Trying to Catch Up
Long ago I posted the first couple of pages of a couple of Grisham novels, and promised to talk about 'em.
At long last, part of my life is cleared away enough for me to do it.
So... without further ado ...
<BLOCKQUOTE>The first two pages of The Summons, by John Grisham:
Chapter 1
It came by mail, regular postage, the old-fashioned way since the Judge was almost eighty and distrusted modern devices. Forget e-mail and even faxes. He didn't use an answering machine and had never been fond of the telephone. He pecked out his letters with both index fingers, one feeble key at a time, hunched over his old Underwood manual on a rolltop desk under the portrait of Nathan Bedford Forrest. The Judge's grandfather had fought with Forrest at Shiloh and throughout the Deep South, and to him no figure in history was more revered. For thirty-two years, the Judge had quietly refused to hold court on July 13, Forrest's birthday.
It came with another letter, a magazine, and two invoices, and was routinely placed in the law school mailbox of Professor Ray Atlee. He recognized it immediately since such envelopes had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. It was from his father, a man he too called the Judge.
Professor Atlee studied the envelope, uncertain whether he should open it right there or wait a moment. Good news or bad, he never knew with the Judge, though the old man was dying and good news had been rare. It was thin and appeared to contain only one sheet of paper; nothing unusual about that. The Judge was frugal with the written word, though he'd once been known for his windy lectures from the bench.
It was a business letter, that much was certain. The Judge was not one for small talk, hated gossip and idle chitchat, whether written or spoken. Ice tea with him on the porch would be a refighting of the Civil War, probably at Shiloh, where he would once again lay all blame for the Confederate defeat at the shiny, untouched boots of General Pierre G. T. Beauregard, a man he would hate even in heaven, if by chance they met there.
He'd be dead soon. Seventy-nine years old with cancer in his stomach. He was overweight, a diabetic, a heavy pipe smoker, had a bad heart that had survived three attacks, and a host of lesser ailments that had tormented him for twenty years and were now finally closing in for the kill. The pain was constant. During their last phone call three weeks earlier, a call initiated by Ray because the Judge thought long distance was a rip-off, the old man sounded weak and strained. They had talked for less than two minutes.
The return address was gold-embossed: Chancellor Reuben V. Atlee, 25 Chancery District, Ford County Courthouse, Clanton, Mississippi. Ray slid the envelope into the magazine and began walking. Judge Atlee no longer held the office of chancellor. The voters had retired him nine years earlier; a bitter defeat from which he would never recover. Thirty-two years of diligent service to his people, and they tossed him out in favor of a younger man with ra-</BLOCKQUOTE>
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Chapter 1</BLOCKQUOTE>
The book will be divided into chapters. No epigram, no chapter names.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
It came by mail, regular postage, the old-fashioned way since the Judge was almost eighty and distrusted modern devices.</BLOCKQUOTE>
We start with pronoun without an antecedent. "It" here probably is "the summons" of the title. We've got a bit else going on here -- we're introduced to a character "the Judge" (with capital we can tell this is a name, or stands for a name), and a bit about him (age eighty, distrusts modern devices). That's characterization. An object, a person, and characterization. Not bad for sentence one.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Forget e-mail and even faxes.</BLOCKQUOTE>
Bolsters the old-fashioned impression, and bit of a change in rhythm. Sentence one was nineteen words; sentence two is five.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
He didn't use an answering machine and had never been fond of the telephone. </BLOCKQUOTE>
Yet more on the Judge's old-fashioned, and even odd (not fond of the telephone?) ways. The lack of tech is mentioned three times in the first three sentences -- this will be important before the book is done.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
He pecked out his letters with both index fingers, one feeble key at a time, hunched over his old Underwood manual on a rolltop desk under the portrait of Nathan Bedford Forrest.</BLOCKQUOTE>
More characterization, and some physical description. Action. The Judge is hunched (we already know he's old), he's feeble (since typewriter keys don't have feebleness as one of their attributes, it must be the Judge's typing style). The roll-top desk suggests age, as does the "old" typewriter. We're getting some physical scene-setting (notice that only important details are mentioned -- we don't know if he has carpets or a hardwood floor, we don't know what the lights look like -- but we the readers are already forming a picture. One important part of this scene -- it gets the position of power at the end of the sentence -- is the portrait. Nathan Beford Forrest places the Judge in the South (Forrest was a Confederate general), and reveals an unpleasant fact about the Judge's character -- Forrest founded the Ku Klux Klan. This sentence is much longer and more complex than the two that preceeded it. It's nearly the length of the first three sentences combined. The author wants us to slow down and pay attention.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
The Judge's grandfather had fought with Forrest at Shiloh and throughout the Deep South, and to him no figure in history was more revered. For thirty-two years, the Judge had quietly refused to hold court on July 13, Forrest's birthday.</BLOCKQUOTE>
More about the Judge's age, his heritage, and his career. The title "Judge" is restated. This is also a small info dump for the readers who have no idea who Nathan Bedford Forrest was. By the end of the first paragraph we have a pretty good picture of a character, along with the unresolved question of what "it" is -- giving us a reason to read on to paragraph two.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
It came with another letter, a magazine, and two invoices, and was routinely placed in the law school mailbox of Professor Ray Atlee. </BLOCKQUOTE>
Quite the busy little sentence. "It," still not identified (although we can puzzle out that it must be a letter since it comes with "another letter"), leads us to our second character. Professor Ray Atlee has a name as well as a title, we know that he's in a law school. The connection with the previous paragraph, aside from the letter itself, is that "Judge" is a legal title.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
He recognized it immediately since such envelopes had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember.</BLOCKQUOTE>
"He" here is Ray Atlee, our second character. "It" is the letter, probably "The Summons." (Summons, too, is a legal term.) We learn now who it was who was seeing the Judge pecking away at that Underwood -- it was Ray, who got that flash when he saw the envelope.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
It was from his father, a man he too called the Judge.</BLOCKQUOTE>
Relationship between the two characters, characterization, implication of a cold upbringing. We're filling in Ray, too.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Professor Atlee studied the envelope, uncertain whether he should open it right there or wait a moment. </BLOCKQUOTE>
We're a bit formal with Ray, for now. We don't know him as well as we know the Judge. We're also reinforcing that he's got some social standing, as a professor. And we're getting a feeling of doubt. Should he open the envelope? Why wouldn't he? Why the hesitation? Suspense. While Ray is being introduced here, he's still sharing the stage with that envelope.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Good news or bad, he never knew with the Judge, though the old man was dying and good news had been rare. </BLOCKQUOTE>
An important fact. We knew the Judge was feeble and hunched. and old. Now he's dying. We still don't know what's in that envelope.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
It was thin and appeared to contain only one sheet of paper; nothing unusual about that. </BLOCKQUOTE>
We're back to calling the envelope "it," just as in the first word of the novel. We're beginning to put a lot of weight on that envelope. We're also seeing more of the envelope; thin, but not unusual. An object of significance, particularly if we consider that it's probably the title object.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
The Judge was frugal with the written word, though he'd once been known for his windy lectures from the bench.</BLOCKQUOTE>
More characterization of the Judge, pulling us away from Ray. And so we end paragraph two, a second character introduced but the focus firmly on the Judge (and his envelope). So ends paragraph four.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
It was a business letter, that much was certain. </BLOCKQUOTE>
Focus back on the letter, once again "It."
<BLOCKQUOTE>
The Judge was not one for small talk, hated gossip and idle chitchat, whether written or spoken. </BLOCKQUOTE>
Characterization. The sentence, by itself, is clumsy, and will slow a reader down. The pacing here is important. The author wants this information to be absorbed.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Ice tea with him on the porch would be a refighting of the Civil War, probably at Shiloh, where he would once again lay all blame for the Confederate defeat at the shiny, untouched boots of General Pierre G. T. Beauregard, a man he would hate even in heaven, if by chance they met there.</BLOCKQUOTE>
The paragraph ends with a long, complex sentence, characterization of a man living in the past, with a hint of a question of whether the Judge would go to heaven when he died.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
He'd be dead soon.</BLOCKQUOTE>
Very short, very punchy, particularly when contrasted with the last sentence of the previous paragraph. We already had this information, now the author restates it, far more vividly than "the old man was dying." We're all dying ... but for most of us it's not going to be "soon." This is a great paragraph lead-off sentence. The impact is greater here, after we'd already been introduced, than it would have been had this sentence been used as the first sentence of the first paragraph.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Seventy-nine years old with cancer in his stomach.</BLOCKQUOTE>
Short, punchy, purely factual. Giving hard data to the impressions the readers already had.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
He was overweight, a diabetic, a heavy pipe smoker, had a bad heart that had survived three attacks, and a host of lesser ailments that had tormented him for twenty years and were now finally closing in for the kill. </BLOCKQUOTE>
"Tormented him for twenty years." We're feeling sympathetic for the Judge now, after an unsympathetic portrayal up to this point. This is also a long, rambling sentence after the previous two body-blows, giving the reader time to catch his breath.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
The pain was constant.</BLOCKQUOTE>
After that breather, a quick jab. Reinforces the pain motif.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
During their last phone call three weeks earlier, a call initiated by Ray because the Judge thought long distance was a rip-off, the old man sounded weak and strained.</BLOCKQUOTE>
Reinforcing the old-fashioned anti-tech ways of the Judge, putting in some characterization on Ray and the Judge's relationship. Spreads the story out to more than just this moment ... whatever's been going on we have a human time scale. Twenty years, seventy-nine years, since the Civil War -- those are too long for a reader's mind to wrap around. Three weeks -- that's doable.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
They had talked for less than two minutes.
</BLOCKQUOTE>
Characterization, reveals their relationship.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
The return address was gold-embossed: Chancellor Reuben V. Atlee, 25 Chancery District, Ford County Courthouse, Clanton, Mississippi. </BLOCKQUOTE>
Finally, the Judge has a name, and we're given a very specific location, rather than the vague South. Once again, we're focused on the envelope, as we have been at the beginning of four of the five previous paragraphs. Gold-embossed tells us about the character, and his social station.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Ray slid the envelope into the magazine and began walking. </BLOCKQUOTE>
Aren't we going to open that envelope? The suspense! Plus a bit of characterization -- he doesn't want to touch or look at the envelope.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Judge Atlee no longer held the office of chancellor.</BLOCKQUOTE>
Ah -- but he's still using the old stationery. Frugal (we already have been told he is), or is it vanity, or pride? Those are deadly sins.
<BLOCKQUOTE>
The voters had retired him nine years earlier; a bitter defeat from which he would never recover.
</BLOCKQUOTE>
Ah. It's pride. A bit more history, too. It isn't the stomach cancer that's killing him -- it's his electoral defeat. The source of his pain?
<BLOCKQUOTE>
Thirty-two years of diligent service to his people, and they tossed him out in favor of a younger man with ra-</BLOCKQUOTE>
Thirty-two years of honoring Nathan Bedford Forrest.
More on the source of the Judge's discontent. And here we are, at the bottom of page two of the printed book, and that darned envelope
still hasn't been opened.
Okay, show of hands -- how many of you want to turn the page and find out what happens next?
We have two characters -- the Judge and Ray -- and one object, the envelope (The Summons). We have a pretty good idea of one location -- and it isn't the location where the envelope and Ray are standing, even though it looks like Ray will be the viewpoint character. All of the information we've gotten about the Judge could well have come from his head, summoned up by the view of the Summons in his academic mailbox.
That's a rockin' opening, guys. Nothing wasted.
Go you and do likewise.
