Don’t gloss by openings, let them draw you in
- Brett Hiner: A Work in Progress
- April 24, 2020
- 899
“In the beginning, after he labored over the heavens and the earth, the light and the dark, the land and the sea and all living things that dwell therein, after he created man and woman and before he rested, I believe God gave us one final gift: lest we forget the divine source of all that beauty, he gave us stories.”
This is the opening line to William Kent Krueger’s book, “This Tender Land,” and until a few days ago, it was my favorite opening line for a novel. It is profound, yet simple, and speaks to the power and necessity for good stories and good storytelling. Before most other things, we were all storytellers, and we find ourselves at a time where escaping into a good story, whether we are telling the story or listening to another, is as essential as ever.
Ever since Mrs. Denholm, my second-grade teacher, read to the class, “‘Where’s Papa going with that ax?’ said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast,” I have paid close attention to the opening lines of poems, books, short stories and plays; my favorites get written down in a notebook in my classroom to be used for writing prompts for students at random points during the school year.
While it is not the intent to see what they might recall from a previously read book, it amazes me how many of them remember the opening lines from books like “The Outsiders.” When I ask students, “Why do you remember that?” it typically boils down to one notion: powerful storytelling.
Nicole Edgerton, a former student and current graduate student at Ohio State, recently shared this line with me: “It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn’t know what I was doing in New York” (“The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath). She went on to tell me she read it during a particularly hard time at the beginning of college, and it made her realize others have felt profoundly sad too, “but thankfully there are always beautiful words to be read. I pick it up every now and again when I need reminded of that.”
Powerful connections.
Dr. Megan Wereley, a New York native and professor at the College of Wooster, shared: “There’s a tree that grows in Brooklyn. Some people call it the Tree of Heaven. No matter where its seed falls, it makes a tree which struggles to reach the sky (“A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” by Betty Smith).
“I vividly recall thinking of the Nolan family as I walked along similar streets (past those cement bound trees) reflecting on the fact that their hardship was often more common than their luck,” Wereley said. “Yet Francie found ways to thrive in the face of adversity. That lesson is a timeless one that takes on deeper meaning with every new situation.”
Powerful reflections.
Wooster’s own Marcy Campbell, author of the 2018 Junior Library Guild Selection, “Adrian Simcox Does NOT Have a Horse,” shared a classic from “Holes” by Louis Sacher: “There is no lake at Camp Green Lake.” When asked about its effectiveness, Campbell said, “What an incredibly efficient sentence to immediately draw a reader in.”
And that is what powerful storytelling does: draw us in and take us into a world bigger than our own, teaching us, scaring us, moving us, allowing us an escape and sometimes even changing lives.
Edgewood Middle School English teacher Catrina Dotson’s favorite opening line is, “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” She recalls this being “the moment” she fell in love with reading. She told me, “Since I grew up to be an English teacher, I’d say that’s a pretty significant moment.”
Life-changing storytelling.
The old adage, “you never get a second chance to make a good first impression,” rings true for the opening lines of books. Many have their favorites. In Don Winslow’s latest book, “Broken,” a book comprised of six novellas, his story, “The San Diego Zoo,” starts this way: “No one knows how the chimp got the revolver.”
I align with Marcy Campbell on this one, in the sense that it was difficult not to finish this novella in one sitting because of its effectiveness drawing in the reader; indeed, I had to find out how the chimp ended up with the revolver. (Side note: I laughed, hard, through the first 15 pages of this novella. “Broken,” in its entirety, is well worth the time.)
Opening moments in books should not be glossed over. They should be savored, like walking into a new house for the first time. We are a bit cautious, skeptical even, but eventually, if we are lucky, we find a place to call home for a spell, at least until the new favorite comes along.
Brett Hiner can be emailed at workinprogressWWN@gmail.com.