A great first line of a novel is a bit like a walk-off home run: It’s utterly unforgettable on its own merit, but it also helps recall, associatively, images of the whole. Think Joe Carter’s home run in Game 6 in 1993, and suddenly it’s pretty easy to remember other details – Mitch Williams and his sweet mullet walking dejectedly off the field, that this was the Blue Jays’ second World Series win in a row, that this was the last World Series game for two years because of the strike, etc.
Literaturewise, even if you’ve never read the novel, you know this: “Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins.” And you surely know the story. What else does it make you think about? Wait, don’t answer that.
Anyway, IJ’s first line is certainly one of those that sears itself into memory: “I’m seated in an office, surrounded by heads and bodies.” From literally the first moment of the novel, DFW reveals a major theme he’s going to spend the next 1,079 pages discussing: drug addicts' disassociation from reality. Of course, the heads and bodies aren't unanchored and floating as it may seem if read literally - it's just a unique way to say that there were a lot of people in the room. And, sometime in 2011, when I'm finished reading this doorstop of a book, "heads and bodies" will certainly be a catalyst to fond memories.
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