It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a writer in possession of a good novel, must be in want of a great opening line.
Sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse, opening lines may determine the fate of our manuscripts. Unfair as it may seem, agents, editors and readers will often decide whether or not to pursue a novel based on one finicky sentence. (No pressure there.)
An editor once told me that the opening of a book must be unique to that particular story. In other words, it shouldn’t be generic or interchangeable. No other novel should be able to start the same way. But let’s look at what else a good opening line should do:
- Hook/intrigue the reader.
- Give us a sample of the writer’s prose.
- Give us an idea of what genre we’re about to read.
For this week, I propose we look at successful openers and understand why they work.
One of the most widely read Latin American authors, Gabriel García Márquez, is a master at creating compelling openers for his complex novels. Let’s take a look at some of them:
On the day they were going to kill him, Santiago Nasar got up at five-thirty in the morning to wait for the boat the bishop was coming on. (Chronicle of a Death Foretold)
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon where his father took him to discover ice. (One Hundred Years of Solitude)
It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love. (Love in the Time of Cholera)
From these short samples, we can assume that:
- These books are not comedy material. In fact, they may likely end in tragedy.
- There will be sense of melancholy and nostalgia throughout the text.
- They all start at a climactic point in the story where reflection may be everything that is left for these characters.
- It may take the entire novel to get to this point and understand the circumstances that led the character to this moment.
- The novel takes place in a Spanish-speaking country.
All this information from just one sentence!
Openers come in all forms: questions, dialogue, statements, descriptions. I’ve compiled a list of my favorites. Some are gripping (the must-continue-reading kind) while others simply intrigued me enough to keep reading (not necessarily finishing the book!)
I WILL NOT.
Drink more than fourteen alcohol units a week.
Smoke.
Waste money on: pasta makers, ice-cream machines or other culinary devices which will never use; books by unreadable literary authors to put impressively on shelves; exotic underwear, since pointless as have no boyfriend.
Behave sluttishly around the house, but instead imagine others are watching.
(Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding)
One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in bed he had been changed into a monstrous verminous bug. (The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka)
"Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast. (Charlotte's Web by E.B. White)
Paris, July 1942. The girl was the first to hear the loud pounding on the door. (Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay.)
In my first memory, I am three years old and I am trying to kill my sister. (My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult)
Paris: September, 1792. A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. (The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy)
She undressed slowly, dreamily, and when she was naked, she selected a bright red negligee to wear so that the blood would not show. (If Tomorrow Comes by Sydney Sheldon.)
A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story. (The Angel’s Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón)
Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know. (The Stranger by Albert Camus)
They had a date at eight every night. If it was raining, if it was snowing; if there was a moon, or if there was none. (Rendezvous in Black by Cornell Woolrich)
The guilt was like a clump of tar in her hair, warm and sticky, impossible to remove. (A Summer Affair by Elin Hilderbrand)
How young we were the day we escaped. (Petals on the Wind by V.C. Andrews)
When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. (The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett)
His mustache was stiffer than ever, so stiff a fly could have stepped out to the end, like a prisoner walking the plank on a pirate ship. Except that flies can’t survive in a cool room at twenty below zero, and neither could the owner of the blond, frozen mustache: Nestor Chaffino, chef and pastry cook, renowned for his masterful way with a chocolate fondant. (Little Indiscretions by Carmen Posadas)
I'd never given much thought to how I would die—though I'd had reason enough in the last few months—but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. (Twilight by Stephenie Meyer)
I'd never given much thought to how I would die—though I'd had reason enough in the last few months—but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. (Twilight by Stephenie Meyer)
Impressed by this quick exchange:
“Sally.”
A mutter.
“Wake up now, Sally.”
A louder mutter: leeme lone.
He shook her harder.
“Wake up. You got to wake up!”
Charlie.
Charlie’s voice. Calling her. For how long?
Sally swam up out of sleep.
First she glanced at the clock on the night table and saw it was quarter past two in the morning. Charlie shouldn’t even be here; he should be on shift. Then she got her first good look at him and something leaped up inside her, some deadly intuition. (The Stand by Stephen King)
By popular demand:
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. (The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger)
The gale tore at him and he felt its bite deep within and he knew that if they did not make landfall in three days they would all be dead. (Shogun by James Clavell)
One of the things I found while doing research for this article is that despite the “It was a dark and stormy night” cliché-alert throughout the internet, writing manuals and conferences, several successful novels start with weather descriptions:
Indian summer is like a woman. Ripe, hotly passionate, but fickle, she comes and goes as she pleases so that one is never sure whether she will come at all, nor for how long she will stay. (Peyton Place by Grace Metalious)
It was bitter cold, the air electric with all that had not happened yet. (A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick)
The snow started to fall several hours before her labor began. A few flakes first, in the dull gray late-afternoon sky, and then wind-driven swirls and eddies around the edges of their wide front porch. (The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards)
The temperature hit ninety degrees the day she arrived. New York was steaming—an angry concrete animal caught unawares in an unseasonable hot spell. (Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann)
The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. (The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane)
Ever noticed how when something dramatic is about to happen in fiction, the weather is either exceptionally hot or exceptionally cold? The ultimate extreme of this “phenomenon” is Camus’s The Stranger. But that is subject for another post. Has any of these openings intrigued you enough to want to read the book? Can you think of other examples you like? In your opinion, what are the essential elements of a good first line? Are you brave enough to share your own with us?





