Bother Francis Gerard of Utah might never have discovered the blessed documents, had it not been for the pilgrim with girded loins who appeared during that young novice’s Lenten fast in the desert.
I write this as someone who loves that book: that sentence is exactly the sort the editor/judge of the contest would probably classify as being kinda bad, yes, but also too likely to actually hook a reader to be a worthy entrant.
"Brother Gerard of Utah", "might never have discovered", "blessed" paired with the humorously cold and vague "documents", "girded loins" (just inherently funny, not exactly bad), "that" being just far enough removed from its referent that it reads awkwardly.
This all happens in part because (I'm pretty sure) it is supposed to read as kinda funny, because it's leaning into often-groan-worthy sci-fi tropes ("of Utah") but just happens to be one of the rare good books that does that, and because it is just a little less tightly-written than it might be. The combo's pretty amusing, but also too good for the contest.
And at least two more recent books followed that up with "It was bright blue", as that's what many modern digital TVs show rather than the grey analog static Gibson was referring to. I love Gibson's line, but it's the sort of thing that will need to be explained by a footnote the way Dickens' description of a ghost in "A Christmas Carol" as glowing "like a bad lobster in a dark cellar" is today.
I believe Gibson actually did mean that bright blue. If memory serves his TV at the time didn't do grey analog static, and he generalized somewhat hastily.
I knew what this was as soon as I read "Brother Francis." This sentence is indeed a fitting counter-example to Lyttle Lyton. The whole book is beautifully crafted.
Bother Francis Gerard of Utah might never have discovered the blessed documents, had it not been for the pilgrim with girded loins who appeared during that young novice’s Lenten fast in the desert.
From "A Canticle for Liebowitz"