A novel is a world. Even when it takes place in current times, in the country where the reader lives, a novel opens a new perspective. For a while, a reader shares a narrator's vision, a narrator's priorities, a narrator's moment-by-moment passage through their experience. The change may be as subtle as moving a camera two inches or as vast as awakening to a pterodactyl's cry.
In either case, the world of the novel is not the world of the reader, until they begin to read. So we readers need a doorway or a bridge to reach the world of a narrator.
I love this opening sentence from R.B. Lemberg. It's not a hook – it doesn't strain with danger. It's not a promise. There's no weight on where the story goes next. The word "alone" suggests that "I" may stop being alone – or may not. The word "in" holds the possibility of "out" but doesn't coerce that next step. There's no giveaway to the genre of the story – an old goatskin tent could be historical or contemporary, realistic or fantastic.
I have a third type of first sentence I consider: the seduction. First sentences are seductions when they promise pleasure. I started looking at this sentence, and I wasn't sure what pleasure it promised. Would I need to make a new category? "I sat alone in my old goatskin tent."
No, as I looked longer, I saw the pleasures here.
First, there's the pleasure of travel. I have never been in an old goatskin tent. Here's a chance to see what that is like. The precise detail – "old goatskin tent" – is rich and concrete. The narrator who sees that detail can bring me to their world well enough for me to see it, too.
Then, there's the pleasure of autonomy. Whoever this narrator is, they have the independence to sit alone in their own tent. This "I" will control their own destiny, at least to that extent. I like spending time with people who make their own choices.
The pleasure of clarity comes next. This sentence has no ambiguous or wasted words.
The last pleasure I'll note is the pleasure of rhythm. I read the sentence with accents on the syllables I'll follow with apostrophes: I sat' alone' in my old' goat'skin' tent'. Would you drop the accent on skin? That creates a very steady rhythm, as "in my" rush together. But "skin" is so visceral, I find myself slowing so I can make the last three syllables all strong, hard raps. Either way, the rhythm adds music to the sentence.
This sentence drew me when I first read it in a sample. This morning, with the whole book in hand, I smiled at the sentence again and read the entire short book before I came to write about it.
Graphic Frame by Ken Silbert
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