Misery (aka On Writing, Version 1.0)

[I told you that would be fast....here we are, just over 24 hours later, and Misery is done]

I know that I start to sound a bit like a broken record on this blog when I go on about how you don't actually need a terrifying alien clown or a bunch of vampires invading a town or a violent writer going crazy in a hotel or whatever in most of Stephen King's horror books to create the horror.  But bear with me a minute when I say that you don't actually need Annie Wilkes for Misery.  Because I know that this sounds absolutely absurd from one perspective (how else would you wind up with the basic scenario?), but from another perspective, it makes complete sense to me.  Sure, she is a psychopath with severe mental health issues and a penchant for the grotesque.  But she is also Paul's muse, albeit something of a practical version of one.  She is an editor and a facilitator for the creative process.  She offers advice that might seem to stem from her naivete.  However, as Paul starts to think over the advice that she has provided, he realizes that she is right: perhaps Fast Cars was not such a great project, perhaps his first draft of Misery's Return was not convincing, perhaps Annie (and therefore, perhaps readers in general) are not fooled by poor work.  The perverse situation in which Paul finds himself under her care creates the almost perfect scenario for him to write; at one point, he notes that before finding himself Annie's prisoner, he would avoid writing for the most mundane reasons, like having a headache, but while he is there, he maintains a steady schedule and is productive to an unprecedented degree.  He acknowledges that he plays Scherherazade both for her and for himself.  So muse, editor, facilitator, Shah...call it what you will, but Annie helps Paul reach his creative potential.  And when she has fulfilled this role, he kills her.  LITERALLY.

Mind you, in doing so, she reveals herself to be a complete headcase, and part of what makes this novel work, I think, is Paul's reaction as her antics get further and further out of control.  His near-panic when the troopers rescue him is grounded in hysteria, and rightly so.  The deterioration of his body is made very obvious when the troopers are looking him over in this scene, and the reader is reminded of how visceral the experience of writing this novel has been.  When the original state trooper comes out to investigate Annie's house, Paul is described as 'a man with blue eyes bulging from his white and whiskery old-man's face...staring at him from behind a window, moaning through closed lips, hands rattling uselessly on a board laid across the arms of a wheelchair' (p. 259).  This is in contrast with the Paul that we hear about from before the accident, a fun-loving, free-wheeling guy who even considers picking up the attractive bank attendant before continuing on his post-book journey.  Is part of this novel, then, about the fear of getting older too?  That he won't be able to finish his 'great novel' not only because of Annie, but because he simply won't finish it?  In the previous paragraph, before this description of Paul as old, is the following:

The truth of everything was so simple in its horridness; so dreadfully simple.  He was dying by inches, but dying that way wasn't as bad as he'd already feared.  But he was also fading, and that was an awful thing because it was moronic

This problem of fading, this could happen at any age, to anyone.  And it could suck away creative talent.  In fact, the Paul described in the very final section of the book has faded.  He can no longer write, he can no longer support himself (literally, in terms of mobility), he finds it hard to walk a mile, and he even cowers at his housekeeper and cat.  At the end, he finds a creative spark, but just enough to get started (and to stop him from drinking so that he doesn't lose his creativity).

I realize that I am getting a bit ahead of myself here: let's go back to the title of the book, and Paul's book Misery.  Misery is the main character in the novel, and perhaps it describes the entire process of writing the novel in the first place: it is misery.  Misery's Return, the name of Paul's next book in the series, seems almost like a joke when considered in this context.  However, with the misery, he also finds himself deeply invested in the process and the story, and ultimately he is fulfilled by the experience.  Perhaps that bird from Africa that he saw as a child was not so sad after all.

I found many parallels in this novel to other Stephen King works, some of which were very weird.  Like, who thought that the thumb pie from Thinner would return?  Or a killer lawnmower like in 'The Lawnmower Man'?  There were also a few hints of 'The Drawing of the Three,' but perhaps that is not surprising, considering how closely these two novels were written together (in fact, did you realize that King had four novels that were published in 1987 alone?  Four?  That is insane.  And this was the year after IT).  Keflex (penicillin) is featured in both novels, for instance, which is kind of weird.  What really resonated with me in both novels was the imagery of the ocean coming in and out: in 'The Drawing of the Three,' this is a literal ocean, since almost the whole novel takes place on the beach.  In Misery, the waves on a set of pilings was likened to the pain that Paul felt as he needed his Norvil, a pain that would then gradually abate, hiding the pilings again.  King has said that this book was very much about addiction, with Annie serving as a stand-in for his own problems at the time.  This time around, I actually found the addiction issue less salient; after all, Paul becomes addicted to his Norvil, but he also does need it to keep his pain at bay.  By contrast, Eddie Dean in 'The Drawing of the Three' was a real addict, a person who had to be ripped out of his own world to stop using heroin (and even then still tried to trick Roland to get back).  Misery, to me, felt much more like an expose on writing and how wracking the process can be--Annie Wilkes or no.

One last thought: is this the first book with no mention of the supernatural at all?  Cujo didn't need any supernatural plot driver, even though there were some references to a general evil descending on the town.  But that doesn't even happen in Misery: it is simply a person who is crazy.  Maybe this is the first novel where King is hinting that the supernatural in his other books is something of a cover that hides what is really terrifying: everyday people who don't act as they should.

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:

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.