First Chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros is a weekly feature hosted by I’d Rather Be at the Beach where you share the first paragraph or two of a book that you’re currently reading or planning to read soon.
I won’t be taking part in this feature every week but at least once a month, if not fortnightly.
First paragraph: In a village in La Mancha, the name of which I cannot quite recall, there lived not long ago one of those country gentlemen or hidalgos who keep a lance in a rack, an ancient leather shield, a scrawny hack and a greyhound for coursing. A stew with rather more shin of beef than leg of lamb, the leftovers for supper most nights, lardy eggs on Saturdays, lentil broth on Fridays, and an occasional pigeon as a Sunday treat ate up three-quarters of his income. The rest went on a cape of black broadcloth, with breeches of velvet and slippers to match for holy days, and on weekdays he walked proudly in the finest homespun. He maintained a housekeeper the wrong side of forty, a niece the right side of twenty and a jack of all trades who was as good at saddling the nag as plying the pruning shears. Our hidalgo himself was nearly fifty; he had a robust constitution, dried up flesh and a withered face, and he was an early riser and a keen huntsman. His surname’s said to have been Quixada or Quesada (as if he were a jawbone, or cheesecake): concerning this detail there’s some discrepancy among the authors who have written on the subject, although a credible conjecture does suggest he might have been a plaintive Quexana. But this doesn’t matter much, as far as our little tale’s concerned, provided that the narrator doesn’t stray one inch from the truth.
Ooft, look at this beast of an opening paragraph. I’ve read a few different translations of this opening before and while they all have similar points to make, they are wildly different from one another.
Does this first paragraph intrigue you or does it leave you feeling cold? Share your thoughts!
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