The (not so) hypothetical problem:
Let’s say we are tasked with choosing items from a big list of things. A really, really big list. Assuming we can’t choose all the things, we make decisions about which of those things to include. If the list is very big and if we haven’t seen or can’t possibly go over the entire list then we need to begin somewhere, sampling the items and trying to decide what to include. This task, we decide, is guided by artistry, ahead of utility (because we are not programmers scraping every instance of our query and running an algorithm to generate the output for us).
The actual problem:
When choosing first lines from literature, at first blush our choices are guided by partiality. There are all sorts of things that determine our partiality, and being open minded people we decide that we need to be wary of our partiality lest we become opinionated. And because we care about first lines we give our lines some care and attention. So we question our partiality and ask ourselves some hard questions. For example:
Is this a good first line?
What makes a good first line?
Do I like this first line merely because it is by an author I really like and I really liked the book?
Does the line resound with me because it reminds me of that time in Venice, in spring, when because I was busy reading the book that has the first line I now like I missed the train and I met my first love…?
Do I like this first line because on borrowed authority someone said it is the best or one of the best and so I gain some cultural and social or intellectual capital by agreeing?
Do I like this first line because, like someone explaining an artwork that otherwise escapes my appreciation but which explanation arouses my appreciation, I read a really compelling article that made a strong case for a first line’s artistry? (Such articles do exist.)
Or,
Why do I just really like this line?
So many questions.
One of those questions seems, to this humble curator anyway, to be a good starting point.
What makes a good first line?
Here are a couple of suggestions:
1) A first line may prove to be great when, in the tradition of “a story well told” we find in the seed of that first line elements of the story that follows. These elements are somehow reflected by the first line in the body of the story and crystallised in the end. This is a lot of work for a first line and probably realistically belongs to an establishing paragraph, page, or chapter and the editor here struggles to find any examples which do all this heavy lifting, but there are many that come close.
2) A first line may be good when it quickly establishes the tone of what follows, captures the reader and pulls them in. Or is just really catchy.
I’m partial to both these “arguments”. There is after all no correct way to appreciate a first line in literature, and there are as many ways to appreciate first lines as there are ways to write a story.
So, to recap and explicate the implications of the above; there are as many first lines in books and stories as there are works of fiction. Though many of the first lines on this site are from “literature”, the editor doesn’t differentiate too much between genres. However, there are some loose standards, as this is not a repository for every fictional work ever published, but ultimately a means to show and appreciate how books and stories begin. In essence it’s about appreciating writing.
But also, if you search and filter through the lines you may discover some interesting connections - (try typing “day_” into the search field, for example, and notice whether “day” as a kind of beginning is an overall cheery, positive thing).