Today I'm going to look at the start of a real novel to see if it is good or bad. It goes like this:
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
This is the start of Herman Melville's 'Moby-Dick.' The ridiculous hyphen apart, generations of writers and critics have waxed orgasmically about this opening and Melville's authority and 'voice.' But, in truth, the passage stinks.
It's sloppy and lazy, and makes Ishmael look like a flake who floats from one whim to another - and someone you don't care for very much. Not what an author needs. Oh yes - Melville goes into great detail later on about the anatomy of the whale only to call it a fish - what a plank!
He fails to put the situation in context, in scene, and to show proper reasons for Ishmael's departure - you wouldn't go to sea on a whim in the nineteenth century.
How about this instead:
I dropped my bag on the harbourside and took a last look at the grey, prospectless town that had given me only intermittent work, shoddy accommodation, and that unfaithful bitch in my bed.
'Hey, Ishmael! You comin' or what?'
I turned to see the first mate waving to me, the ship rigged and ready, and behind it a brightening horizon. I picked up my things and almost ran up the gangplank.
Okay, so I've just made this up and it's not exactly deathless prose, but I hope you get the idea. The character doesn't have to name himself, the passage shows his state of mind, and compares the new and the bright with the grey and the despised. It shows both problem and goal in a way the other version doesn't.
Next time: more openings.
Jack Orchison
May 3, 2014.
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