Complex Numbers

Stark and Dormy

And now, one of my rare posts about actual writing...

    2024 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest  

It is a truth universally acknowledged that of all the bad opening lines of literature, with the possible exception of the one that begins, "It is a truth universally acknowledged," the one that begins, "It was a dark and stormy night" is the nadir of all possible opening lines. This was from Bulwer-Lytton's novel Paul Clifford, about which literally no one outside of academia knows anything apart from the opening line.

Like all truths universally acknowledged, it's not necessarily true. But it still provides the impetus for writers to try to do worse, generally to hilarious effect.

I've posted about this before, I know, but today's entry is about this year's "winners."

Now, you'll have to go to the site to see the Grand Prize Winner. Suffice it to say that I don't agree. It's bad, but not dark-and-stormy-night bad.

I'll do what that site doesn't, which is to first paste the inspiration for the contest, the actual opening line of Paul Clifford (they put it way down the page):

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.

Now, some of my personal favorites:

It was a dark and stormy night, which makes perfect sense when you realize we’re on Neptune, with a mean distance from the Sun of 4.5 billion kilometers (or 30 astronomical units), and winds that howl at 100 meters per second, composed of mostly hydrogen and helium (and only trace amounts of methane), which is way better than Uranus, which stinks to high heaven.
         —Jon A. Bell, Porto, Portugal

Yes, I'd probably have selected that one as the Grand Prize Loser, mostly because I'm sick and tired of seventh-planet puns, but also because of the completely unnecessary science data.

And, of course, I'm quite fond of the Vile Puns section:

"I do enjoy turning a prophet," said Torquemada, as he roasted the heretic seer on a spit.
         —A. R. Templeton, Stratford, Canada

And:

"My laddies may not be the fastest sugar cane harvesters," Fergus confessed, "but they're not as slow as my lasses..."
         —Mark Meiches, Dallas, TX

Just one more; like I said, the page is there to view the other stinkers at your leisure:

Ralf Smalborgson kept a small shop in Direperil, Minnesota, and his goods consisted only of medieval stringed instruments, lanyards and backstays, and some limited apothecary supplies, giving the store its uninviting signage: Lute, Rope, and Pillage.
         —Ciarán McGonagle, Derry, Northern Ireland

Which reminds me of my D&D-adjacent bard, one of whose catchphrases is, "Come on, baby, fight my lyre!"