Oh gatekeeper of the book, will you ever allow us in to your garden of mystery and delight? Wait, what does “epigraph” mean again…? Oh.

A good epigraph should be more than mere adornment. Better to think of it as a lens – or a sucker punch. Indeed, the very presence of an epigraph can make us question what lies before us. Playful or authoritative, omnipotent or throwaway, it acts as a kind of shadowy third figure, somewhere between the author and the audience.

With its privileged position at the gateway to the text, the epigraph is, of course, open to abuse. Authors may add random passages from the Bible in the quest for portent; Shakespearean couplets to add a little erudition; sections from Lewis Carroll to conjure that missing air of mystery. There’s nothing inherently wrong with using such favourites – just don’t expect to make up for what’s lacking further in.

I’ve just spent the last few days collecting epigraph possibilities for my new book. If used judiciously, they can be consumed deliciously (see what I did there?), but too often they feel like either a needless self-indulgent opening monologue or a strategic linking of the author’s name to someone smarter and more eloquent. (How can you hate my book?! I used Shakespeare as a epigraph! OBSCURE Shakespeare!) Anyway, I’d never given it much thought, but I think I’ve narrowed it down to two.