last year sometime, i posted a week of first paragraphs of novels that i’ve enjoyed over the course of my life. this, then, is another week of first paragraphs, some from novels i’ve read and other from those that i have not, but hope to in the future, because, well because of their first paragraph.
from Robert Ferro’s Second Son:
After some time he realized the house was speaking to whoever might be listening: this was Mark. He heard it in the wind through the porch, in the boom at the end when a door slammed, in the whine of the furnace when first engaged; sounds that held images of moments fractured in air as when, turning at the banister at the top of the stairs, he saw his young niece tilt her head to listen to her vanity and adjust a gypsy earing–a languorous, emblematic moment of her magic childhood, in an older safer world. The house made this possible. He could see it still in the air.