Answer mine?
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=Aovzff4YlmzBVeNshAZpj9Xsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20091008040241AAsnWSE
References :

EDIT: Well, if you mention that Zephora is named so because of her heritage then there should be no problem
References :

I am thoroughly impressed by your writing. You have an extraordinary lexica for one so young! I actually had to look up "anodyne."

Your prose flows well and carries an intellectual weight.

Indeed, I am astounded by your command of the English language. I cannot really find faults in your grammar. And as aforementioned, your writing flows. Your dialogue is also very believable.

I get a real sense of Zephora’s character through your narration. And you did it in such a way that I inferred most of it–a feat I am endeavoring to accomplish in my own writing. Also, I adore her name!

The only problems I had was when you related the unimportance of her trip to the Polish potato farmer. It may just be me, but that made me pause and think for a while, for I took it quite literally.

The other issue I had was the character’s quip about Japanese people, which I found a tad offensive (I’m not Japanese, but I’m close enough). I understand that it may be the character’s perspective and that Asian tourists are annoying, but perhaps there’s a way to make it more delicate.

In any case, I am thoroughly impressed by your work! I am almost envious of your talent! Please continue! And I hope you become a published writer!

And, if you are so inclined, would you please comment on the first chapter of my fantasy novel?

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AjIJPYCEby3za.p4BKF.VEnsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20091008015818AAQOmFy
References :

Anyway, in spite of the plot, I would just like some constructive feedback on the introduction of my first chapter! The prologue, which I shan’t include, is just basically an acceptance letter to my main character, which gives an intriguing insight into the school.

Anyway, here we go:

"To any normal London citizen, a trip to the Fenchurch Street Railway Station would be considered insignificant. But as a tall, dark-haired girl struggled with her full luggage trolley and tried to take in every detail of her surroundings at the same time, it was with a certain degree of amusement that she reflected on just how far from a ‘normal London citizen’ she really was.
For Zephora Norling, this trip to the railway station was just as much an unimportant excursion as she was an old Polish potato farmer. It was the beginning of a new life.
Having flown in from Australia a mere two weeks earlier – a country that was half-way across the globe and unbeknownst to the extremity of British winters – there had been an initial culture shock. Despite the fact that both England and Australia spoke a similar language, used an analogous political system and even shared a Queen, everything else was completely different. Australia was a harsh, wild land that bore an inexplicable sense of freedom, whereas England seemed to be a relatively anodyne country where the most dangerous wildlife to be encountered was a ruminating cow. And, more importantly, no one seemed to have any idea of what a pair of ‘overalls’ were.
She was slightly overwhelmed by the several strangers who’d approached her in the past fortnight, holding high hopes of hearing an accent to rival Paul Hogan’s. She’d had to politely inform them that she’d grown up in Adelaide, not the rural outback, and their excited expressions had quickly waned upon detecting only a slight lilt in her speech. They all seemed to have placed Australians under the most ridiculous of stereotypes. One flight attendant had even asked her father if he rode a kangaroo to work.
Zephora struggled not to lose control over her trolley as she swerved out of the way of various passersby. The station was incredibly crowded, even for an early Thursday morning. She had yet to grow accustomed to the way England seemed to have such a large number of people crammed into such a small place.
An indignant squawk from somewhere behind brought Zephora to an abrupt stop.
“Mum!” she cried, momentarily abandoning her luggage to help the beset woman up off of the grimy station floor. She’d been bowled over by a crowd of ignorant Japanese tourists who were also quite possibly blind. Zephora resisted the urge to snigger when they were once again the font of an unfortunate blunder a little while away.
“Thank you, dear. Absolute madness, this country,” huffed her mother, dusting herself off once she was in an upright position. “I’ve had my personal space invaded well over my usual limit.”
Leila Norling was of Egyptian heritage and most likely accountable for the majority of Zephora’s exotic features. She had light olive skin, a thick, black bundle of hair and enormous green eyes that were, at that very moment, scanning the crowds of people in search of her husband.
“Rufus!” she called out, her hands swiftly moving to their accustomed place on her hips. She sighed and turned to her daughter. “That man has a penchant for getting himself lost, I’m telling you.”"

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So, pleeease tell me your opinions regarding characterisation, dialogue, vocabulary, descriptions, believability etc. etc.
And if you have any suggestions to substitute for poorly-written sections, please do not hold back !

(If it matters at all, I am currently one month short of 15.)
Thanks for all the answers so far! — Yes, the Polish potato farmer was a quick little insertion that I must agree, doesn’t really work too well. And the whole Japanese tourist thing — I’ve edited it now anyway, to a more fitting occurance

I live in Adelaide, and yes, Zephora is not a common Australian name — But there really are no common Aussie names, taking into account the multiculturalism. I believe I mentioned Zephora’s mother was Egyptian? The name "Zephora" is of Egyptian origin, do you think maybe I should mention that in the description? Like, "Leila Norling was of Egyptian heritage and most likely accountable for the majority of Zephora’s exotic features, as well as her unusual first name."

Thanks so much!