First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros is a weekly meme hosted by Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea every Tuesday. To participate share the opening paragraph or two of a book you've decided to read based on that paragraph. This book was highlighted in the Shelf Awareness newsletter I receive in my email a few times a week. I've read some of Doctorow's book in the past and really enjoyed them. This book caught my attention because of its unique, creative nature. My copy is an ARC. The book hasn't been published yet but is due to come out sometime next week. I hope I enjoy it as much as I expect too!
Don't forget to drop by Bibliophile By the Sea to read Diane's selection this week and find out who else is participating in this fun meme! You'll probably get some good book titles, too!
E. L. Doctorow
I can tell you about my friend Andrew, the cognitive scientist. But it's not pretty. One evening he appeared with an infant in his arms at the door of his ex-wife, Martha. Because Briony, his lovely young wife after Martha, had died.
We'll get to that. I can't do this alone, Andrew said, as Martha stared at him from the open doorway. It happened to have been snowing that night, and Martha was transfixed by the soft creature-like snowflakes alighting on Andrew's NY Yankees hat brim. Martha was like that, enrapt by the peripheral things as if setting them to music. Even in ordinary times, she was slow to respond, looking at you with her large dark rolling protuberant eyes. Then the smile would come. or the nod, or the shake of the head. Meanwhile the heat from her home drifted through the open door and fogged up Andrew's eyeglasses. He stood there behind his foggy lenses like a blind man in the snowfall and was without volition when at least she reached out, gently took the swaddled infant from him, stepped back, and closed the door in his face.
This was where?
Martha lived then in New Rochelle, a suburb of New York, in a neighborhood of large homes of different styles _ Tudor, Dutch Colonial, Greek Revival - most of them built in the 1920's and 30's, houses set back from the street with tall old Norway maples the predominant trees. Andrew ran to his car and came back with a baby carrier, a valise, two plastic bags filled with baby needs. He banged on the door: Martha, Martha! She is six month's old, she has a name, she has a birth certificate. I have it here, open the door please, Martha. I am not abandoning my daughter, I just need some help, I need help!
What do you think? Would you keep reading?