Some Things You Might Not Know about Stephen King
(1) At least one major critic argues that King's most beloved novels are overrated. We're talking about "The Shining," "It," "The Stand." The critic says these novels are billious; they seem unedited. They are sloppy and rely on a deus ex machine for an ending. The critic says King's best work came early in his career, and it tended not to involve the supernatural. One example he gives is "The Running Man"; another is a story about a school shooting, pulled from the shelves, by King himself, I think, when actual school shootings actually became so ubiquitous. This critic does argue that, in recent years, King has shown signs of an interest in writing with more discipline; some of the bagginess has gone away. (It's interesting to note that the first two-thirds of the "Mr. Mercedes" trilogy don't, in any way, involve the supernatural, and then, like a kid near candy, Stephen King caves. He can't help but bring in some "Carrie"-esque bits of telekinesis, or some such, in the final volume.)
(2) My favorite of King's works of fiction (and I've read only a small fraction) is the overlooked Bildungsroman, "Joyland." This moves quickly, and it's short. People don't rank it high in the King canon. But, to me, it feels nostalgic, exciting, mysterious, frightening, and romantic. It gives you a likable protagonist and allows you to watch as the protagonist changes. There's a perfect summer setting: an old theme park (where things go awry). That said, my favorite King book, by far, is a work of non-fiction, "On Writing." Here, King reveals that his main secret is: Have a life. Make sure you are actively engaged in the world. (You see shades of this moral in "Gerald's Game.") King says, If you're actually alive, your fiction can only benefit from that fact. And he confesses he enjoys Ruth Rendell, Anne Tyler, Richard Yates, and Alice McDermott--just as much as he enjoys Lee Child and the great Peter Abrahams. Lastly, King reveals (rather shockingly) that he doesn't care very much about plot. Just put two people in an impossible situation, and see what happens. (No one ever accuses King of weak set-ups. Or: that's rarely the accusation. The accusation is that the endings don't work. There's validity in that accusation.)
(3) I'm interested in the ways that King plays with "space." "Under the Dome" confines several characters in tight quarters; there's an actual dome that descends on a small town. In "Misery," a terrible accident means that the hero has to spend weeks and weeks imprisoned by Annie Wilkes. And--most amazingly--"Gerald's Game" has a woman handcuffed to a bed when her husband has a heart attack and dies next to her. King's JFK novel does something related: Here, it's not space that is limited, but time. The characters have to go through the same string of events, over and over, as they learn new, alarming facts about time travel, and as they try to handle the Dallas/JFK debacle in a way that doesn't ruin the world. King reminds me a bit of Philip Roth, who said he had given his life to "What If?" scenarios. "What if Lindbergh had won the Presidency, and the U.S. became a nation of Nazi sympathizers?" We're not so far from Stephen King here. "What if all evidence suggested that a man committed a certain heinous crime, while, at the same time, a conflicting, equally thorough body of evidence suggested that that same man really could not have been involved?"
(4) A story needs to show us a person changing significantly, and over time. King does this so well. It's something he understands better than most pulpy writers. It's not the aliens and killer clowns that make King a billionaire (though those creatures don't hurt). It's King's ability to show psychological growth and/or degradation. The heroine of "Gerald's Game" could be lifted straight from the pages of "Dolores Claiborne." (The similarities--the eclipse, the history of abuse--are pretty striking. This is laziness, and almost inexcusable.) In both cases, a woman is put through hell, and, in dealing with her problems, the woman becomes a grown-up. Buried memories are unearthed. Early tantrums are abandoned. More-thoughtful behavior is adopted. A protagonist--once easily frightened--becomes something like a badass. This is deeply satisfying.
(5) People say that "Misery" was King writing about his own alcohol addiction. Alcohol took the form of Annie Wilkes; booze was both King's tormentor and King's "biggest fan." And then "The Tommyknockers" seems to be about drug addiction, even though King says he didn't understand what he was doing--in a literary sense--as he was writing. King doesn't show any signs of stopping, and in this way, he resembles his hero, Ruth Rendell. He has very little patience for people who don't use their talent. So, for example, he loved Scott Smith when Smith produced "A Simple Plan," but he couldn't accept that "The Ruins" took maybe ten or eleven years to write. If you've not seen the batshit-crazy Netflix adaptation of "Gerald's Game," with Carla Gugino, I recommend it. (Watch all the tension King gets from that one mangy dog!) And I recommend, also, "The Outsider," just because, once again, King has given us a set of conflicted, pained people, and he is breezily letting their moral melodramas play out on the page. When it comes to Stephen King, I'm strictly a fair-weather fan--but both the Gugino film and "The Outsider" count as fair weather!
(1) At least one major critic argues that King's most beloved novels are overrated. We're talking about "The Shining," "It," "The Stand." The critic says these novels are billious; they seem unedited. They are sloppy and rely on a deus ex machine for an ending. The critic says King's best work came early in his career, and it tended not to involve the supernatural. One example he gives is "The Running Man"; another is a story about a school shooting, pulled from the shelves, by King himself, I think, when actual school shootings actually became so ubiquitous. This critic does argue that, in recent years, King has shown signs of an interest in writing with more discipline; some of the bagginess has gone away. (It's interesting to note that the first two-thirds of the "Mr. Mercedes" trilogy don't, in any way, involve the supernatural, and then, like a kid near candy, Stephen King caves. He can't help but bring in some "Carrie"-esque bits of telekinesis, or some such, in the final volume.)
(2) My favorite of King's works of fiction (and I've read only a small fraction) is the overlooked Bildungsroman, "Joyland." This moves quickly, and it's short. People don't rank it high in the King canon. But, to me, it feels nostalgic, exciting, mysterious, frightening, and romantic. It gives you a likable protagonist and allows you to watch as the protagonist changes. There's a perfect summer setting: an old theme park (where things go awry). That said, my favorite King book, by far, is a work of non-fiction, "On Writing." Here, King reveals that his main secret is: Have a life. Make sure you are actively engaged in the world. (You see shades of this moral in "Gerald's Game.") King says, If you're actually alive, your fiction can only benefit from that fact. And he confesses he enjoys Ruth Rendell, Anne Tyler, Richard Yates, and Alice McDermott--just as much as he enjoys Lee Child and the great Peter Abrahams. Lastly, King reveals (rather shockingly) that he doesn't care very much about plot. Just put two people in an impossible situation, and see what happens. (No one ever accuses King of weak set-ups. Or: that's rarely the accusation. The accusation is that the endings don't work. There's validity in that accusation.)
(3) I'm interested in the ways that King plays with "space." "Under the Dome" confines several characters in tight quarters; there's an actual dome that descends on a small town. In "Misery," a terrible accident means that the hero has to spend weeks and weeks imprisoned by Annie Wilkes. And--most amazingly--"Gerald's Game" has a woman handcuffed to a bed when her husband has a heart attack and dies next to her. King's JFK novel does something related: Here, it's not space that is limited, but time. The characters have to go through the same string of events, over and over, as they learn new, alarming facts about time travel, and as they try to handle the Dallas/JFK debacle in a way that doesn't ruin the world. King reminds me a bit of Philip Roth, who said he had given his life to "What If?" scenarios. "What if Lindbergh had won the Presidency, and the U.S. became a nation of Nazi sympathizers?" We're not so far from Stephen King here. "What if all evidence suggested that a man committed a certain heinous crime, while, at the same time, a conflicting, equally thorough body of evidence suggested that that same man really could not have been involved?"
(4) A story needs to show us a person changing significantly, and over time. King does this so well. It's something he understands better than most pulpy writers. It's not the aliens and killer clowns that make King a billionaire (though those creatures don't hurt). It's King's ability to show psychological growth and/or degradation. The heroine of "Gerald's Game" could be lifted straight from the pages of "Dolores Claiborne." (The similarities--the eclipse, the history of abuse--are pretty striking. This is laziness, and almost inexcusable.) In both cases, a woman is put through hell, and, in dealing with her problems, the woman becomes a grown-up. Buried memories are unearthed. Early tantrums are abandoned. More-thoughtful behavior is adopted. A protagonist--once easily frightened--becomes something like a badass. This is deeply satisfying.
(5) People say that "Misery" was King writing about his own alcohol addiction. Alcohol took the form of Annie Wilkes; booze was both King's tormentor and King's "biggest fan." And then "The Tommyknockers" seems to be about drug addiction, even though King says he didn't understand what he was doing--in a literary sense--as he was writing. King doesn't show any signs of stopping, and in this way, he resembles his hero, Ruth Rendell. He has very little patience for people who don't use their talent. So, for example, he loved Scott Smith when Smith produced "A Simple Plan," but he couldn't accept that "The Ruins" took maybe ten or eleven years to write. If you've not seen the batshit-crazy Netflix adaptation of "Gerald's Game," with Carla Gugino, I recommend it. (Watch all the tension King gets from that one mangy dog!) And I recommend, also, "The Outsider," just because, once again, King has given us a set of conflicted, pained people, and he is breezily letting their moral melodramas play out on the page. When it comes to Stephen King, I'm strictly a fair-weather fan--but both the Gugino film and "The Outsider" count as fair weather!
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