Hell House by Richard Matheson

December 18, 1970
3:17 P.M.

It had been raining hard since five o'clock that morning.

Scared yet?

Starting a book, a story, a news report, a personal anecdote or even a lie with rain is pointless. Even if the point of your musings was the rain, who would care? Weather like this is small talk, things people say when they have nothing better to say to one another or are trying to get rid of someone by boring them to death. Not the way to begin a story - with mindless drivel or constipated small talk. Yet, there seems to be a built-in automaton in the human psyche that insists most authors start novels with the weather.

I hesitate to make comparisons, but compare Hell House's opening line to the opening of The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson:

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill house, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for 80 years and might for 80 more.  

The rest of the first paragraph of The Haunting of Hill House only adds to the eerie mood and sense of foreboding and is quite creepy. Hell House on the other hand offers nothing. I mention The Haunting of Hill House only because these two books are somewhat archetypes of the genre, companion pieces in the annals of 'haunted house' literature. Their openings, however, are very different, strikingly so. Side by side, Hell House is without doubt an epic fail.

Next line:

Brontean weather, Dr. Barrett thought.

At least this line has something: a setting and a character.

First thing said:

"Doctor."

Verdict: Epic Fail

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht

The Impossible Knife of Memory by Laurie Halse Anderson

It started in detention.

Honestly most readers are more interested in the 'it' than in what is not 'it'. When 'it' started is obviously not as important as what 'it' is. So this is preamble, clearly illustrated with the pronoun rather than with a noun, an event. As this is a novel, presumably with a story, most readers will understand that something will happen, has happened or is happening because that is the nature of what a story is.

Nevertheless, some will think that this is an effective way to begin, because 'it' raises a question: what happened, what is this 'it'? But in point of fact, this is the same question a reader will ask, picking up a novel: What happens? That is to say, this opening line does not raise a question about the plot but about the very nature of storytelling: What's it about? With emphasize on the word it.

Next line:

No surprise there, right?

The reader has no way of answering this question. There is no way to navigate around the pronoun of the first word of this novel. Establishing tone before anything else is almost always guaranteed a fail. Attitude is important, but it is never the story.

What follows is a diatribe on detentions and rules and the authoritarian atmosphere of school. As this is first person, we get inside the character's head, which is nicely done, revealing the angst of the character, but that needs to switch sooner rather than later to the by now infamous 'it' of the opening line, which it does.

First thing said:

"Enough of that."

Well put.

Verdict: Fail

I like the title though, and believe it will attract a lot of attention in the bookstore.

Sincerely,
Rudy Globird

The Bookfair Murders by Anna Porter

Aside from the murder, it was a predictable Bertelsmann party.

This sentence offers up a murder and a party. As a fan of crime fiction, I'm pleased the word "murder" is mentioned early and in the first sentence. Murder mysteries should begin with the crime and the puzzle - preferably in the opening line. However, this sentence also mentions a party, so the rest of the paragraph could go either way: describe the party rather than the murder.

Unfortunately, this opening chooses to go the way of the party, the setting, the exposition and not with the murder, the conflict. Instead of describing the murder scene, the victim etc, the author chooses to stall and go into great detail describing the party, right down to the background music and the people attending the party. A little boring - my attention wanders, which means that what is described is probably important and holds all the clues to the crime, and because readers aren't paying attention will miss everything and fail to solve the crime and be surprised at the end.

Then Margaret Atwood is mentioned as attending the party. Could she be a suspect or even the victim?

First thing said:

"This is my sixteenth Bertelsmann party."

Verdict: Fail

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

Prom Dates from Hell by Rosemary Clement-Moore

As an interactive horror experience, with beasts from Hell, mayhem, gore, and dismemberment, it was an impressive event.

Preamble that's only purpose is to establish tone. No story, just promises of good times to come. This could have been pasted onto the back cover.

Next line:

As a high school prom, however, the evening was marginally less successful.

So with the second sentence we are mercifully provided a little information with which to navigate: setting (high school) and character (teenager). In point of fact, these two sentences are really only exploring the already implied implications of the title. They aren't revealing anything new, only drawing out the perceived awesomeness of the title, and therefore stall in a stew of redundancy.

One might be able to disentangle a little juxtaposition from these two lines with the concepts of hell and high school, therefore making this opening amusing or even downright laugh-out-loud funny, but I don't see much difference between hell and high school and only shudder. Indeed, I fear a new biker (or rollerskating teeny bopper) gang in the making: Hell's Prom Dates.

Then like a lot of preambling beginnings, the cliche within the cliche, we have the line:

I should start at the beginning, but I'm not entirely certain when that is, so...

This type of opening occurs a lot more than it should. A narrator starts preambling, I mean, rambling and then admits they don't know when the story starts or they don't know how to start a story. I groan. The purpose of this ingenious literary technique? I don't know, perhaps to warn the reader that this novel might not be as good as a cover and some hype?

First thing said:

"Hi, Maggie!"

Verdict: Fail

Obviously this book was not written with me in mind, and so I can't help but feel a sense of exclusion and isolation. Is this book bullying me?

Sincerely,
Rudy Globird

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

Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi

Nobody ever warned me about mirrors, so for many years I was fond of them, and believed them to be trustworthy.

This line works because it suggests that mirrors lie, either that, or something is wrong with them, or there is something wrong with the narrator. Either way, this line raises a questions and makes the reader curious  - at least a little. Intriguing might be the right word. So this hooks.

But the key to a great opening isn't only the first line, even though our judgement here at Hook My Brain is based primarily on the opening line. In this novel,  what follows is further explanation of the mirror motif. Overall, the first paragraph holds my attention, as the narrator talks about how he/she stood between mirrors to gaze upon the many "me's".

Unfortunately, by the second paragraph this opening plunges into back story and the paragraphs become long, dense and descriptive as the author loses herself in the writing process. As a writer, I sympathize; as a reader, I cringe. However on the plus side there is some conflict in the back story - back story that goes on and on and on and on, and only ended when my free online sample mercifully ended.

First thing said (in a back story scene):

"Can't afford it."

Verdict: Pass (barely)

The opening line and paragraph are worth at least that, and there are no obvious cliches so that is worth something.

Sincerely,
Rudy Globird