Next week, please join me for five full days of Giller, one sighting a day for each of the titles nominated for this year’s prize: Joseph Boyden for Through Black Spruce, Anthony De Sa for Barnacle Love, Marina Endicott for Good to a Fault, Rawi Hage for Cockroach, and Mary Swan for The Boys in the Trees.

This is the second of two weeks during which I respond to some of my first page sightings. I note only the first sentence, and structure my response to use the same number of words.

Here we go!

Yonge Line at Union Station

Caucasian male, late 20s, wearing black suit and overcoat, a black Nike gym bag slung across his chest.

The Cellist of Sarajevo, Steven Galloway (Knopf)

Page one:

Arrow blinks.

Doggy, doggy.

Next week, please join me for five full days of Giller, one sighting a day for each of the titles nominated for this year’s prize: Joseph Boyden for Through Black Spruce, Anthony De Sa for Barnacle Love, Marina Endicott for Good to a Fault, Rawi Hage for Cockroach, and Mary Swan for The Boys in the Trees.

This is the second of two weeks during which I respond to some of my first page sightings. I note only the first sentence, and structure my response to use the same number of words.

Here we go!

Bloor Line at Dundas West Station

Caucasian female, mid 20s, with long brown hair and tanned complexion, wearing black jeans, fleece, and Blundstones.

The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne (Oneworld Classics)

Page one:

A throng of bearded men, in sad-coloured garments and grey steeple-crowned hats, inter-mixed with women, some wearing hoods, and others bareheaded, was assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes.

The students sat cross-legged on the gymnasium floor, hands in their laps, some rocking bum cheek to bum cheek, crouched in anticipation for the launch of the Space Shuttle Challenger, one of their own strapped inside, looking to the sky, ready for everything.

Dani Couture’s blog
Animal Effigy
Northern Poetry Review 

(Originally published November 12, 2007)

Spadina streetcar, four readers rocking in a row

Asian woman, early 20s, wearing blue and red knitted cap, jean jacket under black vest and jeans rolled high over black biker boots.

Ticknor, Sheila Heti (House of Anansi Press)

Page 65:

Today I can’t get anyone who knows him to agree with any of my criticisms. At the time, this wasn’t my problem. Now pretty much nobody can be brought to see it from my side of things. I don’t expect it. When he has made a mistake, all he can do is move forward. Probably they will not invite me again.

She stands outside the apartment door, plastic bag in hand, knotted tight to hide the raised cork. The bottle is half-drained, a sidebar session in the subway washroom when she realized that he’d be there, talking. Talking about politics. Talking about war. Talking about things that matter to her. Things she promised herself she wouldn’t talk about anymore at parties because she becomes That Girl. The one who talks about politics at parties. The one who reacts to what you say.

Sometimes, I see readers just as they’re beginning a book. Fresh from the store. Page one. Sentence one. I can’t help but wonder which synapses fire, where are they taken upon that first introduction? To borrow the maxim “It’s not the size that matters, it’s how you use it,” this week and next, I thought I’d have some fun. Each entry will contain only the first sentence from the book along with my one sentence response. I’ve even charged myself the task of using the same number of words.

Wish me luck!

Spadina streetcar

Caucasian male, mid 30s, with short black hair and stubble, wearing black jeans, black turtleneck, and grey pinstriped suit jacket.

The Origin of Species, Nino Ricci (Doubleday)

Page one:

The girl standing in the foyer when Alex went down to get his mail, trembling slightly on her cane, was Esther.

His mother’s poodle is named after Esther, his great aunt who left the monastery in her 50s to study reproductive medicine.