William Gibson in his 1984 novel Neuromancer, gave us "cyberspace" and "the matrix." And he made all sorts of other fiction possible. It threw me for a loop the first time I read it. Sentences like this, from p. 5:
He'd operated on an almost permanent adrenaline high, a byproduct of youth and proficiency, jacked into a custom cyberspace deck that projected his disembodied consciousness into a consensual hallucination that was the matrix.Egad. I mean--"disembodied consciousness?" Consciousness doesn't have a body, so how can it be disembodied?
And "custom cyberspace deck"?--what was that?
And "consensual hallucination"? Come on.
I was wondering what kind of hallucination he was on. I was also realizing that this book was either genius or trash.
Sometimes you have to do when reading what William Saffire once said you have to do when you use language. It's taking an elephant for a walk. You just have to go where it wants. Then afterwards you can decide whether it was worth the trip. Or, if you find out the trip's not worth it when you're half way through, drop the leash and go on to something else.
Well, here is his first sentence:
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.So what is that? I wasn't drawn in by this sentence, but I was curious about what that might be about that I kept reading.
What do you think? Do you have a favorite book or first sentence? Tell me. Post a comment. I'd like to know. And follow me on Twitter.com
Writing is for me an entrepreneurial activity. For my ideas on entrepreneurship, go to www.hatman2.blogspot.com and for entrepreneurial real estate go to www.yourstopforrealestate.com/blog and for my ideas on writing and publishing, go to www.kearneymusicschoolmurders.blogspot.com.
Ian Kearney, the director of the Kearney Music School, an elite musical training school in Philadelphia, dies after a fall from a balcony during a recital. World-famous cellist, Henry Harrier, recently forced from the faculty, returns to investigate Ian's death when his prized former student is arrested. Henry shows through his brilliant and single-minded pursuit of the truth that, as usual, they have it all wrong. This Sherlock Holmes-type mystery leads the reader through the world of classical music and lays bare the conflicts which dominate the lives of talented adolescents when placed under the pressure of studying for a demanding, stressful, and often elusive career as a classical music performer. Henry Harrier is part John Le Carre's George Smiley, part Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmes, and part Orlando Cole the beloved teacher, renowned chamber musician, and until his own retirement, the premier cellist of the Curtis Institute.
Tim was born in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, on January 30, 1946. In 1951 he moved with his family to Schenectady, New York, where he lived through high school. He attended Baldwin-Wallace College, Berea, Ohio, from 1964 to 1968. He graduated in 1968 with a B.A. in history and philosophy. He received his Ph. D. in history in U.S. history in 1980 from the University of Wisconsin-Madison after spending 2.5 years in the U. S. Army. Most of his army service was completed in Wuerzburg, Germany, from 1969-1971. In 1972 he returned to Madison to complete his doctoral study. His dissertation, Those Who Moved; Internal Migrants in American 1607-1840, combined the statistical analysis of genealogical and biographical data with the study of traditional literary diaries, letters, and journals.
