Trail of Lightning

 

Rebecca Roanhorse starts Trail of Lightning with a five-word sentence. That's short and fast. She also uses one word that, by itself, creates tension: "monster." So right off the start, we are rolling into the story and engaged with what happens next. 

How about the other words here? "The" suggests this monster is the only or most consequential one in the area. "Has" is present tense, which brings the story into the moment. Look at the difference a single letter makes between these two versions: "The monster has been here." "The monster had been here." "Has" is closer and more urgent. Also, because most of the stories we see in the present tense are also told by "I" – that is, in first person – "has" suggests that the narrator will be telling this tale directly. "Been" is neutral. Like all forms of the verb to be, it links other words with minimal shading of its own. The monster did not stand or rest or shred or kill or act in any more distinct way here. It existed here – which is worrisome enough. Finally, "here" is another word that brings the action of the story close to us. In this location, where we are, there was recently a monster. The monster might not have gone very far. 

A first sentence with tension or suspense is a hook. "The monster has been here" is definitely a hook. A first sentence can also be a promise – a sentence that creates an expectation about a story that the rest of the book needs to fulfill. With the word "monster" and the implied narrator, we have two characters. Monsters are usually villains and protagonists who tell their own stories are usually heroes. A villain plus a hero sets up a conflict. So this sentence suggests that the narrator and the monster will eventually face each other and fight. That is a promise. 

The word "monster" also suggests the genre of the story. Monsters appear in fantasy and horror, and can only belong to realistic fiction as metaphors. This sentence is blunt and straight-forward. There's nothing to suggest that this is a figurative monster. While the monster could still turn out to be, for example, an abusive father, an author who wanted to use "monster" in that way would usually give a clue in voice or other details. Instead, Roanhorse has surrounded the fantastic detail with ordinary words, a strategy used by authors like Stephen King to add reality to supernatural situations. 

I've read and enjoyed the entire book. The monster is literal and powerful. 

Could any five words have this much impact? No. I make a habit of choosing the first sentences that interest me. Only a tiny percentage of books start with a sentence that hold my interest enough for me to write about them, and very few of those are this short. Rebecca Roanhorse has written an excellent hook and promise. 

Solar Flares

 

Linda Hogan is an award-winning author, the recipient of a Guggenheim fellowship, and currently the Chickasaw Nation's author in residence. When I look for first sentences, following the tracks of others' respect often leads to interesting choices. I haven't yet read any of her books, so I am coming to this sentence as someone first opening the book might. 

That's not to say I am coming to the sentence with no preconceptions! In September of 2019, I marched, and "I hear the voice of my great-grandmother" was a line in one of our chants. Even though Hogan's sentence dates from 1995, I'm meeting it now, so I hear it flavored with the joint action and care for the world I associated with the march. 

This is the fate of anyone who speaks a language. Every sentence carries echoes of similar sentences, of how the words have been used before, and who has used them. If it were not so, the words wouldn't carry meaning from one person to another. 

Within the sentence itself, we have two characters: "I" and "my great-grandmother, Agnes." There's no particular conflict. The only verb, "hear" is neutral, nor are voices or great-grandmothers particularly threatening. Perhaps we'd feel a shiver if this seemed to be a ghost story, but there are no words to suggest a worrying or uncanny situation. "Hear" may simply refer to remembering. 

The most precise word is the name "Agnes." Agnes is a name once more popular than it is now. It seems a match to a great-grandmother. 

The most unusual part of the sentence is its location in time. "Hear" is in present tense. "Sometimes now" is complex. "Now" means currently, and often implies a very short period. "Sometimes" means only off and on, which requires a longer period so that the hearing has time to both happen and not happen. Together, "sometimes now" seems to mean in the current period but not before ("now") I intermittently ("sometimes") hear my great-grandmother's voice. The narrator uses two words to define the time, yet each of them has loose boundaries. The result is a slippery sense of when the sentence is happening – "now" but extending some amount into the past, "now" but maybe not this precise moment, only "sometimes."

"Great-grandmother" extends the timeline into the past. A great-grandmother must have existed well before her great-grandchild. The voice of the great-grandmother comes from the past, into the present, blurring the time mark even more. Although "hear" is simple and present, the words "sometimes" and "great-grandmother" stretch the current "now" farther and farther into the past, suspending "now" over a long period, like a vision of eternity. 

Hogan's sentence doesn't describe a danger. Instead, it shows memory and heritage. It promises that the narrator will grapple with the influence of the great-grandmother's voice – an appealing offer to readers who have their own family history to understand.