How To Start A Story 1: Don't Mention The Weather

Christopher Fowler
Rain It's usually a bad sign when a novel opens with a description of the weather. With so many ways available of capturing the reader's attention, why start with one we can all see? The exception is the famous opening of 'Bleak House' (which I parodied in the opening of 'The Burning Man'), because Dickens manages to surprise within a few words with his image of a dinosaur through Holborn's mud. But literary weather, signs of it, omens and portents, feature in everything from 'Jane Eyre' to 'The Ancient Mariner'. In the story 'The Wood-For-The-Trees', Phillip Macdonald describes an English rural landscape, grey tinged with a black sky, and makes us jump when a 'florin-sized raindrop' smacks onto a seat. It's a warning of sinister troubles to come and works beautifully. Weather creates mood and implies safety, danger, coming trouble; I use it a lot in the Bryant & May series. Londoners have a great many words for rain. Skies are usually so occluded that they drain all colour from the landscape, so you have to make the characters colourful. London's summer weather is the very definition of instability, and the pattern is always the same; clear skies in the evening followed by a warm day, then unbearable mugginess and a downpour. The character of the nation is similarly unstable; rarely calm, too fidgety, often unsettled. Weather changes people. We are frequently tempted to describe natives of the Northern hemispheres as 'dour' - yet they soon become warm-hearted and kind after 'warming' to someone new. They invite them in. We constantly apply hot and cold adjectives to people. The long hot summer days in the countries of the Med, steady and fiercely bright, are reflected in the relaxed manner of people who belie their image as 'hot blooded Latins' (with the exception of voluble, twitchy urban Italians). Fiestas, feasts and Catholic celebrations in hot countries feature open-air events predicated around reliable weather, while in inclement countries religious days are held inside and pass unmarked by fireworks or bonfires. And so religious attitudes change. Weather affects everything yet is often overlooked as a writing tool. The image of the Aussie or Texas gathering may be a barbecue, while in England it's tea, where the concept of a barbecue is something that involves half a dozen people sheltering in a doorway while one man in a rain-mac waves a lighter at wet charcoal. Thus is national character formed. England is an indoor society; it talks to itself about ideas. Characters in Victorian novels over-share their feelings (and in many modern New York novels too). My fascination and annoyance with weather is one reason why I've pretty much always lived in two countries; Light and shade, heat and rain create opposing moods that powerfully affect what we write about. Extreme heat, which I've been dealing with in 'The Sand Men', is as frightening as any flood or storm. In 'Just The Very Thing They Wanted' by Dino Buzatti a touring couple visit a small town in the merciless heat and find themselves denied the most basic human rights: to sit down, to drink, to rest. It's a disturbing image to anyone who has been overtired and miles from home. In 'Kolymsky Heights' by Lionel Davidson, extreme cold changes the character of the hero. Shakespeare could use weather as a weapon. Take this passage from King Lear; Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou all-shaking thunder Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world! The curse of the writer is cliche, and the weather brings out the worst in many. Yet weather descriptions are useful and can be made fresh by the writer simply noting what she smells, sees and tastes in different weathers. Rain in London smells of wet stone. Hot days in Latin countries smell of vegetable matter, food, sewers, flowers. Yet it's surprising how few writers trust their senses to describe atmospheric conditions. So unless you have a genuinely unique way of perceiving weather conditions, don't open a book with it. Thunderclouds


Richie (not verified) Mon, 22/06/2015 - 07:31

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

In a wonderful book by Samuel R Delany the protagonist, having made his way to Earth, is held in a windowless prison cell for a while. When released he sees the pavements are wet and realises it has rained, a phenomenon he has read about and always longed to experience. He has to leave for home immediately and deeply regrets his loss.
You never look at rain again in the same way!

Jackie Hayles (not verified) Mon, 22/06/2015 - 08:28

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

The pervasive damp in The Water Room is a character in its own right and Bryant and May are often dripping wet! Sherlock Holmes stories are usually set in a foggy, cold London, which suits the underlying menace of their world. The sun and shadows in Nyctophobia are equally menacing, though. Weather really does affect mood and character, in fiction as in the outer world, like an artist's palette of colours which are used to guide perception.

Rh (not verified) Mon, 22/06/2015 - 13:16

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

It was only when teaching English abroad in a culture where they basically say it's hot or cold that it struck me how many English adjectives for weather are linked to the kitchen... Maybe it's the only stretch they could make away from the smirr... !

Vivienne (not verified) Mon, 22/06/2015 - 18:42

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

Is there a hint in the picture that Wimbledon is close? The purple and green, the rain...

Helen Martin (not verified) Mon, 22/06/2015 - 18:51

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

I was reading through the alphabet (had to be an author I hadn't read before) and was looking through the rather slim Q section when I came across a Turkish book - don't remember the author but the title of part of the trilogy was The Iron Founder. It started off with steady rain in a birch wood and a rider heading home. The rain kept up until you wanted to wring out your clothes and the rider got wetter and wetter. His boot was filling with blood and that dripped to the ground along with the rain. He arrived at a walled house and rode into the courtyard with the rain dripping and bouncing off the cobbles. No one appeared, the place was silent except for the rain. I did not read the rest of the book although I have a feeling it was probably masterful writing but it ws summer and I just couldn't face a book full of rain.

George Mealor (not verified) Tue, 23/06/2015 - 03:39

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

"The Long Rain" a short story by Ray Bradbury was a horror story that's always stuck with me. It was originally published as "Death-by-Rain."

chazza (not verified) Tue, 23/06/2015 - 10:03

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

Two contrasting weather-based openers which drew me right in:-
1.Ted Lewis -"Jack's return home" - "The rain rained".
2.Arthur Machen - "The hill of dreams" - ""There was a glow in the sky as if great furnace doors were opened."

Consequently, always love weather-based openers!

Vivienne (not verified) Tue, 23/06/2015 - 10:57

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

Mentioned before, in an earlier post I'm sure, but A Fatal Inversion by Barbara Vine is the only book I know that is set in the heatwave summer of 1976. Captured that long, rare English hot summer perfectly and the heat was as much part of the plot as anything.

Helen Martin (not verified) Tue, 23/06/2015 - 19:33

In reply to by anonymous_stub (not verified)

When the weather is part of the plot, like that Turkish novel and the Barbara Vine, then it really doesn't count as an opening, more like the introduction of a character.If the Bradbury is the one my husband just reminded me of (Venus with a promised break in the rain and those who miss it) then that is another one.