanced up to where his finger was pointed and caught sight of the first difference the uniform wall offered: a monitor.  I laughed a sigh of relief; finally something else I recognized and understood.  Smiling at the man, I reached up to the monitor that sat slightly above eye-level and pressed my palm and fingers to the screen. 

The man jumped back as the door rolled up, for some reason startled by the movement of the wall.  I didn’t hesitate and took one giant step forward into the structure, hoping to escape all of the new sensations this place offered.  Xander followed.  Before I could take in my surroundings I heard the door slide shut with finality, sealing us off from the water and cold air. 

I turned around to address the stranger, hoping he might offer some sort of explanation for this new place.  He was gone. 

“Did he stay out there?”  Xander asked, expressing the confusion that had just crossed into my mind. 

I didn’t answer.  Swiveling my head in search of clarification, lights flickered on all around us, bringing to sight the bare white hallway we were standing in.

I smiled to myself; that counted three things that made sense. 

“Home, sweet home.”  Xander cleared his throat then sighed, “I mean trial, sweet trial?” 

…

White.  What a boring, bland, uneventful color.  With so many other choices at your disposal on earth – pinks, blues, greens, yellows, and reds – why was white the most predominant on our space shuttle?  The shades I witness each day on earth are natural, they take seemingly no effort to create, and yet so few of them were available on the shuttle.  What a waste.

The building, we learned, was the Institution we would be attending.  The Institution for Intercultural Communication and Panoptacy.  The structure mirrored life on the shuttle, to make the transition from life on space to life on earth more tolerable. 

Though it was uncomfortable and challenging at first, the world and life outside of the Institution had grown on me.  Xander came to this conclusion before I did.  He wasn’t anywhere near as fearful of the differences as I was; he was the only one who drank in the new environment, wishing desperately to be a part of their society, leaving behind our own entirely.  He had gone native. 

I still can’t make up my mind about it all.  Their foreign beliefs were laughable at times, theories and ideas that even Xander himself would have scoffed at before. 

He’s so frustrating.  How could he even suggest something so stupid?  His priorities are way out of whack.  The ideas he’s started to spout are nothing more than speculation.  What if he’s wrong?  What if his plan leads us to never finding Emerald?  He’s basically forgotten the reason for us coming here so willingly. 

When he first mentioned leaving to go look for her I thought he was kidding.  How could he know that they don’t still have her back on the shuttle?  Or hidden away from the world?  They might not have left her with the Natives, growing among them, living life here like one of them. 

Then today he tells me it’s all ready.  All planned.  We can leave within the hour, begin our life with the natives and search for Emerald.  He doesn’t even care about her; all he cares about is escaping the institution and assimilating with the nearest tribal community.  And they’re Theocratic!  Even worse than our Panoptic government back on the shuttle. 

I was right to yell back. 

I don’t realize I’m stomping through the snow until I sink so far through the fluffy ice that my foot submerges entirely into a muddy puddle. 

“Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.”  I grunt angrily.  Stupid snow.  Stupid Xander.  Stupid me. 

I’ve reached the fence now.  I place my hands on the rungs and wrap my fingers around the cold metal.  It’s strange that I was the one to storm outside after the fight.  Xander’s love for the outdoors and the natives taken into account, I should have been the one to stomp into our room and lock the door behind me, not Xander. 

I lightly tap my forehead to the metallic link fence, close my eyes and take a deep shuttering breath through my nose.  That’s when the smell registers.  Not necessarily a negative scent, but one associated with heat and fire, smoke and natives. 

Their ceremonies never take place so close to our facility.  Something’s wrong. 

I spin around in search of the smell’s origin and shriek in fear as I catch sight of the flames. 

The Institution is on fire.

Xander.  The only thought that passes through my mind.  I sprint forward, cursing myself for having wandered so far from the building.  I don’t stop when I see a herd of figures running out of the gate that sits almost a mile to my left.  They aren’t from the shuttle, they’re natives.  They disappear from view into the brush of the bushes and trees.

I don’t even acknowledge their presence.  My feet pound the earth as I sprint forward.  The shoe on my right food slides off, but I don’t care.  Xander was inside the burning building.  I need to be sure he’s gotten out alive. 

The building is entirely engulfed in the reddish-orange of the flames.  I’m within meters of it when the smoke erases all of my senses. 

“Where’s Xander?”  The sound of a male’s voice fills my ears.  Nevermind, my hearing is intact.  Before relief can flood through me I realize the voice doesn’t belong to Xander. 

I cough and throw my hands to my knees.  I feel palms press against my shoulders and am pushed backwards, moved away from the flames and smoke. 

“Ruby?  Where is he?!” 

The coughing won’t cease.  I can’t breathe.  I can’t communicate that he’s inside.  Xander’s inside the building.

I shake my head to clear it and attempt a deep breath.  The coughing that sputters from my mouth is worse this time. 

“Ruby?!  Where did you see him last?!”  He’s screaming now.  I point to the building and shake my head again.  I use my body to push against his hands, the only attempt I can manage to get toward the burning structure. 

“I’ve got it.”  He replies urgently.  He pushes me down, sending my useless body to the ground. 

“NO!”  The first word I can manage.  All I can do is watch as he sprints away.  I crawl forward, my fingers grasping at the remnants of dead grass buried under the snow.  I feel more hands grip me from behind, clutching at my shoulders and pulling me away from the flames.

The top floor of the building collapses only seconds after his heels disappear into the ashes. 

…

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