Chapter 1

Unlike most novels, this one does not begin with the introduction of a main character. There is no "Call me Ishmael" here, no Nick Carraway to act as a colored mirror through which the protoganist is filtered, no letters to Mrs. Saville to structure a frame-story within, no psychologically disturbed young man walking out onto a St. Petersburg street one hot July evening; in fact, the beginning of this novel is unlike the beginning of any other novel published because it fails to do what all beginnings ought to do -- and that is, to begin something. This introduction does not set anything in motion. It sets up no climate, no scene, and no character. The reader does not know if it was the best of times, or the worst of times. The reader, in fact, can't even discern whether or not this is fiction at all, except to trust that the work is calling itself a novel, and isn't lying. The author does not even make an appearance here to explain what he is trying to do, preferring to lurk back in the deep shadows of a completely detached third-person omniscient perspective, although his voice certainly pervades the entire work like thick, yellow fog.

However, there is a catch, caught most likely by only the most discerning literary critics, because, contrary to what the words say above, a case can be made that the beginning of this novel does indeed introduce a major character. In fact, the careful reader will realize that this first chapter does nothing but introduce the most major character in the entire book, as long as one is willing to read the word "character" none-too-literally. This character is, of course, the unshakeably self-conscious, self-knowing, and self-reflecting nature of almost every single bit of prose throughout. It is this Oroborus-like "character" of the text, of the language, and of the plot that makes this novel unlike any other, and thus this beginning suffices merrily to introduce that point. (Oroborus, by the way, is the idea of a snake eating its own tail; more generally, it is the ontological concept of self-devouring self-knowledge.)

So, having introduced the novel's first and most important character, Chapter 1 fulfills its purpose and, short as it is, must come to a close. The reader will be delighted, however, that the story appears to continue (or begin anew, whatever) in the following chapter.

Influences: Adaptation (Charlie Kaufman); A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius (Dave Eggers); The History Of The Adventures Of Joseph Andrews, And His Friend Mr. Abraham Adams (Henry Fielding)