David Knopf: If that first sentence doesn’t cut it, the book is shelved

It’s a simple method I have for choosing books, but it works.

I depend on it when books don’t appear on the kitchen table because my wife, the librarian, knows what I like and gets it for me.

Words like “noir,” “mystery,” “thriller,” “dark humor” etc., give her a valuable head start in the selecting.

It’s part of her job at work to keep up with books and know which ones are supposed to be good. She helps order them, so she stays abreast of things in the trade magazines.

At home, she keeps up with popular culture and what people are saying about such and such an author or such and such a book. Then, like magic – everything in my world seems to happen magically – a new one shows up to allay my anxiety about running out of books.

As you might expect, my own method of choosing them is less orderly. Yet there is method to my whimsy.

It used to be I could tell if I liked a book just by reading the first paragraph. But through years of practice and growing efficiency, I’ve gotten it down to a sentence.

It’s not fool-proof, I suppose, because a book can have a sharply focused first sentence and then become a verbose stinker by page two.

But 95 percent of the time, my instincts are good and a first sentence that seems to be a winner is a good indication of what’s ahead.

My preference is for writing that’s unadorned and doesn’t spin its wheels in the mire of purposeless description.

An example is the book I plucked from the new releases shelf at the library. It had the word “noir” in the title – as in “night” or “darkness” – but it wasn’t just the title that got me.

“Cambodia Noir,” the first novel by Nick Seeley, was released this year.

It opened with a diary entry that was very direct.

The first sentence: Airports kill me.

I liked it, and of course, I agreed with him. I’d drive 18 hours just to avoid going through the parking, security and sardine dehumanization involved in commercial flight.

But then there was the first chapter, the clincher.

The first sentence contained a word that may be unfit for newspapers, so I’ve omitted some language:

Seeley started by saying that he was once good at his job.

He continued: Most guys act like there’s some big secret to shooting news, but ....90 percent of everything is just being there. I was always there.

You might be thinking, “Knopf’s a photographer and works for a newspaper. Of course he’s going to like that book!”

A book could be about me – it could have previously unpublished pin-up photos of Bridgitte Bardot – and I wouldn’t read it if the author needed a 42-word first sentence to show off his florid description and nuances of feeling.

Back on the shelf it would go – “noir” in the title, photographer as the central character or not.

When I picked out “Cambodia Noir,” I’d gone through three tall bookcases of new releases. I used titles and cover art as a first step in the winnowing process, then got to first sentences – kind of the George W. Bushian decider.

The only other book to survive the cut was “The Passenger,” 2016 fiction by Lisa Lutz, described as “the New York Times best-selling author of the Spellman Files series.”

I’ll let you in on a secret: About every new book at the library is described that way and has won some prestigious award such as an Oscar or an Alvin.

I had no idea there were so many outstanding novelists.

But “The Passenger” passed the test with a dark opener:

When I found my husband at the bottom of the stairs, I tried to resuscitate him before I ever considered disposing of the body.

Twenty-four words of cold-hearted, clinical detachment. Not quite Seeley’s three-word Airports kill me, but good, nonetheless.

It wasn’t always so easy for me. First, I had to escape the clutches of academia.

You can put years between yourself and classes with titles like “Literary Criticism and the Faulknerian Tradition” – maybe even hang a degree or two on the wall – before the evil spell dissipates and you can enjoy reading again.

I’d read all the classics, all the most meaningful books ever written, and analyzed the life right out of them, when all that really mattered was reading for the two E’s: enjoyment and escape.

And being knocked to your knees by diamond-sharp first sentences.

I’m where I want to be now and thankful. Airports kill me and I’m wondering just how Lisa Lutz’s heroine will dispose of that body.

This story was originally published July 27, 2016 at 11:07 AM with the headline "David Knopf: If that first sentence doesn’t cut it, the book is shelved."