Head & Shoulders used to tell us that, “You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” That’s true for wearing dark shirts, and it’s especially true for books. Sometimes the characters will hook the reader, sometimes the premise, sometimes it’s just knowing the author—but nothing beats a great opening for getting a reader to commit.
So, I’m going to kick off by making one thing very clear: None of this was my fault. I was part of it, sure, but only like a flea is part of a cat. I was carried along, contributing my own pain-in-the-ass factor, no argument there, but I was mot, in any sense, driving the bus. Let’s not forget that when this story starts, was literally on an island in the middle of nowhere. Hands full, head busy, heart well guarded. Safe as houses, baby.
Wait, that’s not completely accurate. The island of Violetta isn’t in the middle of nowhere; it’s slightly to the right of Africa, many hundreds of miles into the Indian Ocean. It’s a geography cal, political and sociological anomaly, It’s also home to a frozwn vodka drink called the Barrier Island, beyond which no man may safely travel, but that’s a sidenote. It lies two days’ sail from a large French-speaking island more than five hundred miles off the east African coast, which is probably why the French didn’t bother to claim it. It was ignored by the Mauritians, because they thought the French already nabbed it, and blithely disregarded by the British, who had no idea who owned it, but had no reason to think was them.
No one paid much attention to it at all until the 1950s, when an enterprising young Violettan by the name of Agnes Bottlebrush did a school project on the even younger United Nations and then quietly applied for membership for Violetta (Agnes was an overachiever with time on her hands). As the result of a series of fortunate and slightly comedic events, Violetta became the smallest member of the United Nations, and Agnes received a rapid promotion to Head Girl. Then she walked around to everyone’s houses and handed them a copy of the UN Charter and gathered suggestions for what to put on the flag.
from Christa Comes Out of Her Shell by Abbi Waxman
I’m not sure what happens over the next 369 pages (in a sense). I just want almost 400 pages like this.
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