Actually, I finished The Dead Zone a couple of weeks ago, but haven't had time to sit and write about it since then. Maybe a week ago. Time is passing at a bizarre rate.
Anyway: The Dead Zone. Man with psychic abilities falls into a coma and develops far more refined psychic abilities. Even more amazing is the fact that Stephen King psychically predicts the coming of the Tea Party, except that he calls them the America Now Party--which could very well be the name of the Tea Party. Check this out:
"The America Now party wanted bad trouble for big-time dopers, they wanted the cities to have to sink or swim on their own...they wanted a crackdown on welfare benefits to whores, pimps, bums, and people with a felony busy on their records, they wanted sweeping tax reforms to be paid for by sweeping social services cutbacks." (352 of the 1980 paperback edition).
*shudder*
This novel is an overtly political one, posing the question of what one man can do to stop what he sees as evil. The answer is that he should do something, although the actual result of his actions are not clear. The main character, Johnny Smith, wants to assassinate Greg Stillson, a politician whom he foresees as capable of launching nuclear war. He is unsuccessful in his attempt, but a picture is taken of Stillson trying to protect himself with a baby from the crowd. This photo, it is assumed, tanks his political career. This I found implausible. After all, politicians have shown themselves to be remarkable adept at reviving purportedly dead careers. Stephen King knows this. One word: Nixon (not that Nixon ever used a baby for protection, but his career was thought to be over on more than one occasion).
However, I found this aspect of the novel to be less engaging than the depiction of a man who loses years in a coma. The start of this book talks about the intersection between various characters and the relationships that develop. It made me think about the fact that relationships can actually be understood as narratives: shared narratives created between people and the narratives that they share from earlier in their lives to better understand each other. As Johnny is in the coma, the lives of those around him continue, of course, although they begin to take different trajectories. His girlfriend at the time marries another man. His mother becomes more obsessed with irrational religious movements. His father observes all of this, unable to know what to do. He wants his son to die so that they can go on with their lives, almost as though he recognizes that a part of their lives is stuck and unable to proceed. However, he is grateful when Johnny wakes up from the coma. I found the first part of this book to be far more touching than many Stephen King novels, with much thought to how we understand those around us.
SPOILER ALERT: It turns out that Johnny has a brain tumor, which reminded of The Dark Half for some reason. Considering that I have not read The Dark Half since the late 1980s, that is saying something for the staying power of the visual images I got from that book. I can't quite figure out the exact similarity, but I'm sure that it will be clearer once I reread it!
Firestarter is requested from the library and the next one up.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Long Walk
After taking a post-Stand vacation, it was on to 'The Long Walk' this past weekend. It's a quick read, although apparently it is 384 pages, according to Wikipedia. Felt a lot faster. Maybe everything feels faster after The Stand?
The basic premise behind 'The Long Walk' is that every year, one hundred teenaged boys start walking at the US/Canadian border in Maine and keep going until there is only one survivor. If the participants drop under 4 miles an hour (which is a brisk pace), they are given a warning and after four, they are shot. As I've mentioned before, if Stephen King wants to write novels that are not immediately associated with him, he might want to set them in places other than Maine (this one was also published as a Bachman book). Alternatively, don't go in to extensive detail about Maine in the course of the novel. Just a suggestion.
The story follows Garraty, one of the walkers and the guy who eventually wins the Long Walk (I would have given you a spoiler alert, but surely you already deduced this). However, it is a bittersweet victory because he goes crazy or meets Death or something at the end. Whatever it is, it is not good. There is an earlier implication that winners of the Long Walk do not often survive for long after their victory and the same would seem to be true here.
This novel prefigures reality shows because it's clear that the Long Walk is watched by people throughout the United States. There are some references to the fact that this version of America has a separate history and there are unusual details, such as numerous mentions of April 31. I feel like if you are going to change a calendar, you should go whole hog like in the French Revolution and have months like Thermidor, but that is just me. While some commentators on the internet seem to think that it is set in the future, I'm not sure about that. It's not that far in the future, I don't think. Most things seem quite normal, apart from the fact that there is a guy named the Major who runs things and entities called Squads that keep order (or something, their role is not clearly defined). In fact, that's a potential flaw of this novel: it's not clear why these boys are walking or what purpose this serves. More information about the society would make the story more compelling, at least in my opinion.
I think that the other element of the story that made it a bit repetitious to me was the limit of what you can say about people who are walking to death. Sure, they suffer from pain, but to me these scenes began blending into each other because the characters were constantly suffering from pain. At the same time, I wonder if this didn't provide a rough version of what King had to do in Misery, which was find different ways of explaining pain over time--or else there would not have been much of a story. Describing a repetitive action is hard in prose, it would seem.
This novel struck me as similar to some of his contemporary writing, particularly with the focus on adolescents. Others that are similar: Carrie, Rage, and the short story 'Sometimes They Come Back.' You could put 'Children of the Corn' possibly in this category too. What struck me was that the Long Walk was a representation of what should be the most vital force in society, adolescent males, and their ritualized loss of power on a national scale. It's made clear that the Major runs the Long Walk and it seemed like a means by which he could show the weakness of being human: even these young, fit men could be gunned down and killed if he willed this to be. There were very few dissidents shown who were opposed to the walk; instead, crowds watched and cheered on the participants.
I finished reading this book and writing this blog post while watching NFL football games and I was struck by at least one glaring similarity. Recently, we have learned a lot about the danger of such contact sports, particularly concerning head injuries and the long-term damage that they can do. Yet millions of people still tune in every week to watch men essentially maim themselves on national television. It's no Long Walk and I don't want to imply that it goes that far, but I do find a parallel between the desire to watch and condone such violent acts. Of course, football also displays athleticism and strategy, and the players are paid well for their efforts. The Long Walk strikes me as more of a power-play by a shady, threatened dictator.
The basic premise behind 'The Long Walk' is that every year, one hundred teenaged boys start walking at the US/Canadian border in Maine and keep going until there is only one survivor. If the participants drop under 4 miles an hour (which is a brisk pace), they are given a warning and after four, they are shot. As I've mentioned before, if Stephen King wants to write novels that are not immediately associated with him, he might want to set them in places other than Maine (this one was also published as a Bachman book). Alternatively, don't go in to extensive detail about Maine in the course of the novel. Just a suggestion.
The story follows Garraty, one of the walkers and the guy who eventually wins the Long Walk (I would have given you a spoiler alert, but surely you already deduced this). However, it is a bittersweet victory because he goes crazy or meets Death or something at the end. Whatever it is, it is not good. There is an earlier implication that winners of the Long Walk do not often survive for long after their victory and the same would seem to be true here.
This novel prefigures reality shows because it's clear that the Long Walk is watched by people throughout the United States. There are some references to the fact that this version of America has a separate history and there are unusual details, such as numerous mentions of April 31. I feel like if you are going to change a calendar, you should go whole hog like in the French Revolution and have months like Thermidor, but that is just me. While some commentators on the internet seem to think that it is set in the future, I'm not sure about that. It's not that far in the future, I don't think. Most things seem quite normal, apart from the fact that there is a guy named the Major who runs things and entities called Squads that keep order (or something, their role is not clearly defined). In fact, that's a potential flaw of this novel: it's not clear why these boys are walking or what purpose this serves. More information about the society would make the story more compelling, at least in my opinion.
I think that the other element of the story that made it a bit repetitious to me was the limit of what you can say about people who are walking to death. Sure, they suffer from pain, but to me these scenes began blending into each other because the characters were constantly suffering from pain. At the same time, I wonder if this didn't provide a rough version of what King had to do in Misery, which was find different ways of explaining pain over time--or else there would not have been much of a story. Describing a repetitive action is hard in prose, it would seem.
This novel struck me as similar to some of his contemporary writing, particularly with the focus on adolescents. Others that are similar: Carrie, Rage, and the short story 'Sometimes They Come Back.' You could put 'Children of the Corn' possibly in this category too. What struck me was that the Long Walk was a representation of what should be the most vital force in society, adolescent males, and their ritualized loss of power on a national scale. It's made clear that the Major runs the Long Walk and it seemed like a means by which he could show the weakness of being human: even these young, fit men could be gunned down and killed if he willed this to be. There were very few dissidents shown who were opposed to the walk; instead, crowds watched and cheered on the participants.
I finished reading this book and writing this blog post while watching NFL football games and I was struck by at least one glaring similarity. Recently, we have learned a lot about the danger of such contact sports, particularly concerning head injuries and the long-term damage that they can do. Yet millions of people still tune in every week to watch men essentially maim themselves on national television. It's no Long Walk and I don't want to imply that it goes that far, but I do find a parallel between the desire to watch and condone such violent acts. Of course, football also displays athleticism and strategy, and the players are paid well for their efforts. The Long Walk strikes me as more of a power-play by a shady, threatened dictator.
Monday, September 19, 2011
The Stand: religion
(I believe that this may mark the end of posts on The Stand. We'll see.)
As I mentioned, The Stand, in a way, is a modern religious parable, pitting the Good People against the Bad People. Mother Abigail does not keep her close tie to God secret; we also learn that Tom Cullen, when he is hypnotized, is 'God's Tom.' Most in the Boulder group do not actively believe in God--in fact, their skepticism is made clear--but Mother Abigail considers such outlooks naive. In Las Vegas, Flagg is naturally the opposite and is often considered to be the Devil by those in Boulder (his 'Hand of God,' which actually kills him and destroys civilization, is some less-than-subtle irony). That these positions of good and evil are put forward so explicitly and seemingly without any conflict between them is something unusual in King's works to date. I wonder, though, if he is saying that to create a true religion, one that can bond a society together, it is necessary to start all over.
Until this point, religion did not appear in a positive way in King's books. In Carrie, her mother was overly zealous in her religious beliefs. In 'Salem's Lot, there is Father Callahan, but he must leave the church because he is bitten by Barlow, the head vampire (he will come back much later in the Dark Tower series). Religion was not powerful enough to stop Barlow or even stem his evil. These novels are not encouraging endorsements. 'Children of the Corn' is perhaps the most damning though, as the children of the village consider themselves to be doing the work of God, but in a complete perverse way.
Whether the Boulder people believe in God or not, they were all brought together by a force beyond them: they dreamed of Mother Abigail and sought her out. Perhaps, then, King is claiming that ideas of religion actually stem from encounters with the supernatural, such as the psychic force that Mother Abigail exudes. She is also able to 'see' Flagg (and he can 'see' some of her actions), although she does not know everything that he is doing. At one point, she refers to her gift as the 'Shine.' The esteem felt for her in Boulder suggests that she will become a sort of patron saint for the town as it builds and therefore could be the basis for a new--and perhaps more compassionate--version of the Christian faith.
As I mentioned, The Stand, in a way, is a modern religious parable, pitting the Good People against the Bad People. Mother Abigail does not keep her close tie to God secret; we also learn that Tom Cullen, when he is hypnotized, is 'God's Tom.' Most in the Boulder group do not actively believe in God--in fact, their skepticism is made clear--but Mother Abigail considers such outlooks naive. In Las Vegas, Flagg is naturally the opposite and is often considered to be the Devil by those in Boulder (his 'Hand of God,' which actually kills him and destroys civilization, is some less-than-subtle irony). That these positions of good and evil are put forward so explicitly and seemingly without any conflict between them is something unusual in King's works to date. I wonder, though, if he is saying that to create a true religion, one that can bond a society together, it is necessary to start all over.
Until this point, religion did not appear in a positive way in King's books. In Carrie, her mother was overly zealous in her religious beliefs. In 'Salem's Lot, there is Father Callahan, but he must leave the church because he is bitten by Barlow, the head vampire (he will come back much later in the Dark Tower series). Religion was not powerful enough to stop Barlow or even stem his evil. These novels are not encouraging endorsements. 'Children of the Corn' is perhaps the most damning though, as the children of the village consider themselves to be doing the work of God, but in a complete perverse way.
Whether the Boulder people believe in God or not, they were all brought together by a force beyond them: they dreamed of Mother Abigail and sought her out. Perhaps, then, King is claiming that ideas of religion actually stem from encounters with the supernatural, such as the psychic force that Mother Abigail exudes. She is also able to 'see' Flagg (and he can 'see' some of her actions), although she does not know everything that he is doing. At one point, she refers to her gift as the 'Shine.' The esteem felt for her in Boulder suggests that she will become a sort of patron saint for the town as it builds and therefore could be the basis for a new--and perhaps more compassionate--version of the Christian faith.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
The Stand: Reclaiming disability
If I think back to a common thread in many of the SK books that I read when I was younger, I think that I would say that many of them were about people who were considered losers. Usually, SK dispels this perception by providing insight into the 'loser's' life, showing that there is a reason--often related to abuse or circumstances beyond that person's control. The losers, then, are actually more complex than first glance might show.'
Carrie was also one of these losers, but whatever sympathy was created for her quickly evaporated when she began her rampage. However, she's one of the few. There aren't really losers in 'Salem's Lot, even if there are abused people. Rage exposed some losers, but on the whole, there was a great deal of sympathy and acceptance between the hostages (with one exception, but that one exception was not a loser). These early books lack in such characters.
In The Stand, there are a few people who might fit into the category of losers, but several of them are ostracized in the pre-superflu society due to circumstances beyond their control: they are disabled in various ways. Nick Andros is deaf and dumb, Tom Cullen is 'mildly retarded,' and Trashcan Man suffers from a severe mental disorder. All three play pivotal roles in the book. Nick becomes a leader in the society, then a martyr when he is killed by Harold Lauter's bomb. However, he continues to communicate with Tom Cullen, helping him when he needs assistance.
Flagg's downfall comes from the two other characters: he cannot read the mind of Tom, instead he only sees the moon (Tom is convinced that almost all words are spelled M-O-O-N) and, as I mentioned yesterday, it is Trashcan Man who brings the atomic weapon to Vegas. The characters in Boulder learn that Tom has knowledge that he can share when he is hypnotized and that he knows more than he shows. Therefore, he is the perfect spy. What appears to be a disability, then, is actually an asset, both for Tom and his community. Such reverence for characters who are handicapped becomes a common theme in King's later novels, but this is a new idea in The Stand. I will also put forward that these characters most often appear in his quest-type novels and are integral to the quest succeeding.
Carrie was also one of these losers, but whatever sympathy was created for her quickly evaporated when she began her rampage. However, she's one of the few. There aren't really losers in 'Salem's Lot, even if there are abused people. Rage exposed some losers, but on the whole, there was a great deal of sympathy and acceptance between the hostages (with one exception, but that one exception was not a loser). These early books lack in such characters.
In The Stand, there are a few people who might fit into the category of losers, but several of them are ostracized in the pre-superflu society due to circumstances beyond their control: they are disabled in various ways. Nick Andros is deaf and dumb, Tom Cullen is 'mildly retarded,' and Trashcan Man suffers from a severe mental disorder. All three play pivotal roles in the book. Nick becomes a leader in the society, then a martyr when he is killed by Harold Lauter's bomb. However, he continues to communicate with Tom Cullen, helping him when he needs assistance.
Flagg's downfall comes from the two other characters: he cannot read the mind of Tom, instead he only sees the moon (Tom is convinced that almost all words are spelled M-O-O-N) and, as I mentioned yesterday, it is Trashcan Man who brings the atomic weapon to Vegas. The characters in Boulder learn that Tom has knowledge that he can share when he is hypnotized and that he knows more than he shows. Therefore, he is the perfect spy. What appears to be a disability, then, is actually an asset, both for Tom and his community. Such reverence for characters who are handicapped becomes a common theme in King's later novels, but this is a new idea in The Stand. I will also put forward that these characters most often appear in his quest-type novels and are integral to the quest succeeding.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The Stand: Pride
I'll just come out and say right away that again, I see Nixon reflected in the theme of pride. For pride truly did come before that fall.
Pride is a major topic in The Stand, one that is made explicit as the book goes on. One of the most crucial events that takes place in Boulder occurs when Mother Abigail suddenly leaves the community, purportedly because she has sinned because of pride. She goes to the wilderness to find her way again. Although Mother Abigail may not seem to be particularly prideful, this incident brings the reader's attention to this theme and its prevalence throughout the novel. After all, Captain Trips itself originated in a military lab as an experiment in biological warfare. Those who designed it felt that they had created a facility that could hold the disease without considering the consequences. In other words, the entire book hinges on this idea of pride and what happens after the fall.
As a reversal of pride as a sin, the character of Harold Lauter feels that pride is commendable, as he writes in his diary (Harold is yet another writer in the Stephen King universe, although in this book, he is not the only one since Franny also keeps a diary). His pride blinds him to the opportunities around him since he continues to harbor resentment from his life before the superflu. Furthermore, he does not take pride when he should: he does help the community in Boulder, but doesn't see the value in what he is doing. Instead, his fall comes through Nadine Cross, who convinces him that a more fulfilling life lies with Flagg and that Harold should join her in traveling west. Before they go, though, Harold rigs a homemade bomb that kills several key figures in Boulder, ostensibly because of how they treated him in the past. His pride is not only a sin, it is dangerous. Flagg seems to sense the power that Harold could have, killing him before he reaches Las Vegas.
Nadine is also too prideful and has been her entire life because she senses that she is destined for a greater life with a man in power. Flagg has communicated with her in the past and she has long viewed herself as his intended one. She does not consider any others who could be involved and she is the only one whose first meeting with Mother Abigail is fractious. Nadine is punished for her pride since she is rendered catatonic after her first encounter with Flagg and commits suicide soon afterward.
Of course, Flagg has the most pride of all and this belief in his unassailable power brings his downfall. He feels that he can tame anyone, even Trashcan Man, who has long been a pyromaniac--one who becomes even more dangerous after bringing a nuclear weapon to Vegas as a gift for his master. It is Flagg's 'Hand of God,' a sort of lightning bolt aimed at members of the Boulder Free Zone, that detonates the weapon and annihilates the civilization that he created.
What I found interesting about these depictions of pride and the harm that it caused was that even Flagg was granted this very human attribute. Unlike Sauron in Lord of the Rings--who is a distant, malevolent force--Flagg turns out to be as susceptible to human failings as the characters who follow him. It seems strange that this character of ultimate evil shares such a quality, or does this make him Satan? After all, Lucifer's sin was pride, pride that he was more powerful than God, and for this he was cast down from heaven. The Stand could be read as a modern-day religious parable, especially since there are such clear factions that are drawn. Perhaps King is hearkening back to this story with Flagg and his penchant for pride.
Pride is a major topic in The Stand, one that is made explicit as the book goes on. One of the most crucial events that takes place in Boulder occurs when Mother Abigail suddenly leaves the community, purportedly because she has sinned because of pride. She goes to the wilderness to find her way again. Although Mother Abigail may not seem to be particularly prideful, this incident brings the reader's attention to this theme and its prevalence throughout the novel. After all, Captain Trips itself originated in a military lab as an experiment in biological warfare. Those who designed it felt that they had created a facility that could hold the disease without considering the consequences. In other words, the entire book hinges on this idea of pride and what happens after the fall.
As a reversal of pride as a sin, the character of Harold Lauter feels that pride is commendable, as he writes in his diary (Harold is yet another writer in the Stephen King universe, although in this book, he is not the only one since Franny also keeps a diary). His pride blinds him to the opportunities around him since he continues to harbor resentment from his life before the superflu. Furthermore, he does not take pride when he should: he does help the community in Boulder, but doesn't see the value in what he is doing. Instead, his fall comes through Nadine Cross, who convinces him that a more fulfilling life lies with Flagg and that Harold should join her in traveling west. Before they go, though, Harold rigs a homemade bomb that kills several key figures in Boulder, ostensibly because of how they treated him in the past. His pride is not only a sin, it is dangerous. Flagg seems to sense the power that Harold could have, killing him before he reaches Las Vegas.
Nadine is also too prideful and has been her entire life because she senses that she is destined for a greater life with a man in power. Flagg has communicated with her in the past and she has long viewed herself as his intended one. She does not consider any others who could be involved and she is the only one whose first meeting with Mother Abigail is fractious. Nadine is punished for her pride since she is rendered catatonic after her first encounter with Flagg and commits suicide soon afterward.
Of course, Flagg has the most pride of all and this belief in his unassailable power brings his downfall. He feels that he can tame anyone, even Trashcan Man, who has long been a pyromaniac--one who becomes even more dangerous after bringing a nuclear weapon to Vegas as a gift for his master. It is Flagg's 'Hand of God,' a sort of lightning bolt aimed at members of the Boulder Free Zone, that detonates the weapon and annihilates the civilization that he created.
What I found interesting about these depictions of pride and the harm that it caused was that even Flagg was granted this very human attribute. Unlike Sauron in Lord of the Rings--who is a distant, malevolent force--Flagg turns out to be as susceptible to human failings as the characters who follow him. It seems strange that this character of ultimate evil shares such a quality, or does this make him Satan? After all, Lucifer's sin was pride, pride that he was more powerful than God, and for this he was cast down from heaven. The Stand could be read as a modern-day religious parable, especially since there are such clear factions that are drawn. Perhaps King is hearkening back to this story with Flagg and his penchant for pride.
Friday, September 16, 2011
The Stand: post-apocalypse America
The Stand is divided into three books: the first documents the superflu (also know as Captain Trips), a disease with a 99.4% mortality rate and no known cure, that is gradually taking over the world; the second chronicles the survivors as they travel to either Boulder, CO (good) or Las Vegas, NV (bad); and the third tracks the journey of a band from the Good People to Las Vegas, where they confront the evil Randall Flagg. Flagg is a recurring character in King's books and he is always evil. He also shows up in Eyes of the Dragon and the Dark Tower series. We learn in the extended version of The Stand that he cannot be killed; he is simply reincarnated, which might explain why his death in The Dark Tower was a let-down since he's never really dead (think that over, angry fans). Flagg, in this book, is essentially a modern-day Sauron (Lord of the Rings), a parallel that is made clear when people have visions of an eye looking out at them. Considering that King mentions LOTR several times, the comparison is not hard to make.
Flagg's Vegas is a functioning civilization, but one that is predicated on fear. He punishes people whom he views as dangerous in public and horrible ways. For the most part, while people are scared of him, they do nothing because they feel that in the post-apocalyptic world, a strongman is needed to keep order. In part, this idea makes sense considering the irrational violence and insanity that took hold after the superflu killed off most people--King also documents these incidents in some detail. In part, I think that King is arguing that some people willfully tolerate evil for a sense of security. There are numerous comparisons made to Flagg's Vegas and the Nazis, but I found this idea to be off. I was reminded of Shirley Jackson's story The Lottery--although justifications were given for the torturous, public deaths, there was an element of randomness to them. At one point, one member of society was accused of using drugs and publicly killed. It's impossible to know if he was actually doing drugs or not. This could have been nothing more than a reminder of Flagg's power.
As Flagg is setting up his evil empire in Vegas, the opposite is happening in Boulder, where the Good People are very concerned that a replica USA be established. The first meeting begins with reading the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. Post-apocalyptic America will be founded on the same principles as before the flu, only there is a hope that the same mistakes will not be repeated. Boulder closely resembles a utopia in King's view: much of the detailed organizing and planning takes place during the summer and fall, before the weather gets oppressive, and the people in the Boulder Free Zone (as it is called) seem content and happy. King provides considerable detail about the organized government and law system that emerges. It is hard for me not to see elements of the disillusion felt by Americans during the 1970s here: although it took a horrific superflu to start over again, this 'new America' is much happier, healthier, and shows promise for the future--unlike post-Watergate America recovering from the schismatic Vietnam War. Flagg's Vegas, on the other hand, is as dead as the desert in which it is situated.
At one point, King quotes from Shelley's Ozymandias as the small group from Boulder ventures to Vegas, and I feel that the reference is particularly apt. Imagine Vegas left to its own devices. It would be a testament to the mighty who have fallen. This idea of pride is a predominant theme in the novel as well. Predominant enough that perhaps it will be the topic of tomorrow's blog post.
Flagg's Vegas is a functioning civilization, but one that is predicated on fear. He punishes people whom he views as dangerous in public and horrible ways. For the most part, while people are scared of him, they do nothing because they feel that in the post-apocalyptic world, a strongman is needed to keep order. In part, this idea makes sense considering the irrational violence and insanity that took hold after the superflu killed off most people--King also documents these incidents in some detail. In part, I think that King is arguing that some people willfully tolerate evil for a sense of security. There are numerous comparisons made to Flagg's Vegas and the Nazis, but I found this idea to be off. I was reminded of Shirley Jackson's story The Lottery--although justifications were given for the torturous, public deaths, there was an element of randomness to them. At one point, one member of society was accused of using drugs and publicly killed. It's impossible to know if he was actually doing drugs or not. This could have been nothing more than a reminder of Flagg's power.
As Flagg is setting up his evil empire in Vegas, the opposite is happening in Boulder, where the Good People are very concerned that a replica USA be established. The first meeting begins with reading the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. Post-apocalyptic America will be founded on the same principles as before the flu, only there is a hope that the same mistakes will not be repeated. Boulder closely resembles a utopia in King's view: much of the detailed organizing and planning takes place during the summer and fall, before the weather gets oppressive, and the people in the Boulder Free Zone (as it is called) seem content and happy. King provides considerable detail about the organized government and law system that emerges. It is hard for me not to see elements of the disillusion felt by Americans during the 1970s here: although it took a horrific superflu to start over again, this 'new America' is much happier, healthier, and shows promise for the future--unlike post-Watergate America recovering from the schismatic Vietnam War. Flagg's Vegas, on the other hand, is as dead as the desert in which it is situated.
At one point, King quotes from Shelley's Ozymandias as the small group from Boulder ventures to Vegas, and I feel that the reference is particularly apt. Imagine Vegas left to its own devices. It would be a testament to the mighty who have fallen. This idea of pride is a predominant theme in the novel as well. Predominant enough that perhaps it will be the topic of tomorrow's blog post.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
The Stand, initial reaction
I finished The Stand! It was SUPER long. So long, in fact, that I think I will post observations for the next week or so about the book separately, otherwise I will have a blog post that is of Stand-like proportions. The good news is that it is actually the longest of all of his books (!), so yay. It, with only 10 fewer pages, comes awfully close, though.
My first observation is that I think Stephen King is afraid of cornfields. The rest of us fear the monstrous creatures that live in his imagination. He fears cornfields. In case you didn't get that vibe from 'Children of the Corn,' it is also prominently featured in The Stand, where Randall Flagg faffs around in Nebraskan cornfields, scaring the Good People. Seriously, I am definitely be more afraid of killer clowns in sewers, vampires taking over my town, and haunted hotels possessing caretakers than cornfields.
I did read the New and Improved version of The Stand that was published in 1990. I guess I could have gone back to the Old and Lousy (and shorter by oh, around 300 pages) version from 1978 then compare it to the New and Improved version, but frankly, people, I have a job and can't just spend my whole life reading Stephen King books. While I personally didn't notice any blatant anachronisms (there are some listed on the Wikipedia page, in case this kind of thing concerns you), one did catch my attention: the fact that Trashcan Man had a lobotomy to try and 'cure' his crazy (who is Trashcan Man and why he is crazy will be discussed later. Or maybe not. There is a mini-series of The Stand, you know. It shows up relatively often on ScyFy. And it will only take 6 hours of your life as opposed to the book, which is SUPER long). I found this fact to be almost an anachronism, but a very cool one. In 1978, lobotomies were rare, but this was a recent development--their heyday as a 'cure' for mental illness was during the 1950s and early 1960s. Considering that the revised version of the book is set in 1990, it would mean that Trashcan Man was older than I would guess. I love these kinds of moments when you realize what a different world we live in from the past. Another great example is Philip Roth's book Nemesis, which everyone should rush out and read. You'll be happy to know that it is approximately four times shorter than The Stand. It too is about a killer disease, except that the plot centers around polio and the fear that it could invoke in a 1944, New Jersey community. How things have changed, and how quickly.
I was struck by the parallels between The Stand and The Dark Tower, which are far too numerous to list in one blog post. There is something to be said for The Stand taking place in one of the alternative worlds found in the Dark Tower series; it is mentioned explicitly in Book 4, but there are more parallels than that. I'll try not to get too into these comparisons, but it is hard. One thing that did annoy me about the 1990 version is that every so often, there would be a phrase or word from The Dark Tower and suddenly you would wonder if that was added later; by 1990, he had published Dark Tower books 1-2 and, since 3 came out the next year, he probably had an idea of where that was going. Or maybe not. Maybe he wrote it in two weeks. You never know with this guy. I will think about the intersections between 3 and The Stand when I get there, though, now that I've noticed how close those were in time. One that did hit me was that Mother Abigail referred to Franny's baby as 'the chap,' which is exactly what Susanna does in The Dark Tower, only that her baby is not quite so welcome. I know, I am getting ahead of myself.
What I found most zeitgeisty about The Stand was its unambiguous division into Good People and Bad People. Sure, there were a few on the fence (by which I mean two that were actually developed as characters: Harold Lauter and Nadine Cross), but that was about it. This reminded me of Star Wars, which came out just a year before The Stand. Must have been something about unambiguous depictions of Good and Evil around this time. I was going to jokingly write, 'Let's blame Nixon, shall we?' when I realized that I think that might be part of what Stephen King had in mind here since much of The Stand involves recreating an American society after America has disappeared due to a top-secret government plot gone awry. But that will definitely need to be saved for another day.
My first observation is that I think Stephen King is afraid of cornfields. The rest of us fear the monstrous creatures that live in his imagination. He fears cornfields. In case you didn't get that vibe from 'Children of the Corn,' it is also prominently featured in The Stand, where Randall Flagg faffs around in Nebraskan cornfields, scaring the Good People. Seriously, I am definitely be more afraid of killer clowns in sewers, vampires taking over my town, and haunted hotels possessing caretakers than cornfields.
I did read the New and Improved version of The Stand that was published in 1990. I guess I could have gone back to the Old and Lousy (and shorter by oh, around 300 pages) version from 1978 then compare it to the New and Improved version, but frankly, people, I have a job and can't just spend my whole life reading Stephen King books. While I personally didn't notice any blatant anachronisms (there are some listed on the Wikipedia page, in case this kind of thing concerns you), one did catch my attention: the fact that Trashcan Man had a lobotomy to try and 'cure' his crazy (who is Trashcan Man and why he is crazy will be discussed later. Or maybe not. There is a mini-series of The Stand, you know. It shows up relatively often on ScyFy. And it will only take 6 hours of your life as opposed to the book, which is SUPER long). I found this fact to be almost an anachronism, but a very cool one. In 1978, lobotomies were rare, but this was a recent development--their heyday as a 'cure' for mental illness was during the 1950s and early 1960s. Considering that the revised version of the book is set in 1990, it would mean that Trashcan Man was older than I would guess. I love these kinds of moments when you realize what a different world we live in from the past. Another great example is Philip Roth's book Nemesis, which everyone should rush out and read. You'll be happy to know that it is approximately four times shorter than The Stand. It too is about a killer disease, except that the plot centers around polio and the fear that it could invoke in a 1944, New Jersey community. How things have changed, and how quickly.
I was struck by the parallels between The Stand and The Dark Tower, which are far too numerous to list in one blog post. There is something to be said for The Stand taking place in one of the alternative worlds found in the Dark Tower series; it is mentioned explicitly in Book 4, but there are more parallels than that. I'll try not to get too into these comparisons, but it is hard. One thing that did annoy me about the 1990 version is that every so often, there would be a phrase or word from The Dark Tower and suddenly you would wonder if that was added later; by 1990, he had published Dark Tower books 1-2 and, since 3 came out the next year, he probably had an idea of where that was going. Or maybe not. Maybe he wrote it in two weeks. You never know with this guy. I will think about the intersections between 3 and The Stand when I get there, though, now that I've noticed how close those were in time. One that did hit me was that Mother Abigail referred to Franny's baby as 'the chap,' which is exactly what Susanna does in The Dark Tower, only that her baby is not quite so welcome. I know, I am getting ahead of myself.
What I found most zeitgeisty about The Stand was its unambiguous division into Good People and Bad People. Sure, there were a few on the fence (by which I mean two that were actually developed as characters: Harold Lauter and Nadine Cross), but that was about it. This reminded me of Star Wars, which came out just a year before The Stand. Must have been something about unambiguous depictions of Good and Evil around this time. I was going to jokingly write, 'Let's blame Nixon, shall we?' when I realized that I think that might be part of what Stephen King had in mind here since much of The Stand involves recreating an American society after America has disappeared due to a top-secret government plot gone awry. But that will definitely need to be saved for another day.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Night Shift
Night Shift is a collection of stories that was published in 1978. It is comprised of numerous stories that had been previously published, sometimes in unexpected publications. For instance, did you know that 'Children of the Corn' originally appeared in Penthouse? Random. I decided to go through a play-by-play of the individual stories and my impressions. The foreword, written by King, had a number of interesting observations about writing, horror, and writing about horror. Here is one of my favorite quotes:
I will keep rereading this as I tackle It to remind myself that I should not really believe in psychotic clowns in the sewer. But I did feel that this quote was on point and, as I noted with The Shining, that the story without horror might be even scarier sometimes.
Okay, on to the stories
'Jerusalem's Lot': Here we go, more background for why 'Salem's Lot became the nexus of evil. This story is set in the 1850s and traces the story of Charles Boone, who moves to Maine and learns that his ancestors there were devil-worshiping crazies. In the foreword, King mentions that he feels horror is like stopping to watch a grisly car accident and he claims that even authors who don't make the accident overt, his example is Henry James's The Turn of the Screw, are still drawing on the same effect. This story reminded me of The Turn of the Screw not only because of its vaguely gothic setting, but also because it is narrated at a distance from papers that are found later--although in this case, unlike in the James, the narrator seems reliable.
Also, I was totally vindicated in my claim that 'Salem's Lot was the predecessor for It. Check out this quote:
While It in this case is either a giant, evil worm or James Boon, the Keeper of the giant, evil Worm, it is an underground terror that is destined to repeat itself in the same physical location. Just like a certain clown in the sewer.
'Graveyard Shift': This story didn't scare me. But it was definitely worthy of a Quinn Morgendorfer 'EW!' (if you don't know this reference, then you should take a break from reading this blog and get caught up on some episodes of Daria. I feel pretty confident that you will see Quinn say 'EW!' at least once. Don't worry: I'll still be reading The Stand by the time you get back). If you don't like rats, might I recommend staying away from this one.
'Night Surf': A precursor for The Stand, complete with Captain Trips and everything.
'I Am The Doorway': Man goes into space, apparently gets possessed by space alien that manifests itself through eyes that show up in his body. For some reason, this story reminded me of The Dark Half and parts of the Dark Tower series, both of which have characters that are possessed. From what I recall, The Dark Half also involves an eye somehow. It's been an awfully long time since I read that one, though, so I could be off here.
'The Mangler': Machine is inadvertently fed blood of a virgin and belladonna, then comes alive and wreaks havoc. Really?
'The Boogeyman': Remember that whole Henry James truthiness of the narrator deal? That is completely present here. Either an abusive, angry man killed his three kids. Or a demon did. The ending might lead you to think that there is an actual demon, but I think it's still ambiguous. The protagonist reminded me of an unrepentant Jack Torrence.
'Gray Matter': Somewhat ew, maybe not quite at a Quinn level. Man ingests bacteria, turns into gray blob. Ick.
'Battleground': I found this one kind of weird too. Man receives a package which turns out to be a mini-army that attacks him. Pretty bizarre. Still better than the ironing machine that came to life.
'Trucks': Trucks come to life and essentially enslave humans. I think that most of these stories aren't scary because they are based on some pretty out there premises.
'Sometimes They Come Back': This story contained several themes that emerged in some of King's other works. A child was murdered. There were bullies in a high school. A teacher suffered from a nervous breakdown that cost him a job. Also, there was a theme that will come into later books: attempts to resurrect the dead. I don't want to give too much away (because it will be a big part of Pet Semetary), but I find that King likes to imagine the Orpheus myth in a version that goes terribly, terribly wrong--and unlike in the original, not just for Orpheus.
'Strawberry Spring': Serial killer at college campus is not sure if he is really a serial killer. You sort of see this one coming from a mile away. Incidentally, is 'strawberry spring' really an expression? New one on me.
'The Ledge': I remembered this one from the first time I read this book. This story is cool. Not scary, just cool. This one I am not going to give away, so just be advised that you should check it out. I promise that it is in no way scary, unless you have a fear of pigeons.
'The Lawnmower Man': Servant of Pan comes over to mow lawn, eats clippings, destroys client's house, murders client. So weird. SK probably could have laid off the booze around the time he wrote this story.
'Quitters, Inc.': Another fun story that I remembered from my previous reading. Also not scary. Also recommended.
'I Know What You Need': This story fits into my category of 'stories that would be scarier without the supernatural.' A college woman is essentially stalked by a man who has been 'in love' with her since grade school. However, he resorts to the use of voodoo and has some kind of psychic ability to gauge her needs. Probably even scarier without these elements.
'Children of the Corn': You are probably expecting me to tell you that this story scared me when I was younger, in line with how I usually reacted to scary stories. However, it didn't for some reason. What I do remember about this story is that one of my aunts visited us soon after seeing the movie. To get to our house, we had to drive past numerous cornfields and she kept freaking out.
I have to say, though, that this story did kind of creep me out last night. It would actually work completely without He Who Walks Behind the Rows. Evil children are generally creepy for me in almost any context--I was sufficiently creeped out by the trailers for The Others that I had to stop watching when the commercials came on. For real.
'The Last Rung on the Ladder': More of a reflective story about a woman with a difficult life and losing touch with people until it is too late--the real tragedies, as SK stated in his foreword to this volume.
'The Man Who Loved Flowers': Another serial killer walking around. I didn't see any immediate connections to 'Strawberry Spring,' although it could be possible.
'One for the Road': More Salem's Lot. I think that SK mostly wanted to write a story that featured most dialect in a Maine accent. A few creepy images, but not too bad. Ah-yuh.
'The Woman in the Room': Mostly about loss, specifically the loss of a parent to disease. SK's mother died of cancer and this story captured a lot of the agony that affect those around them. One of the more touching of the stories.
In general, there are definitely some stories to recommend this volume. A few were either too out there or unconvincing, but the best of them save it. Not as much horror as you might anticipate from an SK collection.
That being said, you may want to avoid cornfields on your next long-distance drive.
When you read horror, you don't really believe what you read. You don't believe in vampires, werewolves, trucks that suddenly start up and drive themselves. The horrors that we all do believe in are of the sort that Dostoyevsky and Albee and MacDonald write about: hate, alienation, growing lovelessly old, tottering out into a hostile world on the unsteady legs of adolescence. We are, in our real everyday worlds, often like the masks of Comedy and Tragedy, grinning on the outside, grimacing on the inside. There's a central switching point somewhere inside, a transformer, maybe, where the wires leading from those two masks connect. And that is the place where the horror story so often hits home (xviii)
I will keep rereading this as I tackle It to remind myself that I should not really believe in psychotic clowns in the sewer. But I did feel that this quote was on point and, as I noted with The Shining, that the story without horror might be even scarier sometimes.
Okay, on to the stories
'Jerusalem's Lot': Here we go, more background for why 'Salem's Lot became the nexus of evil. This story is set in the 1850s and traces the story of Charles Boone, who moves to Maine and learns that his ancestors there were devil-worshiping crazies. In the foreword, King mentions that he feels horror is like stopping to watch a grisly car accident and he claims that even authors who don't make the accident overt, his example is Henry James's The Turn of the Screw, are still drawing on the same effect. This story reminded me of The Turn of the Screw not only because of its vaguely gothic setting, but also because it is narrated at a distance from papers that are found later--although in this case, unlike in the James, the narrator seems reliable.
Also, I was totally vindicated in my claim that 'Salem's Lot was the predecessor for It. Check out this quote:
He still lives there somewhere in the twisted, lightless wanderings beneath Jerusalem's Lot and Chapelwaite--and It still lives. The burning of the book thwarted It, but there are still other copies. (37)
While It in this case is either a giant, evil worm or James Boon, the Keeper of the giant, evil Worm, it is an underground terror that is destined to repeat itself in the same physical location. Just like a certain clown in the sewer.
'Graveyard Shift': This story didn't scare me. But it was definitely worthy of a Quinn Morgendorfer 'EW!' (if you don't know this reference, then you should take a break from reading this blog and get caught up on some episodes of Daria. I feel pretty confident that you will see Quinn say 'EW!' at least once. Don't worry: I'll still be reading The Stand by the time you get back). If you don't like rats, might I recommend staying away from this one.
'Night Surf': A precursor for The Stand, complete with Captain Trips and everything.
'I Am The Doorway': Man goes into space, apparently gets possessed by space alien that manifests itself through eyes that show up in his body. For some reason, this story reminded me of The Dark Half and parts of the Dark Tower series, both of which have characters that are possessed. From what I recall, The Dark Half also involves an eye somehow. It's been an awfully long time since I read that one, though, so I could be off here.
'The Mangler': Machine is inadvertently fed blood of a virgin and belladonna, then comes alive and wreaks havoc. Really?
'The Boogeyman': Remember that whole Henry James truthiness of the narrator deal? That is completely present here. Either an abusive, angry man killed his three kids. Or a demon did. The ending might lead you to think that there is an actual demon, but I think it's still ambiguous. The protagonist reminded me of an unrepentant Jack Torrence.
'Gray Matter': Somewhat ew, maybe not quite at a Quinn level. Man ingests bacteria, turns into gray blob. Ick.
'Battleground': I found this one kind of weird too. Man receives a package which turns out to be a mini-army that attacks him. Pretty bizarre. Still better than the ironing machine that came to life.
'Trucks': Trucks come to life and essentially enslave humans. I think that most of these stories aren't scary because they are based on some pretty out there premises.
'Sometimes They Come Back': This story contained several themes that emerged in some of King's other works. A child was murdered. There were bullies in a high school. A teacher suffered from a nervous breakdown that cost him a job. Also, there was a theme that will come into later books: attempts to resurrect the dead. I don't want to give too much away (because it will be a big part of Pet Semetary), but I find that King likes to imagine the Orpheus myth in a version that goes terribly, terribly wrong--and unlike in the original, not just for Orpheus.
'Strawberry Spring': Serial killer at college campus is not sure if he is really a serial killer. You sort of see this one coming from a mile away. Incidentally, is 'strawberry spring' really an expression? New one on me.
'The Ledge': I remembered this one from the first time I read this book. This story is cool. Not scary, just cool. This one I am not going to give away, so just be advised that you should check it out. I promise that it is in no way scary, unless you have a fear of pigeons.
'The Lawnmower Man': Servant of Pan comes over to mow lawn, eats clippings, destroys client's house, murders client. So weird. SK probably could have laid off the booze around the time he wrote this story.
'Quitters, Inc.': Another fun story that I remembered from my previous reading. Also not scary. Also recommended.
'I Know What You Need': This story fits into my category of 'stories that would be scarier without the supernatural.' A college woman is essentially stalked by a man who has been 'in love' with her since grade school. However, he resorts to the use of voodoo and has some kind of psychic ability to gauge her needs. Probably even scarier without these elements.
'Children of the Corn': You are probably expecting me to tell you that this story scared me when I was younger, in line with how I usually reacted to scary stories. However, it didn't for some reason. What I do remember about this story is that one of my aunts visited us soon after seeing the movie. To get to our house, we had to drive past numerous cornfields and she kept freaking out.
I have to say, though, that this story did kind of creep me out last night. It would actually work completely without He Who Walks Behind the Rows. Evil children are generally creepy for me in almost any context--I was sufficiently creeped out by the trailers for The Others that I had to stop watching when the commercials came on. For real.
'The Last Rung on the Ladder': More of a reflective story about a woman with a difficult life and losing touch with people until it is too late--the real tragedies, as SK stated in his foreword to this volume.
'The Man Who Loved Flowers': Another serial killer walking around. I didn't see any immediate connections to 'Strawberry Spring,' although it could be possible.
'One for the Road': More Salem's Lot. I think that SK mostly wanted to write a story that featured most dialect in a Maine accent. A few creepy images, but not too bad. Ah-yuh.
'The Woman in the Room': Mostly about loss, specifically the loss of a parent to disease. SK's mother died of cancer and this story captured a lot of the agony that affect those around them. One of the more touching of the stories.
In general, there are definitely some stories to recommend this volume. A few were either too out there or unconvincing, but the best of them save it. Not as much horror as you might anticipate from an SK collection.
That being said, you may want to avoid cornfields on your next long-distance drive.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Rage
Rage—Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses.
Homer, Iliad, Book 1 (trans. Robert Fagles)
Spoiler alert: no one walks around with a knife in his/her back. That's one theme that is lacking.
If you're interested in reading this book, you may find it hard to get a copy. Stephen King originally published it as Richard Bachman and I remember reading it in the anthology of his Bachman books when I was younger. This collection is no longer readily in circulation. Some school shooters have claimed that they found inspiration in this book and King decided to pull it. My local library did not have a copy. My local academic library, on the other hand, did. So there are still versions of it out there, but it may be challenging to find.
The Bachman books differ from King's other novels because they are not as reliant on horror and the supernatural--although they do have science fiction and some of them are pretty horrific, just not in the 'vampires just took over your town' sense. Rage, in fact, has zero horror, apart from the fact that a student takes a classroom hostage, although we learn quickly that he is not actually that scary in a sense. Messed up, yes. I felt that in a way, this story was akin to Carrie since it featured teens who felt ostracized, except that this time there was no telekinetic massacre. Actually, while sharing aspects of their lives, it seems that the students learned that they had more in common than they thought. Is it weird that this book reminded me of The Breakfast Club?
The main character, Charlie, is the narrator for this story, so we learn several of the reasons that he has such rage. Most of it is directed at his father, whom he sees as a threat to his mother. I need to retract what I said in my previous post: of the Stephen King novels I have read so far, this one is the most Oedipal. This theme is in no way subtle. But Charlie's father is a terror and abusive--one incident that takes place when Charlie is a child is not too far removed from Jack Torrence breaking his son's arm in The Shining. But in this case, the father is not repentant and Charlie's rage continues to seethe. I'm not sure if it was just the first-person narrator or the quirkiness of his expressions, but he reminded me of a slightly more psychotic Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye, even borrowing some of the vocabulary when Charlie calls one of his classmates a phony. Both Holden and Charlie are aware that they are not all right, even if they are unsure why that is.
At the periphery of Rage is a town that hides its secrets behind closed doors, much like in previous books as well. This time, they come into the open from a variety of narrators since the classroom hostages are allowed to share their experiences. This exchange helps to normalize them, demonstrating that they are not so far removed from each other (Breakfast Club, anyone?). There is only one who does not: Ted Jones, who faces the rage from his classmates in the end and is the only student who is injured during the stand-off--Charlie does kill two teachers, though, which is why I believe King wanted the novel pulled. In a way, this book sends a strangely positive message in that all of the teenagers are shown as experiencing rage, but in the end finding a way of confronting it. I think that the subtext here is constructed by hearing about the lives of the adults that surround them: if they don't learn ways of finding happiness now, they could repeat the mistakes of their dysfunctional parents.
I think that the best part of Rage was the fact that it was only 131 pages in my edition. I'll look back on this fondly when I get to The Stand (1152), which is not all that far off.
Also, I have a tip for Stephen King if he wants to write things under a pseudonym and not be found out: don't set your book in small-town Maine.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
A few more Shining thoughts
Okay, after I finished the post this morning, I had a few more ideas that I wanted to write down:
1) The plot is the most Oedipal that I can think of in Stephen King's works (I guess we will find out). Although Danny needs to kill his father or else he will be killed instead, and even though Jack actually dies from the boiler exploding (did anyone else see this coming from a mile away?), it is Danny who sends him down to the basement--Danny also summons Hallorann, whom he expects will murder his father, so there is almost Oedipus by proxy. And there is a whole scene in which Wendy, the mother, expresses jealousy at the relationship between her son and her husband.
2) This novel would actually be much scarier without the supernatural elements. Man with failings wants to do good, can't, turns into homicidal maniac and attacks those whom he loves most. That would be a real tragedy. And terrifying, since they would be stuck on a mountain in the middle of winter with no help. That would be a grim book.
3) Does anyone else want to know why the hotel is haunted? There are some sources that Stephen King published later that give some detail (here is one), although it actually doesn't, since it seems the grounds are haunted from the start. Maybe I should blame Poltergeist, but I sort of wanted to learn that the Overlook was built on some sacred burial ground or something. It's this kind of thinking that leads to the Dark Tower because if you just want more and more information, you're going to need a whole lot of books.
1) The plot is the most Oedipal that I can think of in Stephen King's works (I guess we will find out). Although Danny needs to kill his father or else he will be killed instead, and even though Jack actually dies from the boiler exploding (did anyone else see this coming from a mile away?), it is Danny who sends him down to the basement--Danny also summons Hallorann, whom he expects will murder his father, so there is almost Oedipus by proxy. And there is a whole scene in which Wendy, the mother, expresses jealousy at the relationship between her son and her husband.
2) This novel would actually be much scarier without the supernatural elements. Man with failings wants to do good, can't, turns into homicidal maniac and attacks those whom he loves most. That would be a real tragedy. And terrifying, since they would be stuck on a mountain in the middle of winter with no help. That would be a grim book.
3) Does anyone else want to know why the hotel is haunted? There are some sources that Stephen King published later that give some detail (here is one), although it actually doesn't, since it seems the grounds are haunted from the start. Maybe I should blame Poltergeist, but I sort of wanted to learn that the Overlook was built on some sacred burial ground or something. It's this kind of thinking that leads to the Dark Tower because if you just want more and more information, you're going to need a whole lot of books.
The Shining
I probably don't need to tell you by now that The Shining scared me when I was younger. However, it is a book with really only one major supernatural terror with the woman in Room 217 and a few more minor ones; the rest is more human. I don't think I really understood the story beyond the horror when I was a kid, mostly just that the hotel was haunted and it was haunted with something bad. That being said, it still was creepy. Also, the copy that I remember had one of the creepiest covers I have ever seen on a book:
The Shining is definitely a book that relies more on suspense than gore, unlike 'Salem's Lot, which, after a while, had plenty of overt scares. But I think that the root of the plot hinges more on the individual characters than what is actually happening in the Overlook Hotel. We have a writer who finds it difficult to control his urges, whether they pertain to alcohol or anger, but who also seeks to do better. We have a wife who is remarkably dependent on her husband--maybe this was more typical in the 1970s, but I found it jarring that she really didn't seem to do anything other than raise their son. And we have your average, mind-reading boy, whose telepathy is strong enough to reach from Colorado to Florida. I would describe this novel as one in which King incorporates the supernatural to provide better insights into the natural: what we really see here is a father who gets pushed over the edge and cannot return. While his being pushed over the edge is manifested by his being possessed by the evil hotel, the ending could work without any of the supernatural elements.
Also, he runs around for a while with a knife in his back. Remember Carrie?
I find King's writer characters particularly interesting in his books. This could be because I need to write for my job, so I have an appreciation of how difficult that can be sometimes. The first writer that we see working on a project is Ben Mears in 'Salem's Lot, although his actual writing seems to go pretty well. There are several places where his process is described as relatively anguish-free since returning to the Lot. Jack Torrence in The Shining is not as lucky. At first, his writing goes well, which amplifies the other elements in his life and makes him satisfied. As he begins to break down, his writing also goes with him. I'm not sure if his writing block is symptomatic or the cause of his problems, but I do see the two as related.
The Shining is one of the books that has proven fertile for adaptations, including Kubrick's film and a Simpsons parody entitled 'The Shinning,' which was part of the fifth 'Treehouse of Horrors' specials. I really like the Kubrick adaptation, even though it is not faithful to the novel. Actually, I think that it is scarier than the novel and creates fantastic visual effects, plus adds a great final moment with the photograph. The changes that Kubrick made are logical and fit with the idea of the book while creating a version that works on screen even if it differs from the book.
'The Shinning,' on the other hand, was just plain funny.
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| Yikes |
The Shining is definitely a book that relies more on suspense than gore, unlike 'Salem's Lot, which, after a while, had plenty of overt scares. But I think that the root of the plot hinges more on the individual characters than what is actually happening in the Overlook Hotel. We have a writer who finds it difficult to control his urges, whether they pertain to alcohol or anger, but who also seeks to do better. We have a wife who is remarkably dependent on her husband--maybe this was more typical in the 1970s, but I found it jarring that she really didn't seem to do anything other than raise their son. And we have your average, mind-reading boy, whose telepathy is strong enough to reach from Colorado to Florida. I would describe this novel as one in which King incorporates the supernatural to provide better insights into the natural: what we really see here is a father who gets pushed over the edge and cannot return. While his being pushed over the edge is manifested by his being possessed by the evil hotel, the ending could work without any of the supernatural elements.
Also, he runs around for a while with a knife in his back. Remember Carrie?
I find King's writer characters particularly interesting in his books. This could be because I need to write for my job, so I have an appreciation of how difficult that can be sometimes. The first writer that we see working on a project is Ben Mears in 'Salem's Lot, although his actual writing seems to go pretty well. There are several places where his process is described as relatively anguish-free since returning to the Lot. Jack Torrence in The Shining is not as lucky. At first, his writing goes well, which amplifies the other elements in his life and makes him satisfied. As he begins to break down, his writing also goes with him. I'm not sure if his writing block is symptomatic or the cause of his problems, but I do see the two as related.
The Shining is one of the books that has proven fertile for adaptations, including Kubrick's film and a Simpsons parody entitled 'The Shinning,' which was part of the fifth 'Treehouse of Horrors' specials. I really like the Kubrick adaptation, even though it is not faithful to the novel. Actually, I think that it is scarier than the novel and creates fantastic visual effects, plus adds a great final moment with the photograph. The changes that Kubrick made are logical and fit with the idea of the book while creating a version that works on screen even if it differs from the book.
'The Shinning,' on the other hand, was just plain funny.
Monday, July 11, 2011
'Salem's Lot
'Salem's Lot was the second-scariest Stephen King novel that I read when I was younger (It was the scariest, with the scariest short story award going to 'The Mist'). 'Salem's Lot was also the only book that I can remember which made me put it down because I was so terrified by one of the scenes. The scene in question is the one where Jimmy is impaled because he tried to walk down to the basement of the boarding house, only to find that the vampires removed the stairs and put knives at the bottom (they sneakily also made the light switch inoperable, so that Jimmy did not see this coming). Gruesome. I'm not sure why 'Salem's Lot affected me so much except that there are a number of very graphic and scary elements and I was pretty clearly an impressionable reader at that age.
Upon rereading it, though, I was less impressed--although I did find myself looking down into the basement of the house in which I was staying a few times, just to reassure myself that the stairs were still there. Parts of it were written in a very clunky way, including a line that was essentially, 'She felt a drop of horror in her stomach, like a fetus of evil' (I'm paraphrasing because I don't have a copy of the book here. Future quotes will be more accurate). That's pretty awful. Mind you, Stephen King was writing at a fast clip, so I can see how you might come up with clunky similes or have repetitive sentence structure from time to time.
What I saw in 'Salem's Lot this time around was the roots for many of King's other novels (and the fact that these vampires can be easily warded off with a crucifix and by refusing them an invitation into the house, two facts that I evidently missed the first time around). For instance, the group that is formed to combat the vampires reminded me of a ka-tet, which will be a feature of his later books, in particular the Dark Tower series. A ka-tet is a group brought together because its members share a fate, and there are numerous mentions of the fact that one of the principal characters, Ben Mears, feels as though everything is coming together as if by fate--he is also a writer, which is an important trope in these early books. Of course, there is also a group, which is a key feature of a ka-tet. One of its members, Father Callahan, clearly stuck with King, since he will become part of the Dark Tower ka-tet at points--and we get the end of his story, which becomes more surreal and otherworldly after he leaves the Lot.
Other recurring themes in this one include the haunted house, which is a favorite King device. Actually, in this case, the haunted house extends beyond its walls and envelops the town in its evil, a precursor to It--they also share the fact that children are the first victims. There is a background provided for the Marsten House and why it became this nexus is provided, at least in part. I'm quite certain that King has more background about this place and why Kurt Barlow chose it as his headquarters. There will be numerous haunted houses to come (The Shining was next, after all) and while this one is very effective, I think that the most striking one that I have found in his works so far was in The Waste Lands, but I am getting ahead of myself here. I do like that Marsten House looks over 'Salem's Lot (sort of like an Overlook...), which is the opposite of It, which finds its home under the town. Neat reversal.
I found this vampire story somewhat amusing because I think that it is one of the more homoerotic that I have run across since so many of the vampires are men at first. In a way, this feels like a reversal of Bram Stoker, where Dracula's Brides are gathered around like a harem.
The plan is to read all of Stephen King's books, including the non-fiction, so I will read Danse Macabre, which is his reflection on the legacy of horror writing. From what I understand, he talks about the cult TV show 'Dark Shadows' as unsuccessful, claiming that television is a bad medium for horror. But it's hard for me to imagine that he wasn't in some way influenced by a show that features a dysfunctional family living in a house that features considerable paranormal activity, including a vampire. And while the show as a whole may not have succeeded in terrifying its audience, I have found that some of its most effective moments occur during the early days of discovering that Barnabas is a vampire, such as when he has hypnotized Maggie (or whatever he did to her) and she is walking around, dressed in white as his lost love Josette, in a trace--these scenes were enhanced because they were shot in black and white, making them even creepier. Not to mention that both are set in Maine. Although 'Salem's Lot is a very different approach when compared to 'Dark Shadows', I can't help but think that there is a slight anxiety of influence.
Incidentally, I learned last night that all of the Barnabus and beyond 'Dark Shadows' is available for instant view on Netflix. Enjoy!
Upon rereading it, though, I was less impressed--although I did find myself looking down into the basement of the house in which I was staying a few times, just to reassure myself that the stairs were still there. Parts of it were written in a very clunky way, including a line that was essentially, 'She felt a drop of horror in her stomach, like a fetus of evil' (I'm paraphrasing because I don't have a copy of the book here. Future quotes will be more accurate). That's pretty awful. Mind you, Stephen King was writing at a fast clip, so I can see how you might come up with clunky similes or have repetitive sentence structure from time to time.
What I saw in 'Salem's Lot this time around was the roots for many of King's other novels (and the fact that these vampires can be easily warded off with a crucifix and by refusing them an invitation into the house, two facts that I evidently missed the first time around). For instance, the group that is formed to combat the vampires reminded me of a ka-tet, which will be a feature of his later books, in particular the Dark Tower series. A ka-tet is a group brought together because its members share a fate, and there are numerous mentions of the fact that one of the principal characters, Ben Mears, feels as though everything is coming together as if by fate--he is also a writer, which is an important trope in these early books. Of course, there is also a group, which is a key feature of a ka-tet. One of its members, Father Callahan, clearly stuck with King, since he will become part of the Dark Tower ka-tet at points--and we get the end of his story, which becomes more surreal and otherworldly after he leaves the Lot.
Other recurring themes in this one include the haunted house, which is a favorite King device. Actually, in this case, the haunted house extends beyond its walls and envelops the town in its evil, a precursor to It--they also share the fact that children are the first victims. There is a background provided for the Marsten House and why it became this nexus is provided, at least in part. I'm quite certain that King has more background about this place and why Kurt Barlow chose it as his headquarters. There will be numerous haunted houses to come (The Shining was next, after all) and while this one is very effective, I think that the most striking one that I have found in his works so far was in The Waste Lands, but I am getting ahead of myself here. I do like that Marsten House looks over 'Salem's Lot (sort of like an Overlook...), which is the opposite of It, which finds its home under the town. Neat reversal.
I found this vampire story somewhat amusing because I think that it is one of the more homoerotic that I have run across since so many of the vampires are men at first. In a way, this feels like a reversal of Bram Stoker, where Dracula's Brides are gathered around like a harem.
The plan is to read all of Stephen King's books, including the non-fiction, so I will read Danse Macabre, which is his reflection on the legacy of horror writing. From what I understand, he talks about the cult TV show 'Dark Shadows' as unsuccessful, claiming that television is a bad medium for horror. But it's hard for me to imagine that he wasn't in some way influenced by a show that features a dysfunctional family living in a house that features considerable paranormal activity, including a vampire. And while the show as a whole may not have succeeded in terrifying its audience, I have found that some of its most effective moments occur during the early days of discovering that Barnabas is a vampire, such as when he has hypnotized Maggie (or whatever he did to her) and she is walking around, dressed in white as his lost love Josette, in a trace--these scenes were enhanced because they were shot in black and white, making them even creepier. Not to mention that both are set in Maine. Although 'Salem's Lot is a very different approach when compared to 'Dark Shadows', I can't help but think that there is a slight anxiety of influence.
Incidentally, I learned last night that all of the Barnabus and beyond 'Dark Shadows' is available for instant view on Netflix. Enjoy!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Carrie
Carrie was one of the few Stephen King books that I read when I was younger which did not scare me. Not one bit. Apparently angry telekinetics on the warpath with the ability to fry people via downed power lines was not terrifying. But I think that probably it didn't scare me because this book is one of the easiest ones in which the story beyond the horror emerges. Carrie is an ostracized, isolated teenager in what appears to be a very stratified high school--socially stratified high schools are definitely a recurring theme in Stephen King's books. I think that those of us who felt ostracized have some sympathy for Carrie and maybe even a bit of Schadenfreude as she seeks revenge against the others. That being said, she goes somewhat overboard, like blowing up large portions of the town.
I sometimes think of Stephen King's books as a commentary on earlier American fiction that created seemingly pastoral rural settings, like Thornton Wilder's Our Town. In Grover's Corners, everything seems to be perfect, but it's actually not. Death surrounds the play in a way that does not become fully apparent until the third act. Books like Carrie are set in what should be idyllic towns but rather than masking the disturbing elements, as Wilder does, King brings them to the forefront. In Carrie especially, the opening scene grounds the entire book since we see right away a girl who is detached from her social group, one who is the butt of jokes that are not funny, and the target of a group that comes close to a mob mentality. There is also something here of Shirley Jackson, one of Stephen King's favorite writers, and the danger of crowds (like in 'The Lottery'). There is a similar moment when the bucket of pigs' blood hits Carrie: the whole crowd torments her with their frightened laughter, unsure of how to act when she is involved.
I liked the different techniques that King incorporated into this book. There was his favorite interruption of text to insert the character's thoughts,
(Oh, how he likes to do this!)
which he returns to in a number of his other works. In a book about someone with telekinetic powers, it works. Also, I felt that the interspersion of fictional sources written later about the incident helped move along some of the plot without hindering it. We didn't need anyone to walk in and explain details about Carrie's powers in an artificial way, we could just have an excerpt from an expert on telekinesis instead. This technique will come back in other books, particularly since King enjoys creating lengthy histories for many of his stories (no, it's not just an out-of-control Dark Tower thing, although that is probably the best-known manifestation). Actually, I suspect that part of what is driving me through this project is the idea that there are almost always hidden backgrounds in his books and I want to try and find them.
Carrie is actually a pretty compelling character. I found it very effective at the end when she still wants her mother's help despite the fact that: a) her mother has never really helped her and b) her mother is dead. But the idea that her actions go outside of her control and she wants help makes sense for her character; it also fits with the idea that she has been abused by her mother for her entire life and can't see how hurtful she was. I think that this is part of why this book works: Carrie does what she can to integrate with her peer group, and we see her trying to assimilate, but in the end is unable to because of one vicious individual (Chris).
One thing that I did not notice before: Stephen King has a thing, at least in these early books, for characters to walk around with weapons sticking out of them. Specifically, Carrie walks around for a while with a knife sticking out of her back. I can think of at least two other books in which this happens, but I won't give them away. Need to leave some suspense.
I sometimes think of Stephen King's books as a commentary on earlier American fiction that created seemingly pastoral rural settings, like Thornton Wilder's Our Town. In Grover's Corners, everything seems to be perfect, but it's actually not. Death surrounds the play in a way that does not become fully apparent until the third act. Books like Carrie are set in what should be idyllic towns but rather than masking the disturbing elements, as Wilder does, King brings them to the forefront. In Carrie especially, the opening scene grounds the entire book since we see right away a girl who is detached from her social group, one who is the butt of jokes that are not funny, and the target of a group that comes close to a mob mentality. There is also something here of Shirley Jackson, one of Stephen King's favorite writers, and the danger of crowds (like in 'The Lottery'). There is a similar moment when the bucket of pigs' blood hits Carrie: the whole crowd torments her with their frightened laughter, unsure of how to act when she is involved.
I liked the different techniques that King incorporated into this book. There was his favorite interruption of text to insert the character's thoughts,
(Oh, how he likes to do this!)
which he returns to in a number of his other works. In a book about someone with telekinetic powers, it works. Also, I felt that the interspersion of fictional sources written later about the incident helped move along some of the plot without hindering it. We didn't need anyone to walk in and explain details about Carrie's powers in an artificial way, we could just have an excerpt from an expert on telekinesis instead. This technique will come back in other books, particularly since King enjoys creating lengthy histories for many of his stories (no, it's not just an out-of-control Dark Tower thing, although that is probably the best-known manifestation). Actually, I suspect that part of what is driving me through this project is the idea that there are almost always hidden backgrounds in his books and I want to try and find them.
Carrie is actually a pretty compelling character. I found it very effective at the end when she still wants her mother's help despite the fact that: a) her mother has never really helped her and b) her mother is dead. But the idea that her actions go outside of her control and she wants help makes sense for her character; it also fits with the idea that she has been abused by her mother for her entire life and can't see how hurtful she was. I think that this is part of why this book works: Carrie does what she can to integrate with her peer group, and we see her trying to assimilate, but in the end is unable to because of one vicious individual (Chris).
One thing that I did not notice before: Stephen King has a thing, at least in these early books, for characters to walk around with weapons sticking out of them. Specifically, Carrie walks around for a while with a knife sticking out of her back. I can think of at least two other books in which this happens, but I won't give them away. Need to leave some suspense.
From Carrie to the Keyhole
Recently, while on a long-distance drive, I came up with a crazy idea: what if I were to read all of Stephen King's novels in chronological order?
Yes, I realize that this is insane.
Seeking help to prevent me from taking on such a ludicrous project, I posted on Facebook that I was considering reading all of Stephen King's books. The response was mixed: some friends agreed that this was insane, while others encouraged it, with one commentator replying, 'DO IT! IT WILL BE EPIIIC!!' Another not only advocated such an endeavor, but encouraged me to keep a blog to track my results.
How often do you get to embark on a project that requires three 'i's in 'epic'? Like epic x III.
The title refers to Stephen King's first published novel and 'the Keyhole' is a reference to the upcoming Dark Tower novel (number 4.5ish in the series), entitled 'The Wind Through the Keyhole,' which is due out next year. Something tells me that I will not get through all of Stephen King's books in the next six months. And even if I do, I can wait with bated breath for this last one, then blog about it. My greatest hope is that he doesn't publish another 10-14 in the interim.
Why Stephen King? I read a number of his books from around 1988-1990, many of which terrified the living daylights out of me (except Tommyknockers, which I thought was awful). But some I found intriguing. One of my all-time favorites was Misery, which I still think is a great book and is actually a metaphor for writing. But I will leave that for later since if I am to read all of the books, I will have a chance to revisit it. Every so often, I would seek out Stephen King books and reread them. During the summer of 2004, I reread Pet Semetary and unlike the first time I read it, did not stay up all night terrified that a small, zombie child was going to attack me with a scalpel. This seemed like progress.
Then two pivotal events occurred:
1) I started spending time with someone who had an anthology of Carrie, 'Salem's Lot, and The Shining last November. The volume sat on a shelf, taunting me to read it. It took me a while to actually do so, as I wasn't sure if I could handle visions of nocturnal floating vampire children at my window again (this terrified me when I first read the book), but I decided to check it out. I got through all three in a little less than a week and this time, there were no sleepless nights with the curtains drawn. Progress!
2) In January, I decided to reread the first volume of the Dark Tower series, which I own. When I initially read the book in 2006 or so, I really wasn't all that into it. I think it was the circumstances under which it was read (long bus trip). For some reason, I decided to give it a second chance. By complete coincidence, I also came down with a debilitating flu at this time, which gave me more than enough time to read--and made me very grateful that I had decided to go with the Dark Tower and not The Stand. My last act before succumbing to the flu was to run to my local library and take out books 2-4, and it is a good thing I did because I would have been bored out of my skull otherwise, except on the weekend when there was playoff football. I completed the remaining books post-flu that month.
Some people like to watch TV shows meticulously to discover hidden plot conventions. Some people watch movies obsessively (okay, I do that sometimes too). Some people have other hobbies. Me, I like to read. Also, I enjoy randomly speculating about things in the items that I read. And I think that is why I want to do this project. Stephen King's works confront many of the issues that are important in contemporary society while tying them to well-worn tropes--that would be me speculating. And yes, I do talk like this in everyday life and to spare everyone around me from having to hear such gibberish, I am writing it down in blog form instead. So if you read this blog, be prepared for random, overly scholarly arguments being applied to these books.
I'm not planning to read companion books or other peoples' points of view to back these ideas up. Perhaps I will. But this is mostly me and Steve, or rather me and Steve's novels. There might be other stuff worked in there too. Probably not much plot summary (you can find summaries at Wikipedia, among other places) and tons of spoilers, so if you haven't read the books and don't want to know, you've been warned.
Yes, I realize that this is insane.
Seeking help to prevent me from taking on such a ludicrous project, I posted on Facebook that I was considering reading all of Stephen King's books. The response was mixed: some friends agreed that this was insane, while others encouraged it, with one commentator replying, 'DO IT! IT WILL BE EPIIIC!!' Another not only advocated such an endeavor, but encouraged me to keep a blog to track my results.
How often do you get to embark on a project that requires three 'i's in 'epic'? Like epic x III.
The title refers to Stephen King's first published novel and 'the Keyhole' is a reference to the upcoming Dark Tower novel (number 4.5ish in the series), entitled 'The Wind Through the Keyhole,' which is due out next year. Something tells me that I will not get through all of Stephen King's books in the next six months. And even if I do, I can wait with bated breath for this last one, then blog about it. My greatest hope is that he doesn't publish another 10-14 in the interim.
Why Stephen King? I read a number of his books from around 1988-1990, many of which terrified the living daylights out of me (except Tommyknockers, which I thought was awful). But some I found intriguing. One of my all-time favorites was Misery, which I still think is a great book and is actually a metaphor for writing. But I will leave that for later since if I am to read all of the books, I will have a chance to revisit it. Every so often, I would seek out Stephen King books and reread them. During the summer of 2004, I reread Pet Semetary and unlike the first time I read it, did not stay up all night terrified that a small, zombie child was going to attack me with a scalpel. This seemed like progress.
Then two pivotal events occurred:
1) I started spending time with someone who had an anthology of Carrie, 'Salem's Lot, and The Shining last November. The volume sat on a shelf, taunting me to read it. It took me a while to actually do so, as I wasn't sure if I could handle visions of nocturnal floating vampire children at my window again (this terrified me when I first read the book), but I decided to check it out. I got through all three in a little less than a week and this time, there were no sleepless nights with the curtains drawn. Progress!
2) In January, I decided to reread the first volume of the Dark Tower series, which I own. When I initially read the book in 2006 or so, I really wasn't all that into it. I think it was the circumstances under which it was read (long bus trip). For some reason, I decided to give it a second chance. By complete coincidence, I also came down with a debilitating flu at this time, which gave me more than enough time to read--and made me very grateful that I had decided to go with the Dark Tower and not The Stand. My last act before succumbing to the flu was to run to my local library and take out books 2-4, and it is a good thing I did because I would have been bored out of my skull otherwise, except on the weekend when there was playoff football. I completed the remaining books post-flu that month.
Some people like to watch TV shows meticulously to discover hidden plot conventions. Some people watch movies obsessively (okay, I do that sometimes too). Some people have other hobbies. Me, I like to read. Also, I enjoy randomly speculating about things in the items that I read. And I think that is why I want to do this project. Stephen King's works confront many of the issues that are important in contemporary society while tying them to well-worn tropes--that would be me speculating. And yes, I do talk like this in everyday life and to spare everyone around me from having to hear such gibberish, I am writing it down in blog form instead. So if you read this blog, be prepared for random, overly scholarly arguments being applied to these books.
I'm not planning to read companion books or other peoples' points of view to back these ideas up. Perhaps I will. But this is mostly me and Steve, or rather me and Steve's novels. There might be other stuff worked in there too. Probably not much plot summary (you can find summaries at Wikipedia, among other places) and tons of spoilers, so if you haven't read the books and don't want to know, you've been warned.
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