Superstar Opening Paragraphs Transform Good Books into Great Reads
Every now and then you come across a zinger-of-an opening paragraph in a book that compels you to continue reading with great zeal. I can remember back when I was a boy, thumbing through one of my Hardy Boys mysteries in earnest, relishing each character, setting and clue and as they unfolded before my eyes. I haven’t forgotten how impactful those first impressions were, and how if the book didn’t grab me at the beginning, I would replace that tome with another, more engaging read.
I was cleaning out my office the other day when I came across a tattered edition of What Makes Sammy Run? by Budd Shulberg. It’s been one of my favorite books over the years. Something about the setting (Hollywood), the characters (so common, so real) and the dialog (so quotable), as well as the profound life lessons sprinkled throughout the work.
I opened the novel and read the first paragraph:
The first time I saw him he couldn’t have been much more than sixteen years old, a little ferret of a kid, sharp and quick. Sammy Glick. Used to run copy for me. Always ran. Always looked thirsty.
Wow. This is almost everything we need to know about the main subject of the novel without really knowing anything about him.
Then my mind got to thinking about other books and alternative opening paragraphs. I flipped open another favorite book of mine, Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha:
Suppose that you and I were sitting in a quiet room overlooking a garden, chatting and sipping at our cups of green tea while we talked about something that happened a long while ago, and I said to you, “That afternoon when I met so-and-so…was the very best afternoon of my life, and also the very worst afternoon.” I expect you might put down your teacup and say, “Well, now which was it? Was it the best or the worst? Because it can’t possibly have been both!” Ordinarily I’d have to laugh at myself and agree with you. But the truth is that the afternoon when I met Mr. Tanaka Ichiro really was the best and the worst of my life. He seemed so fascinating to me, even the fish smell on his hands was a kind of perfume. If I had never known him, I’m sure I would not have become a geisha.
Another stunner of an opening paragraph can be found in J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye:
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.
And who can forget this memorable, single line opening paragraph from Ray Bradbury’s novel, Fahrenheit 451:
It was a pleasure to burn.
A well-written opening paragraph hooks the reader and jetisons them further into the book. Often times great opening paragraphs become etched into a reader’s mind long after a book is finished. Isn’t that what helps separates a good book from a great read? I think so.


