I've copied & pasted the opening of my new novel about JtR below. Any opinions/observations? The book's still in the revision stage but the opening's very important, especially as the book may have to stay Kindle-only. The format here has taken out my indented paragraphs & some italics.
SW
When she was still called Mrs Kraski, Mrs Kraski would complain to me about her late husband, saying that he never changed, but was exactly the same man all through their life together.
‘When he proposed to me, he said that he was steady,’ she protested; ‘as if steady was what a romantic girl dreamed of.’
‘Then why did you accept his proposal?’ I would ask her.
‘Oh, because he was so handsome. And he had a good job, working for a coffee dealer back in Krakow; and he had saved up lots of money to come here to England. I didn’t know that steady meant that he would never change. Nothing would alter him. Not coffee, or my cooking, or drink, or bad news. Even the pleasures of the bedroom...’
At this point I coughed, to remind her that the pleasures of bedroom should not usually be mentioned in the presence of a priest, except perhaps in the confessional.
‘But was he a good man, Mrs Kraski?’ I would ask. ‘If he was steady in goodness, then surely you shouldn’t complain.’
‘Yes, I suppose he was good,’ she would admit, folding her arms under her large bust, and looking a little downcast.
‘The English have a phrase for a man who doesn’t change,’ I reminded her. ‘It is usually reserved for old men, particularly old bachelors. They say the man is set in his ways.’
As for myself, I think that I have been set in my ways for long periods of my life, but there have also been great changes that have set me into new ways – like a ferryman who crosses the same section of the river every day for years, but then the river dries up, or moves its course, or the ferry-boat is wrecked, or a bridge is built, and the ferryman has to find a new occupation.
The times when the course of my life was truly changed are three in number: my baptism into the Roman Catholic faith at the age of twelve; the time I heard the confession of Jack the Ripper; and the day when I finally succumbed to the charms of Mrs Kraski.
SW
When she was still called Mrs Kraski, Mrs Kraski would complain to me about her late husband, saying that he never changed, but was exactly the same man all through their life together.
‘When he proposed to me, he said that he was steady,’ she protested; ‘as if steady was what a romantic girl dreamed of.’
‘Then why did you accept his proposal?’ I would ask her.
‘Oh, because he was so handsome. And he had a good job, working for a coffee dealer back in Krakow; and he had saved up lots of money to come here to England. I didn’t know that steady meant that he would never change. Nothing would alter him. Not coffee, or my cooking, or drink, or bad news. Even the pleasures of the bedroom...’
At this point I coughed, to remind her that the pleasures of bedroom should not usually be mentioned in the presence of a priest, except perhaps in the confessional.
‘But was he a good man, Mrs Kraski?’ I would ask. ‘If he was steady in goodness, then surely you shouldn’t complain.’
‘Yes, I suppose he was good,’ she would admit, folding her arms under her large bust, and looking a little downcast.
‘The English have a phrase for a man who doesn’t change,’ I reminded her. ‘It is usually reserved for old men, particularly old bachelors. They say the man is set in his ways.’
As for myself, I think that I have been set in my ways for long periods of my life, but there have also been great changes that have set me into new ways – like a ferryman who crosses the same section of the river every day for years, but then the river dries up, or moves its course, or the ferry-boat is wrecked, or a bridge is built, and the ferryman has to find a new occupation.
The times when the course of my life was truly changed are three in number: my baptism into the Roman Catholic faith at the age of twelve; the time I heard the confession of Jack the Ripper; and the day when I finally succumbed to the charms of Mrs Kraski.
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