My favourite first pages: to enjoy, not to rank

If, like me, you have said the above five words (yes, contractions count as one word) about a highly-regarded book then you may feel guilty because you 'should' appreciate it. I hold this to be utter nonsense: the dichotomy between high and low art is invalid, and the only purpose of reading in one's limited discretionary time is entertainment (I'm talking to those who have finished school here: I am well aware that university reading lists are valid though they are not fun and I do not mean to decry them). Having said all of that, I have thoroughly enjoyed several books which took me a while to get into, so I wanted to share that information in context.

The train to Brighton

I am no ladykiller, but around my twenty-first year I found myself in conversation with a stunningly beautiful girl who happened to be on the same train as me. She had torn her ankle ligaments practising dynamic yoga, a discussion of which (via the related topic of tantra) led to her making me promise to read Tom Robbins' Still Life with Woodpecker. Had I happened upon it without being honour-bound to read it I might never have gotten past the first page, so discordant was the style - but after a few pages I found myself able to follow it, and ultimately it was a good read.

My Canadian sister

The eldest and brightest of a large and varied clan, I naturally looked up to my big(gest-rhymes-with-best) sister, and I recall that it was she who put me onto Margaret Atwood. At the time, my home town of Brighton was not yet commercially redeveloped in keeping with its promised city status, and many centrally located units were in limbo. Such a one was the bookshop of Captain Firetrap, a character straight from the pen of Ronald Searle: tall, besuited by Saville Row and in possession of a large stock of second-hand books classified under a system apparently known to and understood by him alone. He sold me a copy of The Robber Bride, and from a baroque opening a most engaging story ultimately emerged.

The Book of Dave by Will Self, in which the past echoes in the future just as the story echoes in the author's other books, turned me into a big fan. It was hard to get into because it is written in Mockney, ware ve spelling system is reely different - far more so than in the Molesworth books, for instance, but then were Molesworth to appear he would be speaking Arpee. I was pleased to see Stephen Collins' design for the e-reader of the future including a 'language fanciness' toggle, with Will Self at one extreme and Dan Brown at the other (check it out at colillo.com).