Follow Friday - 40 CFR Part 268 Outlines Federal Land Disposal Restrictions

It's Friday again, and this means it's time for Follow Friday. There has been a slight change to the format, as now there are two Follow Friday hosts blogs and a single Follow Friday Featured Blogger each week. To join the fun and make now book blogger friends, just follow these simple rules:

1. Follow both of the Follow My Book Blog Friday Hosts (Parajunkee and Alison Can Read) and any one else you want to follow on the list.
2. Follow the Featured Blogger of the week - Flavia the Bibliophile.
3. Put your Blog name and URL in the Linky thing.
4. Grab the button up there and place it in a post, this post is for people to find a place to say hi in your comments.
5. Follow, follow, follow as many as you can, as many as you want, or just follow a few. The whole point is to make new friends and find new blogs. Also, don't just follow, comment and say hi. Another blogger might not know you are a new follower if you don't say "Hi".
6. If someone comments and says they are following you, be a dear and follow back. Spread the love . . . and the followers.
7. If you want to show the link list, just follow the link below the entries and copy and paste it within your post!
8. If you're new to the Follow Friday Hop, comment and let me know, so I can stop by and check out your blog!

And now for the Follow Friday Question: What is your favorite opening scene?

From Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban:

On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld board he parbly ben the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. He dint make the groun shake nor nothing like that when he come on to my spear he wernt all that big plus he lookit poorly. He done the reqwyrt he ternt all that big plus he lookit poorly. He done the rush and there we wer then. Him on 1 end of the spear kicking his life out and me on the other end watching him dy. I said, 'Your tern now my tern later'. The other spears gone in then and he wer dead and the steam coming up off him in the rain and we all yelt, 'Offert!'

The woal thing fealt just that littl bit stupid. Us running that boar thru that las littl scrump of woodling with the forms all round. Cows mooing sheap baaing cocks crowing and us foraging our las boar in a thin grey girzel on the day I come a man.

The Bernt Arse pack ben follering just out of bow shot. When the shout gone up ther ears all prickt up. Ther leader he we a big black and red spottit dog he come forit a littl like he ben going to make a speach or some thing til 1 or 2 bloaks uppit bow then he splumpt back aghen and kep his farness follering us bak. I took noatis of that leader tho, He wernt close a nuff for me to see his eyes but I thot his eye ben on me.

The book is a post-apocalyptic tale that is written entirely in this style. The cant, which served as the inspiration for the speech patterns of the desert children in Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, is a degenerate form of English that has evolved in the ruins of civilization. The story is intense, and made more so by the stylized language used to tell it, which requires a level of concentration from the reader that many other books do not. This makes the book a difficult read, and this opening scene sets that up well, but it is worth the effort.

For a more conventionally written, but equally intense opening scene, here is the first paragraph's of A.S. King's brilliant novel Please Ignore Vera Dietz (read review):

The pastor is saying something about how Charlie was a free spirit. He was and he wasn't. He was free because on the inside he was tied up in knots. He lived hard because inside he was dying. Charlie made inner conflict look delicious.

The pastor is saying something about Charlie's vivacious and intense personality. I picture Charlie inside the white coffin, McDonald's napkin in one hand, felt-tipped pen in the other, scribbling, "Tell that guy to kiss my white vivacious ass. He never met me." I picture him crumpling the note and eating it. I picture him reaching for his Zippo lighter and setting it alight, right there in the box. I see the congregation, teary-eyed, suddenly distracted by the rising smoke seeping through the seams.

Is it okay to hate a dead kid? Even if I loved him once? Even if he was my best friend? Is it okay to hate him for being dead?

Previous Follow Friday: There Is Almost Nothing Interesting About the Number 267

Subsequent Follow Friday: Saint Valentine Was (Possibly) Executed in 269 A.D.

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