Next First Line Starts with Impending Death

In the ever increasing, and almost becoming unmanageable, first lines category - my series dedicated to the first lines I read since so many writers, including the one referenced in last weeks posts, consider first lines of top five importance - I have another.

This one, has to fall into the very good to great category. It sure grabbed my attention.


A MAN WITH BINOCULARS. That is how it began: with a man standing by the side of the road, on a crest overlooking a small Arizona town, on a winter night. Lieutenant Roger Shawn must have found the binoculars difficult. The metal would be cold, and he would be clumsy in his fur parka and heavy gloves. His breath, hissing out into the moonlit air, would have fogged the lenses. He would be forced to pause to wipe them frequently, using a stubby gloved finger. 

He could not have known the futility of this action. Binoculars were worthless to see into that town and uncover its secrets. He would have been astonished to learn that the men who finally succeeded used instruments a million times more powerful than binoculars. 

There is something sad, foolish, and human in the image of Shawn leaning against a boulder, propping his arms on it, and holding the binoculars to his eyes. Though cumbersome, the binoculars would at least feel comfortable and familiar in his hands. It would be one of the last familiar sensations before his death. We can imagine, and

Crichton, Michael - The Andromeda Strain

I suppose anytime an author can work in that the character he's just introduced the reader to is about to die, it is going to a pretty interesting ride.