And you thought it was just me...

But in fact, I'm not the only collector of first lines. I have bookmarked several web sites with larger collections, my favorite being the First Line Literacy Test from Cornell. It features hundreds of first lines categorized by decade, genre, age level (children's books and high school classics), and other themes. Each category is presented as a quiz. Some lines are teasingly familiar, others frustratingly obscure, but the answers are always a mouse click away.

There is even a category showcasing some of the longest first lines, including this record shattering 212 word entry by Joyce Carol Oates (almost as long as some of her shorter novels):

It was many years ago in that dark, chaotic, unfathomable pool of time before Germaine's birth (nearly twelve months before her birth), on a night in late September stirred by innumerable frenzied winds, like spirits contending with one another--now plaintively, now angrily, now with a subtle cellolike delicacy capable of making the flesh rise on one's arms and neck--a night so sulfurous, so restless, so swollen with inarticulate longing that Leah and Gideon Bellefleur in their enormous bed quarreled once again, brought to tears because their love was too ravenous to be contained by their mere mortal bodies; and their groping, careless, anguished words were like strips of raw silk rubbed violently together (for each was convinced the other did not, could not, be equal to his love--Leah doubted that any man was capable of a love so profound it could be silent, like a forest pond; Gideon doubted that any woman was capable of comprehending the nature of a man's passion, which might tear through him, rendering him broken and exhausted, as vulnerable as a small child): it was on this tumultuous rain-lashed night that Mahalaleel came to Bellefleur Manor on the western shore of the great Lake Noir, where he was to stay for nearly five years.

      --Joyce Carol Oates, "Bellefleur"

There is also a brief multiple choice quiz on an Encarta site. I got 11 correct out of 13; I expect readers of this blog to score no lower than 7.

I got a perfect score on a second, easier quiz; the designer states that the average result is 12 out of 15 correct.

Lastly, if you're up for more obscure openers than those two sites, here is another place to try.

There are many other links to be found, I'm sure--just try a Google search on "first lines of novels" or something similar. If you find anything as good as the first link above (as if anyone cares), be sure to let me know.

Measuring Up

At birth, now almost seven years ago, Andrew, Justin, and Kevin were all less than five pounds and within a few ounces of one another: Andrew weighed 4' 15", Kevin 4' 10", and Justin 4' 7".

It is amazing how much weight kids gain during the first two years and then how their growth patterns evolve differently over time. Now nearly seven years old, the boys look less and less alike and their different body types are readily apparent.

Today's doctor visit confirmed what is obvious to everyone: the physical differences among them are becoming more pronounced. By the time they reach puberty--and it won't surprise me if they begin eighteen months or more apart (and won't that be a challenge for the late bloomer to understand?)--they probably won't even look the same age and there could easily be a thirty pound weight difference.

Here's how they compared today:

Andrew: 50 1/4 inches; 61 pounds   (95th percentile)

Kevin:   49 inches; 45 1/2 pounds   (90%; 50%)

Justin: 45 3/4 inches; 46 pounds   (25%; 50%)

That's a whopping 4.5 inch and 15 pound difference between Andrew and Justin.

It's easy to assume that Andrew or Kevin will be the tallest. But I keep recalling Kathy's claim that she was one of the tallest kids in her class through second grade when she just stopped growing, and how I was one of the shortest boys even through high school until I sprouted several inches in college. So time will tell.

To this day one of the most common questions we get when strangers meet the boys and learn they are triplets is, "Which one is the oldest?" and a hundred times at least I've had someone point at Andrew and ask, "Is he the oldest?"

I have never understood that question.

Yes, I know that there are habitual questions people ask without giving them much thought, but it still baffles me. (I have a friend with boy/girl twins who is often asked, "Are they identical?" and she sometimes shrugs and answers, "Yes, except that one has a penis.")

Do people assume it will explain one child's ten pound and four inch size difference over his brother if we answer that he was born sixty seconds earlier? Or do they think triplets can be born months apart?

It's a mystery to me.

Put'n'm Down

The latest rejection of The Search for Plupreme comes from G. P. Putnam's Sons (i.e., Penguin):

We have read and discussed your proposal and regret to say we will not be making a publishing offer for it. This decision is based on our own judgment of its sales potential with us and the needs for our current list.

Thank you for thinking of Putnam and best of luck placing your book with another publisher.

      --The Editorial Department

They discussed my proposal? Wouldn't that be wonderful? If I could only believe it to be true. I envision the day some brave junior editor shows up at the weekly editorial meeting and during her five minutes pitches Ashley's quest to discover a new color--my vision resting on the courage, confidence, and persuasiveness of some overworked and underpaid assistant hoping to one day to discover the next Laura Joffe Numeroff or Peggy Rathman. (Should I remind them that Bill Martin, Jr., Paula Danziger, and several other luminaries have all recently passed away, creating a vacuum I'm willing to fill?)

This time the form letter also included the suggestion:

Be sure to follow the guidelines below for future submissions.

Oops, had I committed some egregious infraction of editorial policy (aside from omitting any mention of my multiple submissions to ten publishers...shhh!)? But no, I read the guidelines and I had followed them precisely.

They also reminded me:

If you would like to receive a catalog, please send a 9x12 envelope with the appropriate postage.

Well of course I agree that reviewing a catalog of a publisher's most recent list is a great way to learn what they are looking for and what they have recently published. It's the "appropriate postage" ambiguity that frustrates me: how the hell am I supposed to know how large or heavy their catalog is and how much postage is required if the publisher won't say?

Their parting comment was:

A great resource for children's book writers is the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (www.scbwi.org).

OK, so next time I better find a way to remind them of my membership in my cover letter. Maybe it would help if I held a prestigious position in a local chapter. Hmmm.

Shortest First Lines

Preparing my First Line Quiz reminded me how many excellent beginning lines have fewer than ten words.*   A few of those appeared in the quiz:

My father lost me to The Beast at cards.     [9]
--Angela Carter, The Tiger Bride

Sooner or later, it was bound to happen.     [8]
--Arthur C. Clarke, Rendezvous With Rama

What's it going to be then, eh?     [7]
--Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange

In a sense, I am Jacob Horner.     [7]
--John Barth, The End of the Road

All this happened, more or less.     [6]
--Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughter-House Five

It was love at first sight.     [6]
--Joseph Heller, Catch-22

--Totally naked, for God's sake?     [5]
--Anthony Burgess, M/F

I even included three examples of opening lines of only three words:

Call me Ishmael.
--Herman Melville, Moby Dick

Mother died today.
--Albert Camus, The Stranger

They're out there.
--Ken Kesey, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

The first two are arguably among the most well known opening lines ever written. The third, Kesey's, could easily have been four words, but the abbreviation and resulting homonym pairing give it both a poetic balance and a paranoid foreshadowing of the novel's plot.

I have several other short favorites, some well known, others obscure, that I still enjoy for one reason or another:

It was there when I woke up, I swear.     [9]
--Jonathan Letham, Gun, With Occasional Music

Once there was a man named John.     [7]
--Robert Coover, John’s Wife

I write of what has just occurred.     [7]
--Gene Wolfe, Soldier of the Mist

I have always been a quitter.     [6]
--T. C. Boyle, Budding Prospects

It was a pleasure to burn.     [6]
--Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Her gynecologist recommended him to me.     [6]
--John Irving, The Water-Method Man

A screaming comes across the sky.     [6]
--Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow

Context is everything.     [3]
--Jonathan Letham, Motherless Brooklyn

It began oddly.     [3]
--Philip Roth, The Breast

And, yes, I did find an opening line on my bookshelf of a single word, from John Hawkes:

Dad?
--John Hawkes, Adventures in the Alaskan Skin Trade

-----

      * I discussed the longest first lines last month.

0 for 3

Back from vacation to discover two more telltale 9 x 12" self-addressed manila envelopes (the ubiquitous SASE's) signaling two more publishers passing on The Search for Plupreme. The form rejection letters are getting interesting to compare, though.

First, from Farrar, Strauss & Giroux, Inc.:

Dear Author/Illustrator:

We deeply regret having to use this form letter; however, the volume of manuscripts and artwork we receive precludes our writing to you personally. Please be assured that your work was given serious attention by one of our editors, but unfortunately was considered inappropriate for our list.

We are grateful to you for thinking of us and wish you the best of luck in placing your work elsewhere.

Sincerely,
[Unsigned]
Editorial Staff
Books for Young Readers

This was only slightly less anonymous than the Greenwillow postcard. The "author/illustrator" ambiguity, in particular, suggests a lack of interest in even bothering to create two unique "Thanks, But No Thanks" form letters, but at least they claimed my work "was given serious attention."

Next, Gulliver Books (Harcourt) followed with the most personal rejection to date:

Dear Author,

Thank you for submitting your manuscript for my consideration and for your interest in Gulliver Books.

I have reviewed your work carefully, but I’m afraid I cannot offer to take the project on. We receive numerous submissions each year, including many of considerable merit. Because our list is small and selective, we are able to publish only a very few of these. I wish I could comment more specifically on your project, but the large number of submissions make such a reply impossible.

I’m sorry I cannot give a more encouraging response. I am returning your material with my thanks for thinking of me. I wish you luck in your publishing pursuits.

Best wishes,
Elizabeth Van Doren
Editorial Director of Gulliver Books

Kudos to Elizabeth for signing her form rejection and for making it more personal, even referring to herself a number of times.

So, three down and seven to go.

But, hey, it only takes two to start a bidding war.

Conquering a Fear

The second hike up Shakespeare Rock was with Justin. This was the climb I was most worried about, partially because I expected Justin to be more likely to slip on the dusty trail or the sharp boulders, but mostly because I knew that Justin has a fear of heights.

We made the ascent in about forty-five minutes largely due to the fact that I had left trail markers during my hike with Andrew. So this trip we wasted no time wandering in the woods searching for the main and auxiliary trails. Justin also hiked without complaint and took few breaks for water. He seemed eager just to get to the top. He had no idea that I was worried that once he made it, the view from the rocky summit might trigger his fear of heights.

To my private surprise Justin climbed the last few yards over the large craggy boulders with little difficulty and then quickly began admiring the breathtaking view and pointing out the many landmarks he recognized. We called Kathy who was surprised we were already at the peak. She took the golf cart down to the pier to wave to Justin and to tell his brothers who were crawdad fishing with a neighbor beneath the dock.

While we had lunch and waited for Kathy to call back Justin announced to me, "Dad, guess what? Today I conquered another fear."

So he had thought about it, I mused, saying, "Really, Justin, what fear was that?"

His explanation delighted me. "Well, you know how sometimes when I climb steep stairs or I'm standing in high places I get afraid I'm going to fall? I get a feeling like there's a cool breeze blowing on my tummy. Well, today I didn't get that feeling. I just love it up here. I didn't even get scared."

Perfect. I couldn't have been more proud.

Kathy called back and Justin told her about the hike. I could hear his brothers in the background shouting their hellos. Kathy told Justin what a good job he'd done. Justin told her about conquering his fear and thanked her for her comments.

We hung up and finished our lunch while Justin told me more about his excitement. Then he asked me, "Is it okay if I try to make my voice echo?"

"Sure," I answered hesitantly. I was afraid he might resurrect our private joke from the movie Brother Bear and imitate the rams who keep shouting "Shut up!" to their own echoes. I didn't particularly want Justin shouting "Shut up!" and "No, you shut up!" from the top of Shakespeare Rock.

But Justin stood up, turned and faced the lake, and shouted, "Hello! I love you! Thanks for all the compliments!"

Keeping a New Year's Resolution

Andrew couldn't be more proud. He hiked up Shakespeare's Rock alone with his Daddy for his first time.

All three boys have thought about this trip for several years, with good reason. Each summer we vacation at Lake Tahoe and the sheer granite surface of Shakespeare's Rock looms above us visible from the driveway, the beach, and most of the grounds. Every year I lead one group or another of adults and occasionally older children on the hike.

So naturally every year the boys ask when they will be old enough to go. But this year Andrew surprised and charmed me when he made it his New Year's Resolution at school. We didn't even know the school had discussed resolutions. But the boys came home talking about theirs and that's when I learned that Andrew's was "to climb Shakespeare's Rock with my Daddy." (Justin's was to get better at chess and Kevin's was to do more math and play more basketball.)

I knew it would be a challenge to get Kevin and Justin to accept that Andrew would get to hike alone with me, but I also believed that it was important to give Andrew that chance. (Why was he even thinking about Shakespeare's Rock in January?) We had eight months to get them comfortable with the idea, but all along I knew that on the day of the hike they might get emotional about being left behind. But they had accepted it: they drove Andrew and me to the trailhead and wished Andrew good luck.

The hike itself was a great time. We lost the trail at least three times, but Andrew remained calm. He hiked happily and without complaint. He had great balance on the slippery trails, used his hands when he should, clambered over rocks without fear, showed surprising instincts for navigating in the woods, and pointed out things I had never noticed. And of course he talked the whole way.

When we reached the summit (I'm guessing it is only about a 400 foot elevation gain) he scrambled over the rocks, found a shady picnic spot with a terrific view and joyfully ate his PB&J (they never taste so good as they do after a long hike, do they?), and posed proudly to have his picture taken. His brothers called from the house and then walked out on the pier to try to spot us waving our hats (impossible to do, though we could make out three specks moving along the dock).

On the hike down Andrew discovered the arched opening in the vertical rock face where serious climbers with full gear practice their climbing. He wanted to get up close and inspect it and I foolishly agreed. It's about a forty yard climb over loose rocks with precarious footholds. About two thirds of the way up I realized there was no way we could descend the way we had climbed. Andrew knew I was concerned and kept apologizing, but I explained that it was my bad judgment and we'd find a safer way back down which we fortunately did.

The round trip took us about three hours and when we emerged from the woods we were filthy and happy. Andrew found a way to tell his brothers about the trip without boasting and most of the time they were excited for him and looking forward to a turn.

Three days later if you ask Andrew abut his favorite part of his vacation he'll still answer "climbing Shakespeare's Rock." His second favorite is having built a tower of cards five levels high without help.

Two nights ago at bedtime, cuddling with Justin, he smiled sleepily and asked in a whisper whether I would play chess with him the next day. I eagerly agreed, while privately thinking: another boy keeping his resolution.

"Chrysanthemum" It Ain't

I got my first official "Thanks, But No Thanks" form letter--postcard, actually--from Greenwillow Books, the publishers of many of Kevin Henkes outstanding picture books. Their web site was quite clear about not currently accepting unsolicited or unagented material, but it was worth a shot.

There is no way to tell whether anyone so much as glanced at the manuscript, not even an errant ink mark or coffee stain. Just the following:

Thank you for submitting your work.
We are sorry that it is not right for our list.
We appreciate your letting us consider it, and
we wish you success in placing it elsewhere.

So, one down and nine to go.

That is, until I submit Ashley and Shadow, and begin resubmitting The Search for Plupreme to smaller publishing houses.

How does my brother do it?

Here I am posting away about children's books, discussing first lines of novels, admitting to submitting a manuscript to children's book publishers, and referring to John Irving as one of my favorite authors, when Tom refers me to "A Widow for One Year," the only John Irving novel I don't actually own and one of only two that I haven't read (the other being, "A Son of the Circus," and that one already on my bookshelf).

So naturally, "A Widow for One Year" turns out to be about a writer; specifically, a writer of children's books; and one who has written--we learn within fifteen pages--a children's book entitled, "The Mouse Crawling Between the Walls," that according to just about everyone in the novel has a terrific first sentence.

In fact, so much is made of that first sentence--we are told that one character (another writer) will always envy it and that the main character holds the opinion that "there was no better beginning to any story than the first sentence of The Mouse Crawling Between the Walls"--that one begins to doubt whether Irving would ever dare to attempt crafting it.

It's a pretty bold setup and one Irving addresses quickly. And when he does, frankly, he knocks one out of the park. I'll come back to that sentence later, and have more to say about Irving's successes and excesses, but for now I'm still shaking my head trying to figure out how I missed this book so conveniently for Tom to have the chance to recommend it.