Let’s begin quite naturally at the beginning. We’re just a few pages into a novel, still unsure what conflict or pressure or thrust is about to appear. We’ve been introduced to a young woman, and we’re on a Greek island, which is certainly sporting enough for me. Soon enough we’re settled in for a tranquil but rather dull summer holiday with her family. And once that young woman leaves the page, we’re stuck with her father and step-mother:
“It’s not always a question of problems. Even if she has a few, she’s hardly alone. Everyone has problems.”
“That’s like saying everyone gets headaches.”
An old conversation, many times repeated, and it could rile him easily with its obvious futility.
The headache comment results in a little stutter, but it’s a nice touch in its dullness: the most intriguing analogies in any story come directly from the characters. We picture the analogy, yet we also learn more about the character. A few muddled or unexplained words in the opening of a novel also keep the pages moving. The writer creates an artificial why with the unsettled or unspoken or unknown—a little confusion, a little mystery, a little hesitation, isn’t necessarily bad in the beginning of a novel, even when it looks like a flaw in the writing. One reason to keep reading is to solve these riddles.
And now we know that these two characters have a longstanding relationship, and that the daughter, and her problems, is one item of regular discussion. Let’s continue along and see what comes next.
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