Good. Very good.
I know I keep repeating that these posts aren't meant as literary reviews - even a cursory reading makes that quite evident - but I still get that initial sinking feeling of thinking that's what I should be doing, especially when I buzzed off a book and want to say why. And then it passes when I realise I can write any old bollocks I care to. It's a blog. Who cares?
Right. Bag of Bones. It's a good read. I know that's an inane statement but, at this point, it counts for a lot. When you're reading book after book by the same author it helps maintain momentum, not just for the next book, but half a dozen down the line. 'A good read' also translates as saying it's well written, but I'm not going to claim the critical acumen to back up such a claim. What a fanny.
While it's an overtly supernatural tale, it's the human detail that makes it for me. There are glimmers of goodness (Mattie and her daughter are gorgeous - I'm really looking forward to seeing how the very lovely Melissa George does with the part), it mainly hit me as a study in the depths of shittiness of which we're capable and consistently willing to plumb, both personally and as a community. A somewhat pessimistic reaction to King's handling of facing his worst fears (losing his wife and writers block) perhaps, but there you go.
This is good King.