A hook works. It gets your attention — much like a curvy and sharply pointed steel object sunk into your flesh gets your attention.
Captain Hook’s hook was that he had a hook. Dr. Hook had two hooks — that blackguard with the eye patch and the bouncy humor in their songs.
Books have hooks.
Good crime books have hooks and crooks.
Sign Up and Save
Get six months of free digital access to The Telegraph
Good crime books about gorgeous chefs catering a chess championship at a pastoral British inn that is robbed by thieves too stupid to duck when running to their getaway helicopter have hooks, looks, cooks, brooks, crooks, schnooks and Chinooks.
How’s this for a hook: The dead scrabbled for an entrance to his grave. His wife was among them.
That’s the beginning of Bentley Little’s horror novel “The Rising.” What a hook! After I read that opening in the sample I had downloaded, I immediately went back to amazon.com and bought the full book. It’s the only time I’ve ever done that.
Terry Pratchett had a unique hook: His novels contain footnotes.
Some hooks are literal. The hook in Lee Child’s Jack Reacher series is the left and right hooks Reacher throws, along with the uppercuts, head-butts, groin kicks and elbows to the face. No character fights hand-to-hand as much as Reacher, and no author can describe a fight as clearly and excitingly as Child.
I’ve never read any of the Harry Potter books, but I have a good guess what their hook is: The lemming population is ever on the increase.
As even you might have guessed, this column’s hook was hooks. You were hooked, weren’t you? Sure you were. I bet you and your goldendoodle simultaneously said, “How hooky.”
Pinch, poke, you owe that dog a Coke.