Reviewing a creative response for The Lieutenant

Here’s my feedback for this student’s Creative Response SAC on Kate Grenville’s The Lieutenant.

READ THE DRAFTS FIRST BEFORE WATCHING THE VIDEO!

Below are the drafts for a past student’s creative response for Kate Grenville’s The Lieutenant. Read the drafts first before watching the video where I give feedback to both drafts!

Draft one:

From this moment on it seemed like the earth would never be the same again. No star in the sky would never want to be hang in its right place and the sun would never want to reappear and warm the earth. As the wrath of Gilbert was like a dark storm that quickly infiltrated nature’s beauty. The confrontation between Rooke and Gilbert may have brought Rooke peace, but it caused Gilbert to be consumed with rage and fury.

Gilbert was in disbelief that Rooke had the nerve to accuse him of his actions. No one in their right mind would have spoken to him in that way. Rooke was nothing but a traitor. His forbidden relationship with Tagarn only clouded his judgement and caused him to sympathise with the natives. No British solider of Gilbert would ever second guess their duty with their conscience. I bet Rooke’s heart melted into a millions pieces when he first met Tagaran, his easily manipulated heart was the sole reason for this chaotic monstrosity. First he calls me failure and then he accuses me of mistreating the natives. How infuriating! Gilbert’s face was as red as the dust of the earth, as his anger was slowly rising inside of him. The pure stress from this confrontation produced a waterfall of sweat from his furrowed brow.

Draft two:

From this moment on it seemed like the earth would never be the same again. No star in the sky would never want to be hang in its right place and the sun would never want to reappear and warm the earth. The wrath of Gilbert entered his hut, like a dark storm that quickly infiltrated nature’s beauty. Even the birds that surrounded Gilbert’s hut fled as if they knew that a dark curse was slowly brewing. The rattling of cups and pans was the only sound heard from Gilbert’s Hut. He frustratingly rummaged through an old wooden chest looking for the right tea to sooth his anger from the heated night. Once he had decided on his leaves, he strode to his kettle and lit the flame. Gilbert’s eye’s was slowly hypnotised by the beauty and warmth of the flame as it gently swayed back and fro. In the red and yellow hues, Gilbert’s mind wandered to the heated confrontation. The scent of smoke quickly transported him back to Rooke’s harsh remarks.

He could not tolerate such behaviour from the lower ranks. Insubordination. He was in disbelief that Rooke had the audacity to accuse him of malice. No proper subject of the Crown would have spoken to him in such a harsh and vicious way. He was Rooke’s senior and Rooke was out of line for critiquing his plan and his treatment of the prisoners and natives. Rooke’s mind was too naïve, and he didn’t understand the reality of this mission.

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