'I am simply a 'book drunkard.' Books have the same irresistible temptation for me that liquor has for its devotee. I cannot withstand them.' L.M. Montgomery

'There are no faster or firmer friendships than those formed between people who love the same books.' Irving Stone

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

First Chapter, First Paragraph Tuesday

Every Tuesday Diane over @ Bibliophile By the Sea host First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros where we share the first paragraph sometimes two from a book we are reading or thinking about reading soon. 

  There was nothing between here and North America but a heaving, ceaseless ocean. Two thousand miles of emptiness. This small, desolate bay had been caressed and battered by the unfettered seas since the beginning of time. Sometimes the waves could even claw at the cliff tops. Boulders lay at their base, the debris of an endless struggle between raw sea and rock. Today, though, there was a truce. Today the water gently lapped the shore. But even on the best of days the wind still tugged the hair and murmured in the ear.
  The old woman moved hesitantly across the stones. The smooth, round rocks rolled against each other unsettling her step. She had not been here in more than half a century and yet she lived so close that the sounds of the shore were with her every morning when she woke and every night when she slipped to sleep.
  The rocks sloped up in a dune behind her before being lost in the reeds and ferns, which in turn were overwhelmed by the grass and heather of the moorland. From the cliffs above, the stones were a smear of off-white between the dark of the sea and the green of the land. Standing on them on the shore they were every shade of white and grey, with speckles of pink, blue and ochre glinting even in an overcast light. The prehistoric history of the island was ingrained in these rocks.
  Rain clouds smirred the horizon, but for now the grey mists above were content to drift on. A froth floated on the tide, a remnant of the most recent storm. The white of the foam was stark against the slate of the sea as it swelled against the cliffs and stroked the shore.
  Had it been like this on that awful morning when The Skipper scanned the shoreline? Had he sat where she was now? What was it that had made him look? A movement maybe, a stirring that disturbed the rhythm of the tide? Had it been the dying spasm of her baby before the old man lifted his tiny body from the sea?

I know that's more than one or two paragraphs, but I just couldn't stop there! Doesn't this sound good? I'm reading this book next. Set in the Scottish Hebrides. Looking forward to it. What say you? Keep reading or no?

Peggy Ann


  1. The setting and the old woman make me want to know more. Thanks for sharing...and for visiting my blog.

  2. I can just see that scene! It leaves me wanting to know more...

  3. Such vivid descriptions, Peggy; I love the setting, too. I hope you enjoy this one!!

  4. I feel like I'm right there reading the paragraphs you shared. It's no wonder you wanted to share more than one. I'm glad you did. :-)

  5. I'm curious for a few more pages -- sounds like a good one.

  6. That intro makes me want to know more.

  7. It does make me want to know more and I'd keep reading.

  8. You'll not be able to stop yourself from reading on! What is your new header a view of? It looks gorgeous.

    1. I'm going to have self control and read Thirteen Guests by Farjeon first as I have to get that reviewed for Netgalley, Katrina! the pic is one I took just out in the countryside in TN. when we were looking at houses. Those are the Appalachians/Smoky Mts.


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