Those of us who write have had it explained to us – not to say ‘driven into our heads’, that the first paragraph of our novels must contain a ‘hook’ for the reader, must be concise, interesting and well-written. If that’s the case, what do you think of this opening paragraph:

The triple-pane floor-to-ceiling windows of Hollister’s study frame the rising plain to the west, the foothills and the distant Rocky Mountains that were long ago born from the earth in cataclysm, now dark and majestic against a sullen sky. It is a view to match the man who stands at this wall of glass. The word cataclysm is a synonym for disaster or upheaval but also for revolution, and he is the leader of the greatest revolution in history. The greatest and the last. The end of history is near, after which his vision of a pacified world will endure forever.

The question was posed by Harry Bingham of Jericho Writers in his Friday email a couple of months ago. Before I tell you who is the author of this paragraph, let me give you Harry’s take on the paragraph.

Harry says: “I hope you agree that the sentence is bad. If the sentence just ran like this:

The triple-pane floor-to-ceiling windows of Hollister’s study frame the rising plain to the west.

– you could just about digest it. Even in that much abbreviated form (14 words versus 39) you’re being asked to compose these elements:

The windows are triple-paned

• They run floor-to ceiling.
• They are in the study belonging to someone called Hollister.
• A rising plain is visible through the windows.
• The plain runs west from the windows.

The full version of the sentence, however, adds in these additional elements:

• There are foothills.
• And the Rocky Mountains.
• The Rocky Mountains were born long ago, and in cataclysm.
• These mountains are now looking dark and majestic.
• The sky is sullen.

This is quite clearly an awful lot of ingredients, particularly in an opening sentence. Worse still, the sentence shifts focus. The first part of it is clearly talking about windows. The last part is talking about mountains. What are we meant to be focusing on? It’s just not clear. (Or, as it happens, even correct. The Rocky Mountains weren’t born in cataclysm. They formed when two tectonic plates ran gently together, thereby pushing the earth upwards. That process ran for about 30 million years and is extremely slow, not even one millimetre a year.)

Oh yes, and if we were being mean, I think we’d suggest that the adjectives (dark, majestic, sullen) are all rather shopworn in their obviousness.

OK. So we don’t like the first sentence. The second sentence feels a bit better:

It is a view to match the man who stands at this wall of glass.

The feeling engendered in a competent reader is likely to be one of extreme awkwardness – like you’re talking to a boring man in a pub, and he leans in too close, and his breath smells of beer and bacon-flavour crisps, and he tells you something which you know to be untrue of the mountains outside, and you notice that his toupee has slipped. You want to get away, but there’s something desperately adhesive about the whole situation.

Clarity (and an exit from the pub-situation) comes with the remainder of the paragraph. This chap at the window is a revolutionary. He has Dr Evil style plans for the planet. Paragraph two talks about his need to kill someone. Paragraph three discusses his intention to make the kill himself.

Overall? Your impression?

I think you’re going to agree with me that the writing is awkward. Needs improvement before it goes to a literary agent.

The trouble is, we’ve just discussed the opening paragraphs of a Dean Koontz novel, The Night Window, and guy has sold 450 million or more novels worldwide. So he’s doing something right.”

“I most certainly know that I could never bring myself to write those sentences. Yet perhaps their badness is part of what attracts Koontz’s readers. Here are some possibilities:

1. The first sentence is overfilled with information, but perhaps that presents Koontz as a fount of knowledge – establishes him as some kind of authority.

2. For that reason it doesn’t matter that his geology is dubious or that his vocabulary-facts are roughly ninth grade.

3. His readers are probably interested more in grand external story (the biggest revolution in history) than in fine interior details. The fact-first presentation style somehow authorises those preferences. The subsequent material about Hollister’s plans to kill people confirm that we’re in graphic novel/James Bond territory, not anything more refined.”

Finally, Harry makes the point that it’s important, as a writer, to be true to yourself. “Dean Koontz has been true to himself and to his half-dozen pseudonyms.”

I have to admit that sometimes I find that the novels shortlisted for the Booker Prize disappointing, But, this time – 2021 – I found one that’s delightful. Great Circle is the third novel from Maggie Shipstead, whose two previous novels were very well received. Ms Shipstead is a graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a former Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stamford. Judging by her website, she is very well travelled, having completed numerous assignments for Conde Naste Travel. This doubtless came in handy, as the locations in Great Circle include Hollywood, New York, the North Atlantic, Hawaii, Alaska, South Africa, New Zealand, Sweden, Missoula Montana, Seattle, Antarctica, and various locations in England.

Interestingly, the book does not appear to be based on a real-life event. I cannot find any record of ‘the first polar great circle flight – by man or woman. In fact Ms Shipstead says that the original inspiration for the novel was seeing a statue of Jean Batten in Auckland, New Zealand. Batten was the first woman to fly solo from England to New Zealand. Ms Shipstead appears to have selected the DC3 as being the first affordable, non-military aircraft which. with the technology available in 1950, could have been able to make the flight.

There are two protagonists in this story: Marian Graves, a driven, thrill-seeking woman who is in love with flying, and Hadley Baxter, a successful but selfish and amoral Hollywood star. Marian and her twin brother are rescued from a sinking passenger liner in the North Atlantic by their father, a widower, who is sent to prison for abandoning his ship. The twins are raised in Missoula, Montana by a neglectful, ne’er, do well uncle during the Great Depression. Marian becomes enchanted by barnstorming pilots and at the age of fourteen learns to fly. She becomes a bush pilot, flying alcohol from Canada to the States during Prohibition. Her financial sponsor becomes her domineering husband, but she breaks free, and travels to England where she joins a group of female pilots who ferry war planes from place to place. She then decides to pioneer a polar great circle route in an airplane. The records seemed to indicate that her aircraft, the Peregrine, went down somewhere between Antarctica and New Zealand.

Hadley Baxter, who had had a long run in a popular romantic series, is persuaded to play Marian in a forthcoming film about her life. She becomes fascinated by Marian’s story, and begins to investigate it. This leads to her finding out what actually happened to Marian.

This story is like a jigsaw puzzle whose many colourful pieces finally fit neatly into place. There are numerous supporting characters, all of whom are unique, well drawn and who build our interest in the story and help define the protagonists. Clearly, the author has done her research. The many details of aircraft, flying, film-making, painting, and the numerous out-of-the-way places are clear and credible. Underlying the fabric of the story is the image of a circle – completed or broken – as it can be applied to human life.

The only problem I have with the book is the character of Hadley Baxter, who seems too superficial and self-absorbed to play Marian Graves. In a way, Hadley’s character takes some of the shine off of Marian. Perhaps someone more serious, naive and curious would have been better.

You won’t be able to put it down!

This book caught my eye when there was a piece about it in my alumni magazine. Its author, Janine di Giovanni was a war reporter for nearly 30 years. She is currently Senior Fellow and Lecturer at Yale University’s Jackson Institute for Global Affairs. She is the author of nine previous books, and has won more than a dozen prizes, including a Guggenheim Fellowship.

This book focuses on four countries/ regions of the Middle East: Iraq, Syria, Egypt and Gaza. In each case, Ms di Giovanni has spent time in the area as a correspondent, and in each geography she provides a historic account – not only from a religious perspective – but also from political, economic and social points of view. What follows then is her personal experience of individual Christian people and their faith during her visits. These individual stories and her responses to them make this book much more than an interesting piece of research. It is also alive with human emotion.

The point of the book is that Christianity is becoming a rarity in the region of its birth. Many Christians have left the Middle East because their personal safety or wellbeing is under threat, and many have been killed by religious hatred.

Ms di Giovanni, herself a devout Catholic, does not apportion blame for this evolution – most of which has occurred in the last century. She simply reports the reactions to the actions of others, without naming other faiths as the initiators. Nor does she suggest remedies. She lets the facts speak for themselves.

The book is well-written, the dozens of individual stories are engaging as well as sad. But this is not a sad book. It is wise and very readable.