by James R. Preston

“A beginning is  the time for the most delicate care that the balances are correct.”

Princess Irulan
The Manual of Mauddib

The Princess had it right, and so did Frank Herbert when he chose her quote to open the magnificent Dune. Welcome to 

Start with a Bang: a Personal Journey through Openings Old and New

First let’s set some limits. I’ll talk about books I like, or know about. Most of the books will be genre fiction or pop lit. We’ll limit ourselves to fiction since writing the opening to A History of Spoon Collecting has a different set of problems. Hmmm. Ok, there’s one book here that I hope is fiction. Stay tuned. 

Does the opening still matter? 

In an age of instant books, digital Samples delivered at the click of a mouse, and the AI’s helpful, “You might also like . . . “ (and don’t you just hate it that the AI is right so often) does anybody stand in a bookstore aisle reading the first page before deciding to buy? I think the answer is contained in the question. You can look at two dozen Samples in the amount of time it takes to walk from Mysteries to Science Fiction. So yes, the first few words are still extremely important. 

“I poured a few drops of an ‘87 Mondavi Chardonnay into her navel and leaned down to slurp it out 

Jennifer’s eyes closed and she purred. “Do you like that?” she breathed. 

“Of course,” I said. “Eighty-seven was an excellent year.”

Lawrence Sanders McNally’s Secret

This opening tells you a lot about the story that follows. It says up front that it’s a lighthearted tale, and that if navel-slurping is not, so to speak, your cup of tea, this one’s not for you. Contrast this with — 

“They found me in the gutter.”

Mickey Spillane, The Girl Hunters 

Ok, here you clearly have a no-holds-barred tough story with Mike Hammer, as tough a protagonist as ever strapped on a 45. 

Both openings tell the prospective reader that it’s a first-person story; both give a pretty good idea of what to expect. 

It hasn’t always been like that. 

“On February 24, 1815, the lookout at Notre-Dame de la Garde signalled the arrival of the three-master Pharaon, coming from Smyrna, Trieste and Naples. As usual, a coastal pilot immediately left the port, sailed hard by the Château d’If, and boarded the ship between the Cap de Morgiou and the island of Riou.

“At once (as was also customary) the terrace of Fort Saint-Jean was thronged with onlookers, because the arrival of a ship is always a great event in Marseille, particularly when the vessel, like the Pharaon, has been built, fitted out and laded in the shipyards of the old port and belongs to an owner from the town.”

Alexandre Dumas The Count of Monte Cristo 1844 — 1846

Times have changed and with them the way writers entice you to read their work. Here Dumas invites you to settle down, perhaps with a glass of wine, because this is going to be a long story, full of rich detail. He’ll get you to the end, but it will take a while, so enjoy the ride.  

“A MAN WITH BINOCULARS. That is how it began: with a man standing by the side of the road, on a crest overlooking a small Arizona town, on a winter night.

Lieutenant Roger Shawn must have found the binoculars difficult. The metal would be cold, and he would be clumsy in his fur parka and heavy gloves. His breath, hissing out into the moonlit air, would have fogged the lenses. He would be forced to pause to wipe them frequently, using a stubby gloved finger.

He could not have known the futility of this action. Binoculars were worthless to see into that town and uncover its secrets. He would have been astonished to learn that the men who finally succeeded used instruments a million times more powerful than binoculars.

There is something sad, foolish, and human in the image of Shawn leaning against a boulder, propping his arms on it, and holding the binoculars to his eyes. Though cumbersome, the binoculars would at least feel comfortable and familiar in his hands. It would be one of the last familiar sensations before his death”

Michael Crichton The Andromeda Strain

All right, confession time. At the outset of this personal trip I said I was limiting my selections to fiction and, while that is true, Andromeda Strain is fiction dressed, at least in the Introduction, in the somewhat stodgy three-piece suit of a government report describing a “five day crisis,” I imagine some readers who picked up the book expecting dashing heroes wielding ray guns as they fought off a bug from outer space were surprised, to say the least. Here Crichton wants to immerse you in what appears to be real science, and much of it is. 

Speaking of characters who would be dead soon . . . . 

“NOVEMBER 14, 01:33 A.M.

THE BRITISH MUSEUM

LONDON, ENGLAND

HARRY MASTERSON would be dead in thirteen minutes.

If he had known this, he would’ve smoked his last cigarette down to the filter. Instead he stamped out the fag after only three drags and waved the cloud from around his face. If he was caught smoking outside the guards’ break room, he would be shit-canned by that bastard Fleming, head of museum security. Harry was already on probation for coming in two hours late for his shift last week.”

James Rollins, Sandstorm

Rollins does several interesting things in this opening. First, he sets the time and place precisely. Second, he introduces a character and at once tells you he’s going to die, so don’t get too attached to him. Viewpoint: omniscient. Tone: pretty serious. You get all of that in less than a minute of reading, and readers who notice such things — like you after reading this essay — will be prepared for Rollins’ breakneck pacing. 

This next one is fiction, I think, or it might be a true account of the wildest trip to Vegas ever, layered with exaggeration. 

“We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I said something like, “I feel a bit lightheaded, maybe you should drive” and all at once the car was surrounded by bats. . .:

Hunter Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Thompson at once tells you this is going to be a wild ride, told from the POV of an unreliable narrator, by his own admission under the influence of a multitude of uppers, downers, screamers, zonkers and you name it.. (I’ve driven that stretch of desert many times and never encountered the bats.) But it grabs the reader because they know there aren’t swarms of bats attacking cars on the highway.

“Even if she hadn’t been the last person to walk through the turnstile at Warren Street tube station, Jack Barker would have noticed the tall, slender woman in the navy blue, thigh-length jacket with a matching pleated skirt short enough to reveal a well-turned ankle. She had what his old mother would have called “bearing.”A way of walking, with her shoulders back and head held high, as she pulled on her black gloves while managing to hold on to a somewhat battered black document case.”

Jacqueline Winspear Maisie Dobbs

“The tavern was awash with blood. Cidra Rainforest saw splashes of crimson everywhere—seeping from a gash in a man’s forehead, staining the front of another’s shirt, trickling from still another’s mouth. Glancing down, she saw that there was even a spatter of blood on the hem of her early-evening surplice robes. To Cidra the delicate yellow-gold fabric spun of the finest crystal moss was not just soiled but frighteningly scarred.

She was surrounded by a scene she had never before experienced, never even been able to imagine, and she found herself incapable of coping with it. It wasn’t just the sight of so much blood that held Cidra immobilized with shock. All around her the vicious fighting continued unabated, even though Cidra knew that by now the combatants must be experiencing unutterable pain. Yet they raged on. The violence of it horrified her.”

“Grunts, obscene oaths, and desperate shouts filled the long, low tavern hall. One man had been knocked unconscious by a deftly swung tankard of Renaissance Rose ale, but no one paused to help him. Rather, everyone was participating in the free-for-all with an air of what Cidra could only describe as lusty enthusiasm. No one was lying in a fetal huddle, whimpering on the edge of insanity, as Cidra would have expected, as indeed she herself would be doing had she not been using every ounce of her disciplined training to control herself. The scene around her was incredible. It was, she thought, just as the novels had described it.

A large, scarred, brutally strong hand clamped around Cidra’s arm, shocking her out of her stupor.”

Jayne Ann Krentz Sweet Starfire

This one’s subtle. At first glance it’s the same old “innocent hottie in a bar fight about to be rescued by the hero,” but look again; Cidra’s reactions are not what the cliche calls for. She’s not afraid. Her only thought is for the pain the combatants must be feeling. Yes, this opening drops you right into the action, but it raises many questions.

Full disclosure: I have not read all of Sweet Starfire; this Jayne Anne Krentz title was suggested by my wife and editor Nancy, but when I read it and gave it some thought I realized it was something special. Starfire is now in my “stack” of books to be read.

And we’ll close with perhaps the greatest opening of them all. 

“Once upon a time . . . .”

Thanks for coming along on this tour of openings, old and new. 

Start by sharing an opening you like and tell us why. Feel free to share the opening to something you have written. Here, I’ll go first. ‘I was folding Kandi’s underwear when the home invasion began.” That’s how I start Pennies For Her Eyes.

I think Princess Irulan would approve your effort to get the balance right at the beginning by this bit of study. Now it’s your turn. 

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About James

James R. Preston is the author of the multiple-award-winning Surf City Mysteries. He is currently at work on the sixth, called Remains To Be Seen. His most recent works are Crashpad and Buzzkill, two historical novellas set in the 1960’s at Cal State Long Beach. Kirkus Reviews called Buzzkill “A historical thriller enriched by characters who sparkle and refuse to be forgotten.” His books are collected as part of the California Detective Fiction collection at the University of California Berkeley. 

Find out more about James at his website.