Recently, a statement in a BBC article by Hephzibah Anderson about the all-important first line of a novel caught my eye: “We frontload our expectations, insisting that a handful of words must contain the DNA of all that is to come, encapsulating the conflict of a 300-page story.” Those are very high stakes for a single sentence.
Whether or not you believe it’s necessary for a first line to encapsulate an entire story, is it even possible? In this first of a series that examines opening lines, let’s look at just how much we as writers can hope to convey in our novels or short stories in that single opening sentence.
Let’s start with the widely anthologized short story, “A Rose for Emily” written by William Faulkner in 1930. If you haven’t read it, there are spoilers ahead. If you’ve been reluctant to read Faulkner due to his fabled stream-of-consciousness style, you’ll be relieved to know that the story uses traditional sentence structure.
Faulkner’s story relates the tale of Emily Grierson. At the beginning, Miss Emily has died and the town turns out for the funeral. We learn that she never paid property taxes, her home once emitted a terrible smell, and that following the death of her domineering father she courted a Yankee day laborer who later disappeared. These facts are a source of irritation for the town of Jefferson, a former flower of the Old South. At the end of the story, the funeral-goers enter Miss Emily’s house and discover the corpse of her long-dead sweetheart.
Here’s the first sentence:
When Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old manservant – a combined gardener and cook – had seen in at least ten years.
Just how much of the story is alluded to in the first line? What sort of information does Faulkner provide to the reader?
First, Faulkner introduces his main character with her full name. The “Miss” informs the reader that she is unmarried, and also demonstrates the protagonist’s gentility with a polite naming convention practiced by Southern society.
The second half of the sentence identifies Emily’s place in that society. The narrator says “our whole town went to her funeral.” The use of “our whole town” instead of “the whole town” aligns the narrator, and therefore the reader, with the greater society of Jefferson, of which Miss Emily appears not to be a part. It hints that she’s outside the mainstream, a situation further underscored by how the women of the town attend the funeral not out of personal connection but “mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house.”
The first sentence continues by describing Miss Emily as “a fallen monument.” There’s a dehumanizing element to the description since monuments generally represent or memorialize an event in history, making her seem remote or removed. It indicates that she symbolizes an era passed, toppled and replaced by a new regime. Monuments are also typically made of unyielding materials like metal or stone. They are cold and hard, hinting at her personality. The word “fallen” harkens to angels dragged from their lofty perches, and of women who transgress pervading sexual mores. It’s a brilliant, oblique foreshadowing of Emily’s relationship with the corpse of her former lover.
The end of the sentence mentions Emily’s manservant, alluding to the family’s wealth and privilege. The fact that the servant does a combination of jobs, however, indicates that the Grierson household has fallen from its former glory onto hard times.
Thus, Faulkner’s first line multi-tasks crucial story elements like character, setting, mood, theme, and plot. He presents the personality of the main character as a stubborn but respected spinster. He sketches a setting in the noble, traditional South fallen on hard times. He sets a mysterious and judgmental mood that ties into a theme of decay and rejection of the Old South. And he hooks the curiosity of the reader with a plot question of why Emily disappeared from public view for a decade, and what the townspeople will see when they enter the house, all in a mere fifty-six words.
I don’t know about you, but I’ll be re-examining all of my story openings.
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