Hello everyone! I *think* I read the postings okay, and I'm pretty sure this is the spot to put up a 200 word opening to my novel (still a WIP). If I'm wrong, please let me know and I'll ax this post! And I'm pretty sure it's contemporary fiction. It's a lot easier for me to call this literary fiction or political satire. I *think* it fits best in this sub-forum.
Let me know what you think! Feel free to come at me with everything/anything you've got. I've been critiquing and critiqued for a long time, and there's only been one critique in my life that was totally worthless. (That makes the score 100s to 1). That one was such a bizarre story I tell it a lot.
Thanks much!

Dead Souls II: An American Poem
By Matthew Keefer

“Whither, then, are you speeding, O Russian of mine? Whither? Answer me!”

A Note from the Author to the Original Author to the Reader

Countrymen! Lend me your eyes: here before you lies my little novel, based on the original written by fellow other-countryman Gogol. If you espy a passage that sounds unbelievable, or extraordinary, or not of this realm, your vision does not deceive you, for this is a work of life, less of art, and the realm of life is full of the fantastical, moreso than the bland. Should you spy a weak passage, know that, too, is no ocular deception, but rather the limits of my powers of eloquence and general cleverness. So, do be generous with my weaknesses, as we all have faults, mine perhaps more extraordinary than most.

My fellow other-countryman had intended his masterwork of the same title in three parts; know this, then, that I am lucky to end the second part. I pray we have world enough and time for the next author to pick up from where I left off, but I, and perhaps many of us, have our doubts as to the longevity of our time on this fair planet. Unlike my fellow other-countryman, I decided to immortalize this work in electronic verse rather than in flames and embers, the first of my mistakes. Nor will that be the last of an unending train of errors. But we shall go upon this course together, perhaps the rockiness will make it endearing to us, for love lies in the errors, none of the perfections. I can say more of the errors in regard to this continuation of ashes from a hundred fifty years prior, but I feel obligated to mention that an editor can only do so much.

[There's more, another 300 words]