Dark and stormy night
IT'S THAT time of year for the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest – also known as the Dark and Stormy Night Awards – when mainly American and Canadian writers compete to produce the most overblown introduction to an imaginary novel.
Grand prize winner this year is (flourish of trumpets) Professor Sue Fondrie, of the University of Wisconsin, who has managed to condense her bad introduction into 26 words, which is of record brevity in this competition which has been organised by the English Department at San Jose State University, California, for the past 29 years.
Her winning introduction: "Cheryl's mind turned like the vanes of a wind-powered turbine, chopping her sparrow-like thoughts into bloody pieces that fell onto a growing pile of forgotten memories."
The contest takes its name from the Victorian novelist Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who began his book, Paul Clifford, with: "It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents - except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."
Overall runner-up is Rodney Reed: "As I stood among the ransacked ruin that had been my home, surveying the aftermath of the senseless horrors and atrocities that had been perpetrated on my family and everything I hold dear, I swore to myself that no matter where I had to go, no matter what I had to do or endure, I would find the man who did this ... and when I did, when I did, oh, there would be words."
In the Adventure category, Jack Barry: "From the limbs of ancient live oaks moccasins hung like fat black sausages - which are sometimes called poudin noir, black pudding or blood pudding, though why anyone would refer to a sausage as pudding is hard to understand and it is even more difficult to divine why a person would knowingly eat something made from dried blood in the first place - but be that as it may, our tale is of voodoo and foul murder, not disgusting food."
It grabs you, makes you want to read on. Some more humdingers:
· "Wearily approaching the murder scene of Jeannie and Quentin Rose and needing to determine if this was the handiwork of the Scented Strangler - who had a twisted affinity for spraying his victims with his signature raspberry cologne - or that of a copycat, burnt-out insomniac detective Sonny Kirkland was sure of one thing: he'd have to stop and smell the Roses."
· "The victim was a short man, with a face full of contradictions: amalgam, composite, dental porcelain, with both precious and non-precious metals all competing for space in a mouth that was open, bloody, terrifying, gaping, exposing a clean set of asymptomatic impacted wisdom teeth, but clearly the object of some very comprehensive dental care, thought Dirk Graply, world-famous womaniser, tough guy, detective, and former dentist."
· "As the dark and mysterious stranger approached, Angela bit her lip anxiously, hoping with every nerve, cell, and fibre of her being that this would be the one man who would understand—who would take her away from all this—and who would not just squeeze her boob and make a loud honking noise, as all the others had."
· "Dawn crept up like the panther on the gazelle, except it was light, not dark like a panther, and a panther, though quiet, could never be as silent as the light of dawn, so really the analogy doesn't hold up well, as cool as it sounds, but it still is a great way to begin a story; just not necessarily this particular one."
Oh, great stuff! Literature is alive and well in North America.
Tailpiece
A DOCTOR is testing the mental agility of three elderly men at a retirement centre.
He says to the first: "What's three times three?"
"Two hundred and seventy-four."
To the second: "It's your turn. What's three times three?"
"Tuesday.".
The doctor, sadly to the third: "Okay, your turn. What's three times three"?
"Nine."
"Splendid! How did you get that?"
"I just subtracted 274 from Tuesday."
Last word
There are two ways to slide easily through life; to believe everything or to doubt everything. Both ways save us from thinking.
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