Category: Opening Lines Page 1 of 6

Opening Lines: Empowered Witness by Alan D. Strange

We all know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover (yet, publishing companies spend big bucks on cover design/art and we all do judge them that way). But, the opening sentence(s)/paragraph(s) are fair game. So, when I stumble on a good opening (or remember one and pull it off the shelves), I like to throw it up here. There are so few writers that can grab you like Winslow can from the get-go.

from Empowered Witness: Politics, Culture, and the Spiritual Mission of the Church by Alan D. Strange:

The calling, or mission, of the church as the church is to proclaim the gospel to the ends of the earth, not to be another merely (or even chiefly) political, social, or economic institution. The church, in its full-orbed existence, may have political, economic, or social concerns that develop out of its mission, but those aspects are not what primarily mark and define it. Our Lord Jesus Christ, who is head and King of the church, made it clear in his marching orders to the church—what we’ve come to call the Great Commission—that he intended the church to go to every people group (often translated “nations”) and to evangelize and disciple them (Matt. 28:18-20), enfolding them into his kingdom, which is “not of this world” (John 18:36), a kingdom that does not have the transitory but the eternal at its heart (2 Cor. 4:18). It is Christ himself, our heavenly King—since he is with us even now by his Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 15:45)—who gathers and perfects his church (Westminster Confession of Faith 25.3) through the appointed means.

The gospel is not about worldly success in any proper sense, then, but is rather about deliverance from the penalty, power, and ultimately the presence of sin, a message that comes to permeate the whole of the lives of those transformed by it. We can rightly say that the message of the church is a spiritual one, coming to people of every sort in every land to bring them here and hereafter into the spiritual reality of the kingdom of Christ. Therefore, Paul encourages the Christians in Corinth, “In whatever condition each was called, there let him remain with God” (1 Cor. 7:24). Paul makes clear that the bondservant may and should avail himself of the opportunity of freedom (1 Cor. 7:21). He also makes clear, however, that whatever condition one finds himself in, even whether one is married or not, is not paramount: what is most important is not one’s vocation or life circumstance but being called by and coming to Christ, being a new man or woman in Christ. Paul’s concern is that his readers are Christians, whatever else may be true of their lives. His concern for them, to put it another way, is chiefly spiritual.

This is the spiritual message that the church is privileged to herald to the world (salvation by grace alone), the good news—the meaning of gospel—without which there is no good news. The story of the world after Adam’s fall is nothing but bad news since all is sin, darkness, and hopelessness without the good news of the gospel. The gospel of salvation in Christ, however, is the good news that transforms the worst into the best, seen particularly at the cross, where humanity at its worst not only fails to defeat God but where God uses humanity’s attempt to do so as the centerpiece of our salvation. Christ has overcome the world. This is the message that the church joyfully preaches to the world. It does not preach itself, nor does it promote some sort of political, social, economic, or cultural utopia to be achieved in this age.

The church preaches that we are to live in this age not for this age but for the coming age that has broken in on this age and beckons us to a new heavens and a new earth that await all who trust in Christ alone.

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Opening Lines: The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein

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.

I see in Lwnava Pravda that Luna City Council has passed on first reading a bill to examine, license, inspect—and tax—public food vendors operating inside municipal pressure. I see also is to be mass meeting tonight to organize “Sons of Revolution” talk-talk.

My old man taught me two things: “Mind own business” and “Always cut cards.” Politics never tempted me. But on Monday 13 May 2075 I was in computer room of Lunar Authority Complex, visiting with computer boss Mike while other machines whispered among themselves. Mike was not official name; I had nicknamed him for Mycroft Holmes, in a story written by Dr. Watson before he founded IBM. This story character would just sit and think—and that’s what Mike did. Mike was a fair dinkum thinkum, sharpest computer you’ll ever meet.

Not fastest. At Bell Labs, Buenos Aires, down Earthside, they’ve got a thinkum a tenth his size which can answer almost before you ask. But matters whether you get answer in microsecond rather than millisecond as long as correct?

Not that Mike would necessarily give right answer; he wasn’t completely honest.

from The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein
Cover of The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein

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Opening Lines: My Darkest Prayer by S.A. Cosby

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.

I handle the bodies.

That’s what I say when people ask me what I do for a living. I find that gets one of two responses. They drift away to the other side of the room and give me a sideways glance the rest of the night or they let out a nervous laugh and move the conversation in another, less macabre direction. I could always say I work at a funeral home, but where’s the fun in that?

Every once in a while, when I was in the Corps, someone would see me at Starbucks or that modern mecca Walmart in my utility uniform. Sometimes they’d catch me in my dress blues after a military ball just trying to grab something before heading back to the base. ‘They would walk up to me and say, “Thank you for your service.” I’d mumble something like “No, thank you for your support,” or some other pithy rejoinder, and they would wander away with a nice, satisfied look on their faces. Sometimes what I wanted to say was “I took care of the bodies, The bodies with the legs blown off or the hands shredded, The bodies full of ball bearings and nails and whatever tome kid could find to build his IED. I loaded the bodies up and dragged them back to the base, then went back out on another patrol and prayed to a God that seemed to be only half listening that today wasn’t the day that someone would have to take care of my body”

But I don’t think that would have given them the same warm and fuzzy feeling.

from My Darkest Prayer by S.A. Cosby
Cover of My Darkest Prayer by S.A. Cosby
(if you’re feeling pedantic, those are the first paragraphs of Chapter One, not the Prologue)

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Opening Lines: Blind to Midnight by Reed Farrel Coleman

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.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, 11:43 P.M.
He is the last man alive. Or at least, things would be less complicated if he were.

He is standing on the platform at the Smith and Ninth Street subway station. The tallest station in Brooklyn looms over the Gowanus Canal. The canal, so polluted with toxins and heavy metals that you don’t have to be Jesus to walk on its waters. A writer once joked it was the only body of water that was 90 percent guns. Nobody is joking tonight. Nobody! Not about anything.

The lone man is waiting for the G train. He smells the acrid windblown smoke continuing to rise from where the World Trade Center stood. His blue Mets cap is squashed low on his forehead, his eyes fixed on the pebbled concrete under his running shoes. He hopes that by not looking up he might be invisible. It makes no rational sense. Today the world stopped making sense. Still, he can’t help but peek at the place where the towers once stood. He quickly looks away. The pile smolders. Ash, shreds of paper, and carcinogenic dust still rise into the air, carried by the prevailing winds. A downy coating of gray snowflakes falls around him.

from Blind to Midnight by Reed Farrel Coleman
Cover of Blind to Midnight by Reed Farrel Coleman
Sure, picking up a Coleman novel, you know you’re not in for a romp. But starting off with that date, you know things are going to be grim–and the next three paragraphs emphasize that.

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Opening Lines: One In the Chamber by Robin Peguero

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.

You aren’t born a killer. You don’t gradually become one, either. One minute, you’re not, and the next, you just are. Like your first time having sex. Just as thrilling. Just as awkward. Nothing much changes but the label. you’re still you. But now, you’re a quote-unquote murderer. You played God and took a human life.

It’s entirely natural, but it still shocks people. Some people want other people dead. We visualize our goals, and we achieve them. Shouldn’t that be celebrated?

You swish someone wanted you dead. Not that you have a death wish. You’re too self-involved for that, and suicide is so gauche. you just wish you were that important to someone. It’s a compliment really: to have given another person’s endpoint more than a passing thought. To decide for them that today is enough. And not just today, but at this very minute, their contribution to history should meet its unceremonious finish. High Flattery.

You’re welcome.

from One In the Chamber by Robin Peguero
Cover to One in the Chamber
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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Opening Lines: Christa Comes Out of Her Shell by Abbi Waxman

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
Christa Comes Out of Her Shell Cover
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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Opening Lines: Miracles by C.S. Lewis

from Miracles by C.S. Lewis:

In all my life I have met only one person who claims to have seen a ghost. And the interesting thing about the story is that that person disbelieved in the immortal soul before she saw the ghost and still disbelieves after seeing it. She says that what she saw must have been an illusion or a trick of the nerves, And obviously she may be right. Seeing is not believing.

For this reason, the question whether miracles occur can never be answered simply by experience. Every event which might claim to be a miracle is, in the last resort, something presented to our senses, something seen, heard, touched, smelled, or tasted. And our senses are not infallible. If anything extraordinary seems to have happened, we can always say that we have been the victims of an illusion. If we hold a philosophy which excludes the supernatural, this is what we always shall say. What we learn from experience depends on the kind of philosophy we bring to experience. It is therefore useless to appeal to experience before we have settled, as well as we can, the philosophical question.

If immediate experience cannot prove or disprove the miraculous, still less can history do so. Many people think one can decide whether a miracle occurred in the past by examining the evidence “according to the ordinary rules of historical inquiry.” But the ordinary rules cannot be worked until we have decided whether miracles are possible, and if so, how probable they are. For if they are impossible, then no amount of historical evidence will convince us. If they are possible but immensely improbable, then only mathematically demonstrative evidence will convince us: and since history never provides that degree of evidence for any event, history can never convince us that a miracle occurred. If, on the other hand, miracles are not intrinsically improbable, then the existing evidence will be sufficient to convince us that quite a number of miracles have occurred, The result of our historical enquiries thus depends on the philosophical views which we have been holding before we even began to look at the evidence, The philosophical question must therefore come first.

Here is an example of the sort of thing that happens if we omit the preliminary philosophical task, and rush on to the historical. In a popular commentary on the Bible you will find a discussion of the date at which the Fourth Gospel was written. The author says it must have been written after the execution of St. Peter, because, in the Fourth Gospel, Christ is represented as predicting the execution of St. Peter. “A book,” thinks the author, “cannot be written before events which it refers to.” Of course it cannot—unless real predictions ever occur. If they do, then this argument for the date is in ruins, And the author has not discussed at all whether real predictions are possible. He takes it for granted (perhaps unconsciously) that they are not. Perhaps he is right: but if he is, he has not discovered this principle by historical inquiry. He has brought his disbelief in predictions to his historical work, so to speak, ready made. Unless he had done so his historical conclusion about the date of the Fourth Gospel could not have been reached at all. His work is therefore quite useless to a person who wants to know whether predictions occur, The author gets to work only after he has already answered that question in the negative, and on grounds which he never communicates to us.

This book is intended as a preliminary to historical inquiry. I am not a trained historian and I shall not examine the historical evidence for the Christian miracles, My effort is to put my readers in a position to do so. It is no use going to the texts until we have some idea about the possibility or probability of the miraculous, Those who assume that miracles cannot happen are merely wasting their time by looking into the texts we know in advance what results they will find for they have begun by begging the question.

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Opening Lines: City on Fire by Don Winslow

We all know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover (yet, publishing companies spend big bucks on cover design/art and we all do judge them that way). But, the opening sentence(s)/paragraph(s) are fair game. So, when I stumble on a good opening (or remember one and pull it off the shelves), I like to throw it up here. There are so few writers that can grab you like Winslow can from the get-go.

from City on Fire by Don Winslow:

Danny Ryan watches the woman come out of the water like a vision emerging from his dreams of the sea.

Except she’s real and she’s going to be trouble.

Women that beautiful usually are.

Danny knows that; what he doesn’t know is just how much trouble she’s really going to be. If he knew that, knew everything that was going to happen, he might have walked into the water and held her head under until she stopped moving.

But he doesn’t know that.

So, the bright sun striking his face, Danny sits on the sand out m front of Pasco’s beach house and checks her out from behind the cover of his sunglasses.

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Opening Lines: Hacker by Duncan MacMaster

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.

I will not start this story at the moment I found an eyeball floating in my Coke.

from Hacker by Duncan MacMaster
Hacker Cover
Hard to top this. You have to keep going, right?

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Opening Lines: The Last Dance by Mark Billingham

We all know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover (yet, publishing companies spend big bucks on cover design/art and we all do judge them that way). But, the opening sentence(s)/paragraph(s) are fair game. So, when I stumble on a good opening (or remember one and pull it off the shelves), I like to throw it up here. This one characterizes so much of this book–good, solid detective/procedural kind of writing, served up with a perfectly off-kilter line that doesn’t belong there, but improves the whole thing so much that it actually has to be there.

from The Last Dance by Mark Billingham:

The coloured lights from more than a million lamps seem to dance above the town’s main street and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the black sea just beyond. On the street itself, a thousand neon signs dazzle and buzz and the slow-moving traffic has become a pulsating necklace of red and white beads. To the casual observer, gazing down from the top of the Tower perhaps, or from a penthouse apartment in one of the expensive blocks that have sprung up in recent years, this might be Las Vegas.

If that casual observer really squinted.

And had never been to Las Vegas.

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