Book Meme

My friend Julia tagged me for a fun book meme. I've played this one before, but it's been a long time. Here are the rules:

1. Grab the nearest book of 123 pages or more.

2. Open it to page 123.

3. Find the first 5 sentences and write them down.

4. Then invite 5 friends to do the same.

Well, since I'm sitting at my desk, and my desk is next to a set of bookshelves, there are lots of "nearest books." But Freddy's Book by John Gardner was at the top of the nearest pile, so I grabbed it.




I haven't read it yet, but I've read three other books by John Gardner: On Becoming a Novelist and The Art of Fiction, which are two of the best books for writers that I have ever read, and his excellent and moving novel Grendel, a retelling of the Beowulf myth from the monster's point of view.

A fascinating interview with John Gardner is available from The Paris Review, where you can download the whole thing. Here are some tidbits:

• I think that the difference right now between good art and bad art is that the good artists are the people who are, is on way or another, creating, out of deep and honest concern, a vision of life in the twentieth century that is worth pursuing. And the bad artists, of whom there are many, are whining or moaning or staring, because it's fashionable, into the dark abyss.


• The point is realism of imagination, convincingness of imagination. The novelist pursues questions, and pursues them thoroughly.


• When you write fiction such as mine, fastastic or quasi-realistic fiction, it happens inevitably that as you're going over it, thinking about it, you recognize unconscious symbols bubbling up to the surface, and you begin to revise to give them room, sort of nudge them into sight.

Okay, back to Freddy's Book and the meme. The blurb inside the front cover reads:

"In a gloomy mansion in Madison, Wisconsin, a sheltered and sensitive young man slips a visiting professor his secret manuscript -- a staggering and beautiful fantasy of kings, knights, knaves and fools, a rich tale of timeless battles with the Devil himself over power and destiny."

Now, I'll get the book in my hot little hands, turn to page 123... and here are the first five sentences:

"Sweat broke out on the face, and the flesh became puffy and dark, then burst open, dripping blood and fat. Even as he dreamed, he understood why it was that her expression never changed -- showed no pain, no rage, no fear of the Lord, only that terrible, mystical blankness like indifference; he was seeing not the burning of a living witch but his memory of those burning corpses on Södermalm hill.

"When he awakened in the morning he was weak and heavy-limbed, as if he hadn't slept at all. The bed beside him was empty, and he somehow knew at once that Liv had risen hours ago and gone down to help with breakfast and start her day. From somewhere outside, beyond the windowless, stone walls, came the sharp sound of iron striking iron -- someone shoeing a horse, perhaps, or clumsily hammering the iron band on a cartwheel."

Whom to tag, whom to tag... okey dokey: Dorothy, Bunnygirl, Susan, Michael, and Kimmi, y'all are it!