tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732486.post8774715042672089768..comments2023-10-26T03:19:41.569-07:00Comments on Stephen Bodio's Querencia: More Far Away- and Great First LinesSteve Bodiohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14434597061701369867noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732486.post-58372245459438148742011-02-04T20:14:26.567-08:002011-02-04T20:14:26.567-08:00"Un Perm Au Casino Hermann Goering""Un Perm Au Casino Hermann Goering"Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732486.post-67732566780932075332011-02-02T10:37:05.592-08:002011-02-02T10:37:05.592-08:00I give up-- WHAT IS IT??
Great stuff, anyway...I give up-- WHAT IS IT??<br /><br />Great stuff, anyway...Steve Bodiohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14434597061701369867noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8732486.post-74632672934283007302011-01-29T23:40:14.549-08:002011-01-29T23:40:14.549-08:00So good. I've been talking recently with a fr...So good. I've been talking recently with a friend about what makes a good first line, sorta kinda coming around to: the rest of the lines.<br /> <br />I still personally cling to this one. Not really an opening line, though it starts a section. The first sentence of the book is more famous, but I love love love the elegance of this one and the way it provides a voice you could listen to for 800 pages. Such an effortlessly beautiful sentence.<br /><br />Here goes, complete with epigraph:<br /><br />You will have the tallest, darkest leading man in Hollywood.<br /><br />Merian C. Cooper to Fay Wray<br /><br />########<br /><br />This morning's streets are already clattering, near and far, with wood-soled civilian feet. Up in the wind is a scavenging of gulls, sliding, easy, side to side, wings hung out still, now and then a small shrug, only to gather lift for this weaving, unweaving, white and slow faro shuffle off invisible thumbs. . . . Yesterday's first glance, coming along the esplanade in the afternoon, was somber: the sea in shades of gray under gray clouds, the Casino Hermann Goering flat white and the palms in black sawtooth, hardly moving. . . . But this morning the trees in the sun now are back to green. Leftward, far away, the ancient aqueduct loops crumbling, dry yellow, out along the Cap, the houses and villas there baked to warm rusts, gentle corrosions all through Earth's colors, pale raw to deeply burnished.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com