I didn't know a thing about Lisey's Story coming in to it. I posted a photo of the book on Instagram and a chap from Norway commented that it's his favourite Stephen King book. High regard indeed. So I went in with high expectations. Unfortunately, I didn't dig it at all. Sad face.
Aside from my usual habit of taking months to read a book, instead picking up comics and other books, I struggled to get behind all the smucking and booling. The smucking, in particular, just got on my tits. I wouldn't go as far as cringing, but I wasn't far off.
As usual, I picked up speed towards the end and hammered the last quarter of the book in a couple of days. Once again, I had the same rueful feeling that I hadn't given enough of my self to the reading, but at the same time, it just never grabbed me. I liked Lisey, but didn't give much of shit about Scott. The Dooley character was interesting, and more could have been given to the cat and mouse dynamic, but that's not the story King wanted to tell.
I've since read that Lisey's Story is one of King's own favourites. Feels like I've missed something.