In the deepest heart of England there is a place where everything is at fault. That is to say that the land rests upon a fault; and there, ancient rocks are sent hurtling from the deep to the surface of the earth with such force that they break free like oceanic waves, or like monstrous sea-creatures coming up for air. Some say that the land has still to settle and that it continues to roil and breathe fumes, and that out of these fumes pour stories. Others are confident that the old volcanoes are long dead, and that all its tales are told.
Of course, everything depends on who is telling the story. It always does. I have a story and though there are considerable parts I’ve had to imagine, the way I saw it was as follows.
– Graham Joyce, Some Kind of Fairy Tale
This is one of those stories that sticks in your head long after finishing the novel. The opening sets a tone that the story will be about something deep and old in the earth. It also hints at a mystery surrounding the story’s narrator, one that lingers throughout the novel. There is even a hint of conflict, namely whether this narrator is trustworthy. But enough of my thoughts – let me know what you think about the opening passage of Some Kind of Fairy Tale.