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.
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