Slaughtermatic by Steve Aylett

Beerlight was a blown circuit, where to kill a man was less a murder than a mannerism.

This is a prologue of sorts. I say of sorts because there isn't really a plot to this page of two paragraphs. It's more reminiscent of the intro to Star Wars with backstory rolling off into the cosmos. In this case, this bit of text introduces the story's setting.

It's pretty cool with lots of ideas: bulletproof babies, bomb zombies, pincushions of snipers, and crime as the new art form. It sounds like a warning of what's to come, preparing the reader for a gluttony of violence. So if you read on and are disturbed by what you're reading and wish you never picked this book up, you have only yourself to blame.

Chapter 1

Dante Cubit pushed into the bank, thinking about A.A. Milne.

I like the name of the character. It's cool when characters are given names that probably no one in the world has. This opening line needs the next to be effective, or perhaps the second needs the first to be effective or perhaps they're just well woven like good writing is supposed to be.

The next line:

Why didn't he ever write Now We Are Dead?

So this character goes into a bank armed to the nips with a view of robbing it. So even though there's the gun cliche, it isn't what you think: there are no Glocks or chicks.

First thing said:

"Hands up, granddad, and no sudden moves--it's a money or your life paradigm."

Dialogue that moves plot forward and reveals something of character. The implication being that because Dante doesn't necessarily want to kill the old guy, he's a good guy doing bad things (bad things in our world, but not necessarily in his). Plus, let's face it, the guy sounds smarter than your average Walmart shopper. Even with the great strides TV shows like The Big Bang Theory has made to increase the average shopper's vocabulary, most people, I suspect, do not comfortably know what paradigm means or how to pronounce it. Here's an idea: pa-ra-dig-em may or may not be right. And certainly the average shopper wouldn't use the word in their day-to-day affairs, like when they go into a bank with nefarious intent. If I were ever held at gunpoint, it would set my mind at ease if the gunman used the word paradigm.

Overall, this opening pulls readers in even if this is not a favorite genre.

That's no small feat.

Verdict: 3.5 Stars (Definite Pass)

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

1984 by George Orwell

It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. 

I've already this novel numerous times, so to review this we have to break our rule of not having read the book before reviewing it. It's doubly hard because this is one of my favorite novels and my opinion of the hook will be biased.

But let's try to look at this as if we have no idea what this book is about, as if it were new and no one had heard anything about it.  Right out of the gate, the title is misleading. Of course we know this was published in 1949 so 1984 was the future then and up until 1984 people would have had an inkling that this was some kind of futuristic book, with some fantasy, perhaps a cautionary tale - and they would have figured that out just from the title. Now anyone who picks this up might think it's an historical novel, assuming they ignore the blurb. The point being the title was destined to lose it's effectiveness at some point in time. Even if it was called 2084 or 2184, time is ticking. Let's say I wrote a novel called 1972. What would be your conclusion as to its premise? Wrong! It's about flesh-eating aliens who process humans into cosmic coke in a parallel universe not unlike Berlin in the 1920's. Get it? 1927 backwards, so there! The lesson here? None really, or maybe choose a title that will remain effective - forever.

Now, to the first line.

Beginning with setting is not a really good idea, unless you begin like 1984. Standard setting is usually boring, but setting that is weird or makes you ask, "what the--?" hooks. The line is striking and immediately reveals  that something is not right about the world of this novel. It is vital to reveal this early in a dystopian novel. The next sentence we meet the protagonist dealing with bad weather as a little more dismal setting is revealed.

Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him. 

Then the next paragraph:

The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. It was part of the economy drive in preparation for Hate Week. 

More tantalizing tidbits of the dystopian setting are revealed with the introduction of Hate Week.

First thing said:

'Oh, comrade,' she began in a dreary, whining sort of voice, 'I thought I heard you come in.'

Verdict: Pass

Overall, there are better opening lines than this, despite its fame. It is the fact it focuses on setting rather than character and conflict in a scene that lowers the rating. However, in a dystopian novel beginning with setting is acceptable, as the setting is very much an antagonizing force. As well, it establishes the dismal mood that is carried throughout the novel. In any case, the opening couple pages are well done and pull readers in right away.

This is part of the series: the top 100 novels from Daniel S. Burt's book called Novel 100, the top 100 novels of all time. There is debate of course as to what should be on that list, but his opinions are as good as any. 1984 is the 86th greatest novel of all time.

Sincerely,

Theodore Moracht

The Uglies by Scott Westerfeld

New Pretty Town

The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit.

This is sort of about weather, but presents it in an interesting and more creative way. However, unless cat vomit sky color is the conflict that moves this story forward to a satisfying conclusion, it isn't the best beginning as it is ultimately setting. Stories should start with conflict and character, not setting. Though this could be an example of pathetic fallacy, therefore revealing some character.

The vomit weather theme is continued:

Of course, Tally thought, you’d have to feed your cat only salmon-flavored cat food for a while, to get the pinks right. The scudding clouds did look a bit fishy, rippled into scales by a high-altitude wind. As the light faded, deep blue gaps of night peered through like an upside-down ocean, bottomless and cold.

So the weather is explored. For some reason the author thinks that his novel needs to begin with a weather report. Whatever. It continues (since I read it, you have to, too):

Any other summer, a sunset like this would have been beautiful. But nothing had been beautiful since Peris turned pretty. Losing your best friend sucks, even if it’s only for three months and two days.

So here we have an inkling of conflict with a glimmer of the dystopian premise.

First thing said:

“Good night.”

Verdict: Pass (barely)

This gets a 50/50 meh for the striking opening line.

Sincerely,

Theodore Moracht

Wool by Hugh Howey

The children were playing while Holston climbed to his death; he could hear them squealing as only happy children do.

Juxtaposition. Happy children and death. Another odd thing about this line is that a man is climbing to his death and not, as is usually common, falling to his death.

The opening starts to drag though, as this man ever so slowly climbs the stairs, with plenty of description of the railing, and of his boots among other things. Finally, we get back story and by this point I'm ready to climb up those stairs and push Holston off myself, if the author doesn't feel bothered.

Nevertheless, the opening line is effective.

First thing said:

"Well, look who's up early."

Verdict: Pass

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

Allegiant by Veronica Roth

I pace our cell in Erudite headquarters, her words echoing in my mind: My name will be Edith Prior, and there is much I am happy to forget.

The problem with series books today is that a reader has to buy them all and read them in order in order to enjoy the later volumes. Most readers are fine with this, and even prefer it this way. But there is something to be said with letting later volumes in a series stand on their own, at least in the beginning. This one barely succeeds.

What is an Erudite headquarters? One can assume that this is some kind of fantasy book (and no, I don't live in a complete bubble). We have a character in prison, which by itself is not interesting, but the fact that this character is making up a name, or at least that's what's implied leads to a question. The end part: ...there is much I am happy to forget, suggests a preamble, but it is only a whiff of one.

What follows is dialogue and a scene with little back story. This allows a forward narrative to unfold without needing much knowledge of what happened in the books before.

First thing said:

"So you've never seen her before?"

Verdict: Pass (barely)

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

2103 (Act 1) by Drew Avera

The view from the heavens must have been a sight to behold.

Instead of saying what that view is right out of the gate, we are instead treated to preamble and a circumstance simmering with lofty sentiment. This is pure exposition, but to its credit, it doesn't last long before a horrific scene of a massacre unfolds.

Next line:

Tiny, microbiological organisms, every last one of them destined for death and to be picked apart piece by piece.

For some readers this short build-up to conflict creates suspense, but I like my suspense to be the result of raising action oozing conflict, and not mere suggestion of it with epic sounding sentences that in all honesty can be skipped. The opening paragraphs, though well written, reek of the sentimental and melodramatic. However, as this is written in first person, I have come to expect such things.

First thing said:

"Another massacre, another dollar."

This opening dialogue is effective, as it reveals character, plot and conflict. To be perfectly frank, this is where the story starts - the beginning of the fourth paragraph.

Verdict: Pass (barely)

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness

The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don't got nothing much to say.

Another great opening line. A situation that is obviously out of the ordinary but also reveals something extraordinary. The bad grammar is a little disconcerting because I I don't much like the realism of dialect in stories. It's distracting and annoying. Reading Huck Finn was enough for me.

Next line and first thing said:

"Need a poo, Todd."
"Shut up, Manchee,"
"Poo. Poo, Todd."
"I said shut it."

This little conversation between a boy and his dog seems so ordinary at first glance, it's amusing. After this attention grabbing opening the story settles into ordinary standard storytelling and my attention starts to wane. Nevertheless, I plod on for another page to find the scene and conflict between the boy and dog hooks me back again.

Verdict: Pass

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

We slept in what had once been the gymnasium.

So begins a classic dystopian novel. The rest of the first paragraph is mostly description threaded together with conspicuous vocabulary (an Atwood trademark) like: palimpsest, forlorn, powdering, etc. There is not much else to say about this opening line. A slightly unusual situation is introduced - sleeping in a gym, and this raises the question why, but it's not like I'm burning to know, because it's not that unusual.

By paragraph 2 we get inside the head of the narrator and into the emotions of the dystopian world while at the same time the sexual element of the novel is introduced. But I'm not sure if the prose is trying to draw me into the story or lull me to sleep.

Chapter 2 begins with less promise:

A chair, a table, a lamp.

Lots of description and so moody. Moody beginnings turn some people on, but not me. I need more. That's right, I'm one of those needy readers who annoys writers with high expectations and a list of demands. I need to be manipulated, stimulated, titillated, entertained, informed, shocked, educated, horrified and hooked by the end of page one.

Only at the end of chapter 2, which does not bode well, do we get any dialogue.

"Tell them fresh, for the eggs."

Happy birthday, m'lady.

Verdict: Pass (barely)

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

World War Z by Max Brooks

It goes by many names: “The Crisis,” “The Dark Years,” “The Walking Plague,” as well as newer and more “hip” titles such as “World War Z” or “Z War One.”

This begins the introduction. The next section, I assume is chapter one and begins like this:

GREATER CHONGQING, THE UNITED FEDERATION OF CHINA
[At its prewar height, this region boasted a population of over thirty-five million people. Now, there are barely fifty thousand...

The first outbreak I saw was in a remote village that officially had no name.

So, what we have here is a nonfiction feel to fiction; apparently, to make the story world feel more authentic  But as it sounds like a textbook, I'm losing interest, and am getting nasty high school flashbacks.

Unfortunately, with that nonfiction feel, comes an opening that is all telling, which most creative writing experts will tell you is a bad thing to do and a leading excuse for literary agents or editors to reject material by just doing a quick scan of submitted work.They love it - no need to read anything, and it saves lots of time. Plus, they get to say, "Hey, this tells and doesn't show!" So they get to sound like experts when they reject, should they even take the time.

However, with this story, I can't see it any other way - it needs to begin with telling. Just like Catcher in the Rye (though, for different reasons) and other genres where premise is a primary conflict as in dystopian. Certain genres (and first person narratives) sometimes work best with telling to start things off, and some stories are just meant to be that way. This is one. Plus, this telling reveals the narrative character.

The only conflict in this beginning is that there is a zombie war, which is conflict of the person vs. society type. For some, that's more than enough. However, it isn't enough to hook me, as I'm not the zombie type of guy. If it was a world war against a legion of creepy little Asian girls with long black hair hiding their faces all called Samara and Sadako, then I might read on.

In other words, this opening will hook if you're interested in zombies; if not, it offers little else.

First thing said:

"Who?"

Verdict: Pass (barely)

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht