Shaken & Stirred: First Lines

December 08, 2007

First Lines

Every year I do this meme, and every year I forget entirely how boring my first sentences of each month turn out to be. (Via Maureen, this year, whose blog is awesome no matter what she says.) To mix things up, I'm also going to add the last sentence of the last entry for each month (except this one, natch).

January:
(first) Y'all light up my life and I hope 2007 has only the best in store for you (and me).
(last) Raise hell. Now that's a legacy.

February:
(first) (This craze started by Jennifer. It's like the Internerd equivalent of your desk in elementary school on V-Day.)
(last) I'm on a panel Saturday morning (opposite Kelly, natch), but I imagine I'll also be findable around the Small Beer Press table quite a bit, so say hi. I'll update as I can.

March:
(first) So, here we are at AWP.
(last) Tomorrow there shall be laundry and writing and email.

April:
(first) While others have announced their write-in candidacies for SFWA president today, I choose not to pursue the means of electioneering. (Ed. note: I went on to declare war on SFWA, which I must admit has not been entirely effective as it STILL LIVES.)
(last) It also features an event at an upscale gentleman's club. (Ed. note: This is the last line of a Heroes synopsis.)

May:
(first) And now for what may well be one of the last times, a new VM ep:
(last) Go party with my LBC cohorts at the BEA party tonight at Kettle of Fish in Greenwich Village.

June:
(first) The ultra-fabbest Cecil Castellucci gets the royal interview treatment at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast.
(last) The world without human beings.

July:
(first) The latest issues of Chizine and Farrago's Wainscot are online.
(last) (Via the Lady Cecil!)

August:
(first) Continue to check in if you haven't.
(last) Have a great weekend, everybody -- and if you're expecting a response from me on something, I'm happy to report that The Incredibly Cranky E-Mail Fairy has office hours scheduled this weekend to tackle The Inbox That Ate My Life.

September:
(first) And Niall's got the skinny on the Hugo awards including the break-down of the results (be prepared if you look at these; shockingly few people vote -- also Scalzi lost best fan writer by ONE VOTE!).
(last) And a silly quiz result (to which I say: No fair, but the test is fun):

October:
(first) Let us all bid September a not-so-fond adieu.
(last) Can't wait to see the new, sweet style.

November:
(first) So pretty: The Journal of Mythic Arts' new online home!
(last) *Christopher's Automated Phone System Fu is second to none.

December:
(first) Very, very well.
(last) (... who knows? But I'll try to make it good.)

Posted at 06:10 PM in Nattering | Permalink

Comments

You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

Read Read

E. Lockhart: Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, The
You might think the world doesn't need any more boarding school novels, but if you haven't read this one then you're wrong, wrong, wrong. E. Lockhart has surpassed herself with this fable of a girl coming into her own and challenging the boy's club at her prep school -- while falling in love with its members at the same time. Lockhart never simplifies or skirts gender issues and power dynamics, and lets Frankie be realistic instead of a treatise disguised as a character. The sly omniscient narrator tells the story perfectly, and leaves hope that maybe one girl can change the world. More novels as funny and true and perfect as this one, please.
Kathi Appelt: The Underneath
Appelt's first novel is a beautiful, magical fantasy for younger readers that will instantly become a classic. Seriously. I can imagine this book being in classrooms right alongside Charlotte's Web in a hundred years. The writing is poetic in the good way, and there's a lamia. Children are going to absolutely fall in love with Appelt's equally kind and brutal universe, where love conquers most, and it can take millenia to come to your senses.
Jincy Willett: The Writing Class
With her second novel, Willett matches the perfect pitch and execution of her brilliant short stories. Every writer will want to read this novel--very little wincing is involved, but expect a great deal of laughter. C and I found ourselves reading pieces aloud, after howling provoked the "what's so funny?" question. As with any good writing workshop or class, the characters become more appealing as you get to know them, and ultimately what she has pulled off is a satisfying mystery, and a satisfying exploration of humanity. Amy Gallup is a character to remember.
Karen Joy Fowler: Wit's End
A new novel by Karen Fowler really is something to be excited about, unlike many of the writers for whom such praise gets bandied about. (If you're smirking because you think you know something about her work from the title--not the book--The Jane Austen Book Club, please go sit in the corner and read any of her novels. You're welcome.) This is an unmystery-like mystery, concerned not so much with dead bodies--though there are plenty--as with the mysteries of healing and the heart, politics and people. How is it that a writer gets a lens on the present that's as revealing as the one she employs in historical fiction? Now that's a mystery. Highly recommended.
Steve Erickson: Zeroville
Steve Erickson novels are often like dreams, or revelations, or discovered artifacts, or written just for you. Zeroville's no different, although it is perhaps the most readily graspable example of his work to date. The Rosetta Stone is there; the secret decoder ring is a film projector. The dizzying Hollywood confidential stylings will make your inner film geek happy, but the uncovering of a truly mythic cinematic story--since cinema has existed forever--of sacrifice and redemption is even more memorable. See also: this review.
Ursula Dubosarsky: The Red Shoe (Neal Porter Books)
Set in Sydney during WWII, this wonderful novel travels between the view from inside each of three sisters. Dubosarsky perfectly captures the differences that come from being the younger, older, or middle child. Perfectly conjuring the period, and yet creating a completely accessible story, the narrative contrasts chapters focusing on the family with interstitials from the Sydney newspapers of the time, stories of polio, the H-bomb, and a defecting Russian spy (who happens to be in hiding next door). Nothing here is heavy-handed. Everything is perfectly balanced. It's a beautiful, beautiful novel. See my full take here.

Picture This