There is something magical about the opening line of an author’s first novel. Like the initial sip of a vintage from a brand new winery, when done well, an opening line intrigues you, draws you in and entices you to read further. When done badly, it can be like a big swig of watery vinegar. The first sentence in “Boxer, Beetle,” is a real corker: “In idle moments I sometimes like to close my eyes and imagine Joseph Goebbels’ forty-third birthday party.” ...