Every chapter begins with a simple sentence.
Not only does the chapter begin with a simple sentence, but that sentence gets its own paragraph. When I was in sixth grade, and a budding student of literature and writing, that struck me as the coolest thing ever. I was a new minted Dungeon Master, and I was just beginning to appreciate the value of a good hook – starting a story in a way that right from the start the audience was engrossed in the story – and that simple sentence hanging nakedly alone in its own paragraph struck me as the most refined elegant razor sharp stick-it-in-the-audience’s-gut-and-twist hook imaginable. No possible prose approach was as laser honed to the point as that. Those sentences just reached out and grabbed you. There was no way not to read the next sentence. They sliced into your consciousness. They almost always involved in media res action. “The dying slave lay screaming in the courtyard.” Full stop. Not only full stop, but take a breath and consider that scene. I was awed. My little sixth grade self said to myself, “Now that is style!”
I still have quite a bit of admiration for it. While my tastes have evolved to preferring highly natural language so that the author’s craft becomes all but invisible on the page and never reminds you that it is a product of craft, of all the slightly pretentious attempts at style I’ve ever seen, this is the most forgivable and the least tiresome. I’d be happy, in my own writing, to pull a Feist opening from time to time. Just like a Vonnegut paragraph gets old quickly, I wouldn’t open like this with every chapter, but as a starting point of how you should begin a chapter, this is a very good starting point.
“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
“Call me Ishmael.”
“The dying slave lay screaming in the courtyard.”
Obviously, you can play a bit with the format – Austin’s thought requires not only an extra clause but an adverb - but if anyone has ever assimilated the lesson that the opening line should be simple, unadorned, and sharp and put it to practice – it’s Feist. By the way, don’t let anyone ever tell you that you should delete your adverbs. Try them out. If it sounds better without the adverb, you can get rid of it. Otherwise, keep your adverb and fling it in the face of those that believe that writing well is just a matter of following their format. Paring down your thought to a point is good, but just as the wood worker frequently regrets the last bit he tries to whittle from the wood, you’ll find that paring too far breaks the thought.
I wanted to comment on the opening sentences in the review I made of “Magician: Apprentice”, but I couldn’t fit the idea into the narrative about how the story of “Magician” came to be without cluttering both ideas. Fortunately, the novel is broken into two books, allowing me to make two very different reviews. One should view “Apprentice” and “Master” as being the same novel, and when reviewing “Magician: Apprentice” I was really reviewing both books,
Feist generally doesn’t wrap up his stories as elegantly as he opens them, and this is still obviously a first novel. Various flaws – Marty Stu characters, continual Deus Ex Machina, inconsistent pacing, anticlimaxes - prevent the story of Magician from being a true masterpiece, but it is still enjoyable, and important story in the fantasy canon, and very much worth the time of the reader – especially a younger one. Once again, I can’t praise the concepts in the character of Tomas Ashen-Shugar enough. I suspect here many of the flaws come from Feist following too much the template of Tolkien without understanding that Tolkien’s anticlimaxes and Deus Ex Machina were deliberate subversions of the normal approach to structuring a story – and most especially an epic - undertaken with a conscious purpose, in much the same way that a great author knows when the time has come to use an adverb. Feist over uses those ideas in a story far less suited to them.
The last area that deserves to be addressed is the issue of sexism in the story raised by several other reviewers, and by that I mean, "Is Feist’s story sexist?" Every single female character in the story exists as a love interest for one of the main characters. All are cut from the same cloth – feisty, playful, and sexually aggressive. At no point does Feist’s story pass the Bechtel test. No female character is ever a character in her own right who rises to the level of being a protagonist.
And you know what, I don’t freaking care. Yes, quite obviously, Feist is creating female characters that represent his own romantic desires in a woman. Yes, quite obviously, none of these characters is well developed or exists beyond being objects of romantic and sexual attraction for the male characters, and to provide space to think about how the male character feels about such attraction. But in and of itself, that’s not sexist – that just means that Feist is a heterosexual male who at the time is more interested in exploring his own desires in a partner than he is in imagining characters from a feminine perspective, and he’s not only perfectly entitled to do that but it’s perfectly healthy for him to do so. No one bothers judging works on the basis of a reverse Bechtel test – two men have a meaningful conversation with each other that doesn’t involve women. No one bothers to judge whether a romance pitched at women has men as independent characters that exist outside their romantic relationship with the female protagonist, or whether those characters are realistic portrayals of male emotional desire and male inner complexity.
If they did think that way, they might have to notice that things like ‘Gilmore Girls’ don’t pass the reverse tests, and there are an endless number of bodice rippers and romances with brooding emo strong but sensitive men that exist not as real characters but solely to provide for women to explore their feelings and desires toward men. And that’s OK. Despite whole seasons going by where two men don’t have a meaningful conversation with each other that doesn’t involve their relationship to a woman, I’m a fan of ‘Gilmore Girls’. I watched every season when it first came out. I loved almost everything about it, and the thing that I didn’t love about it was how ultimately sexist the portrayal of women seemed in the story. I can’t forgive the writers for disempowering Rory, because as a man watching the story I was ‘Team Rory’, and I wasn’t going to be happy unless she was happy and found someone to share life with worthy of her. Rory as overgrown girl-child, lost in the world, not understanding herself, and selling herself cheaply isn’t a Rory I’m happy with. Damn you writers.
And if people did think that way, if they thought men and women could share each other’s interests and be entertained, they might have to notice that women quite happily read male centered stories like The Lord of the Rings and Magician without the slightest feeling of being disempowered or angry at the lack of a representative self, because they aren’t necessarily looking for a hero that looks just like them in every story, but sometimes for awesome manly men they are happy to swoon over. Or maybe, even a story where they are interested in the same ideas that the writer was, whether the story is male centered or not.
When I first started participating in the online Tolkien community, I was surprised to discover not only how many female fans there were, but just how many female fans were ‘Team Merry’ or ‘Team Pippin’ or (perhaps less surprised) ‘Team Faramir’. Yes, of course, you find women that swoon over Mr. Darcy, but the other side of this story is that although Elizabeth Bennett is a more fully fleshed out character, the basic template of the character is not that different than a Princess Anita of Krondor or Éowyn. There is a very big difference between writing from a male or female perspective, and writing a sexist story. Feist has written an obviously male centered story, but it’s not a sexist story. It’s just as story written by a man. Get over it.