Yes.
I have this in-built mechanism that spurs me to retract from and deride the hugely popular or generally acclaimed. So it is that my fondness for both this book and the film makes me wonder whether it's just 'too easy' to be consistently blown away by them. I'm quite aware that this thinking is a rank and snobbish affectation of critical acumen which, when displayed by others, makes you want to fill the offenders pockets with sick. In this way, I'm more than happy to say that I love 'Rita Hayworth...'
Tonally, for me, it's King on fire. That conversational, confessional (?) style gets me. I'm sure there's a lot of film-love bias flooding my appreciation of the book, as it's almost impossible to read it without Robbins and Freeman in mind, so I'll pull this gushfest up short and end by saying I loved it.
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
Sunday, 20 February 2011
Different Seasons - 20th February 2011
Seeing as I'm dragging my feet enough with the reading and, subsequently, these posts, I think I'll do a separate post for each story/novella. Don't hold your breath.
Thanks for reading.
The Gunslinger: Dark Tower I - 14th Jan - 19th February 2011
It pains me more than it probably should to say this, but I didn't care much for The Gunslinger.
I wanted to, but just couldn't get into it. That also goes to explain why a book of a little over 200 pages took more than a month to read. I grew more interested towards the end as the greater adventure was implied but couldn't raise much of an interest in the main character in the first place. I know he was trying his hand at something new, genre-wise and obviously stuck with it, so I'll give him a pass and reserve judgement until the next chapter of the series.
Not a lot more to say.
Currently listening:
Ben Marwood - Outside There's A Curse
and rabidly anticipating the new Trap Them and Victims albums.
I wanted to, but just couldn't get into it. That also goes to explain why a book of a little over 200 pages took more than a month to read. I grew more interested towards the end as the greater adventure was implied but couldn't raise much of an interest in the main character in the first place. I know he was trying his hand at something new, genre-wise and obviously stuck with it, so I'll give him a pass and reserve judgement until the next chapter of the series.
Not a lot more to say.
Currently listening:
Ben Marwood - Outside There's A Curse
and rabidly anticipating the new Trap Them and Victims albums.
Friday, 14 January 2011
The Gunslinger - Dark Tower I - 14th Jan 2011
The Running Man - 30 Dec 2010 - 13 Jan 2011
Outstanding! For a number of reasons. First and foremost is that it's nothing like the film. Yes, I know the book came first and I should be saying the film is nothing like the book...
However, my chronology is all messed up. As a kid, I definitely saw the film first, then read the book. The thing is, I may as well have been reading it for the first time, this time around as hardly any of it seemed familiar.
Anyway, to business; I loved the book. Loved it. It reeks of the same jilted nihilism as Roadwork and the world it evokes is much closer to the dystopian classics than the jingoistic, wronged lone justice-seekers of the eighties, typified by Schwarzenegger and Stallone.
The humanity of it, opposed to the brute murder and one-liners of the film, and the inevitability of our living in such a world in the not too distant future have made this book something of a surprise high-rater. Buzzing.
It struck me the other day when talking to my mum, and then considering her, my dad and mother-in-law's literary and televisual preoccupation with crime drama how their outlooks differ to mine. My mum and mother-in-law watch CSI and Law and Order like bastards. My dad and mum can't get enough of Michael Connelly (I'll admit I've read 6/7 of his books and was well into them). I think this speaks of a knowledge and understanding that we live in shit-horrible times where the wicked run amok, but there are always the forces of good battling away and proving victorious against the forces of evil. I suppose that's the vein tapped by comic book superheroes too. Plus the fascist cop element.
For me, it's just pure fucking desolation and any payoff comes from opening your eyes further than the average bear and seeing the world for what it is and realising things like popular entertainment, culture and faith in the powers (whether temporal or celestial) are only distractions from how utterly and crushingly bereft of hope we are. Jesus, that's depressing. It's like earning your place in an elite club where you get to eat these amazing, handmade gourmet chocolates. Except they taste of turd. All self-serving feelings of superiority hang by a thread when faced with such a bitter reward.
Our fascination with dystopian works is a bit weird. Whether they're indictments of the current state or portents of how bollocks it's bound to get, you don't get points for seeing it that way and those that do see it don't seem to be prepared or making preparations for it.
Anyway, the book is great and pisses on the film. That said I have a fondness for the film and, seeing as I bought it for £3 a few months ago, I'll be watching it again, any day now.
However, my chronology is all messed up. As a kid, I definitely saw the film first, then read the book. The thing is, I may as well have been reading it for the first time, this time around as hardly any of it seemed familiar.
Anyway, to business; I loved the book. Loved it. It reeks of the same jilted nihilism as Roadwork and the world it evokes is much closer to the dystopian classics than the jingoistic, wronged lone justice-seekers of the eighties, typified by Schwarzenegger and Stallone.
The humanity of it, opposed to the brute murder and one-liners of the film, and the inevitability of our living in such a world in the not too distant future have made this book something of a surprise high-rater. Buzzing.
It struck me the other day when talking to my mum, and then considering her, my dad and mother-in-law's literary and televisual preoccupation with crime drama how their outlooks differ to mine. My mum and mother-in-law watch CSI and Law and Order like bastards. My dad and mum can't get enough of Michael Connelly (I'll admit I've read 6/7 of his books and was well into them). I think this speaks of a knowledge and understanding that we live in shit-horrible times where the wicked run amok, but there are always the forces of good battling away and proving victorious against the forces of evil. I suppose that's the vein tapped by comic book superheroes too. Plus the fascist cop element.
For me, it's just pure fucking desolation and any payoff comes from opening your eyes further than the average bear and seeing the world for what it is and realising things like popular entertainment, culture and faith in the powers (whether temporal or celestial) are only distractions from how utterly and crushingly bereft of hope we are. Jesus, that's depressing. It's like earning your place in an elite club where you get to eat these amazing, handmade gourmet chocolates. Except they taste of turd. All self-serving feelings of superiority hang by a thread when faced with such a bitter reward.
Our fascination with dystopian works is a bit weird. Whether they're indictments of the current state or portents of how bollocks it's bound to get, you don't get points for seeing it that way and those that do see it don't seem to be prepared or making preparations for it.
Anyway, the book is great and pisses on the film. That said I have a fondness for the film and, seeing as I bought it for £3 a few months ago, I'll be watching it again, any day now.
Thursday, 30 December 2010
The Running Man - 30th December 2010
So, I'm going with the contraversial (to someone, somewhere) move of reading two books concurrently. I think The Running Man was published before Danse Macabre anyway, so I'm only realigning the axis.
I read The Running Man as a kid but only really remember the film. I don't think I've seen it since I was a kid, probably younger than its 18 certificate, but it's all there. My lasting impression is equal parts awesome and cheesy shit. I picked it on DVD a while ago for a couple of quid so, once I've read it, I'll see whether I can still stomach Arnie.
As for Danse Macabre I haven't got too far. While King's writing is anything but dry, the book takes a degree of concentration and application that can be difficult to maintain when there are two pre-schoolers charging about and you're perpetually knackered. Whatever.
It also doesn't help that I've just ripped through Chelsea Cain's Gretchen Lowell books. Naughty boy. Time to get back on task.
Sunday, 28 November 2010
Danse Macabre - 28th November
Cujo 6th-26th November
Awesome. It's the first one that's really got under my skin and gripped me with the threat and terror of the story.
The thing that stood out most of all for me was the relationships. I'm guessing King let a lot of himself out in this one. It gives the impression of having been written by a parent who is wont to analyse not only their position as parent and their relationship with the child and spouse but also their own parents. Much of the book is tied to these familial relations and, as a parent of young children, it was an easy identifier.
As for my fear of dogs, it hasn't done anything to exacerbate it. After all, it's only a story. If anything, it has made me question and analyse it. I can easily identify where my fear originated and see why I've never overcome it. Perhaps, for my own wellness of mind, it's time I properly addressed my phobia.
The thing that stood out most of all for me was the relationships. I'm guessing King let a lot of himself out in this one. It gives the impression of having been written by a parent who is wont to analyse not only their position as parent and their relationship with the child and spouse but also their own parents. Much of the book is tied to these familial relations and, as a parent of young children, it was an easy identifier.
As for my fear of dogs, it hasn't done anything to exacerbate it. After all, it's only a story. If anything, it has made me question and analyse it. I can easily identify where my fear originated and see why I've never overcome it. Perhaps, for my own wellness of mind, it's time I properly addressed my phobia.
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Cujo - interim thoughts
I read on wikipedia that King was shit-faced when he wrote it and, in fact, barely remembers writing it. Surely confirmation bias, but I think that comes across. You can tell he's a bit loose and wild and, while the word is beginning to grate on me, there's a rawness to the writing. It's a bit like the filter is pulled back and the 'off the cuff' is blazing through. There being no chapters, just one irrepressible narrative is the plainest evidence. The way he's talking about the infidelity must resonate with our married brethren. We're good lads who would never roam, but the fear of your spouse doing so is as terrifying as a rabid dog. Whether it was something our boy went through, or not, I don't know but I think he's got the feelings and reaction down.
I know it doesn't have a lot to do with the effect of the horror, but I'm loving this book so far.
I know it doesn't have a lot to do with the effect of the horror, but I'm loving this book so far.
Saturday, 6 November 2010
Cujo - 6th November
I've a feeling this one's going to put me about. That's because I am scared of dogs. Not all dogs. It's a fear borne of childhood experience, compounded by the fact that I've never really been around dogs since. For a long time, when I was growing up, there was an Alsatian two doors up that was allowed to roam free on the street. Untrained and owned by absolute fucking scrubbers, it was often encouraged to chase us kids on our bikes or to jump up at us while we sat on a high wall. I'm probably exaggerating when I say that for a good few years, I would have to leave the house on full alert for canine attack. It only bit me one time and it was only a nip on the arse and as much a result of my innate fear as its cunthole owners and complete lack of training, but I immediately get the fear when I see a dog on the street.
Some breeds I'm fine with. Well, labradors and anything I could feasibly kick to a safe distance. Please don't get me wrong, I wish no harm on any dog, or any other animal, and know that dangerous dogs are the product of shitty owners. However, I can't help the fact that when I see someone approaching with a dog on a lead, I start judging the dog's strength and potential ferocity versus the owner's strength, grip on the lead and even the durability of the lead itself. Now, if the dog is loose, I'm looking to cross the road, wondering whether I should just turn back, all the while looking for a high fence or wall to climb should it come to that.
I know responsible dog owners are probably shaking their heads, but I can't help it. All that considered, here goes Cujo.
Roadwork - 14th October-6th November 2010
I'll start by saying how much I liked Roadwork. A lot.
The least 'horror' of his books I've read so far, barring Rage, it's the one I've found most affecting. The realisation that your humanity is of mere and fleeting concern to the emergent power brokers and ruling elite is crushing enough. In Bart's case, this came after a lifetime of servitude and labour. For the majority of us, it's the road that lays before us and we at least have the option, however grudgingly, whether to trudge its desolate expanse or break free and cavort in the pasture. We're not, like Bart, faced with looking back at the idea of working for a family run or 'community ethos' company with a vested and nurturing interest in its employees as people, not just a commodity or a profit margin factor becoming an arcane and romantic vestige of the past. I don't know...which is worse? Being dealt a shit hand, knowing the deck is stacked or winning a few hands before the rules of the game are changed and breaking even, never-mind winning, is categorically, no longer on the cards.
While the majority of us would have just eaten the shit sandwich with a nod and a smile, accepting the relocations with barely a grumble, it was nice to see him stand up for himself, no matter how ill-fated and unhinged the execution. I suppose, these days, we'd confine our dissatisfactions to tweets and Facebook updates.
Add in the early death of a son and not only do you have an assassinated past but there's also a strangled future to contend with. To say that, as a parent of young children, I felt this more keenly, is an affront to empathy, but there's something particularly chilling to me about the summary suffocation of such a depth of hopes, dreams and transferred aspirations.
I felt his frustrations, and the breakdown of marriage struck a chord. With six years under our belts, my wife and I know that it's never always plain sailing. The thing is, you've committed to be each other's port in the every inevitable storm and that's not easy either, but it's a mutual arrangement that relies on equal participation. He didn't keep his end of the bargain and paid for it. But he's (just a) man and we're awesome at fucking things up, so he's not wholly undeserving of sympathy.
Anyway, no matter how stunted and poorly thought out my ideas in reaction to the book have come across here, I loved Roadwork.
The least 'horror' of his books I've read so far, barring Rage, it's the one I've found most affecting. The realisation that your humanity is of mere and fleeting concern to the emergent power brokers and ruling elite is crushing enough. In Bart's case, this came after a lifetime of servitude and labour. For the majority of us, it's the road that lays before us and we at least have the option, however grudgingly, whether to trudge its desolate expanse or break free and cavort in the pasture. We're not, like Bart, faced with looking back at the idea of working for a family run or 'community ethos' company with a vested and nurturing interest in its employees as people, not just a commodity or a profit margin factor becoming an arcane and romantic vestige of the past. I don't know...which is worse? Being dealt a shit hand, knowing the deck is stacked or winning a few hands before the rules of the game are changed and breaking even, never-mind winning, is categorically, no longer on the cards.
While the majority of us would have just eaten the shit sandwich with a nod and a smile, accepting the relocations with barely a grumble, it was nice to see him stand up for himself, no matter how ill-fated and unhinged the execution. I suppose, these days, we'd confine our dissatisfactions to tweets and Facebook updates.
Add in the early death of a son and not only do you have an assassinated past but there's also a strangled future to contend with. To say that, as a parent of young children, I felt this more keenly, is an affront to empathy, but there's something particularly chilling to me about the summary suffocation of such a depth of hopes, dreams and transferred aspirations.
I felt his frustrations, and the breakdown of marriage struck a chord. With six years under our belts, my wife and I know that it's never always plain sailing. The thing is, you've committed to be each other's port in the every inevitable storm and that's not easy either, but it's a mutual arrangement that relies on equal participation. He didn't keep his end of the bargain and paid for it. But he's (just a) man and we're awesome at fucking things up, so he's not wholly undeserving of sympathy.
Anyway, no matter how stunted and poorly thought out my ideas in reaction to the book have come across here, I loved Roadwork.
Monday, 18 October 2010
Roadwork
I'm not going to bother deciding either way whether I've read this bad boy before. I'd like to say yes, but I can't actually say for sure. Voyage of discovery and everything.
I actually read the first dozen pages or so when I mistakenly convinced myself that it came after the Dead Zone and was quickly taken by it. This time for real.
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Firestarter 26th Sep - 13th October
So, I went into Firestarter under the impression that I'd read it already. I I don't think I had. It didn't take all that long to realise my error. I was also sure that I'd seen the film. Fuck knows.
I've a feeling I'm allowing the end of Carrie to confuse my addled memory, but still, I can't shake the feeling that I have read it. Once again, fuck knows. I know for sure that I've seen Firestarter 2. The only reason I did watch it was due to it starring Jason London who played Randall 'Pink' Floyd in Linklater's Dazed and Confused - I am clearly a fucking genius, as I've just looked it up and it was actually The Rage: Carrie 2, that he was in. I have, however, definitely seen that. Unsurprisingly, I can't can't remember anything about it. What fucking use am I?
Anyway, yet again, no horror. I really enjoyed it, though, as predictable as it ultimately was, the unfolding of the story was well worth the ride.
I feel a bit sloppy in not having much to say about the book. I enjoyed it, but didn't think it was amazing.
I've a feeling I'm allowing the end of Carrie to confuse my addled memory, but still, I can't shake the feeling that I have read it. Once again, fuck knows. I know for sure that I've seen Firestarter 2. The only reason I did watch it was due to it starring Jason London who played Randall 'Pink' Floyd in Linklater's Dazed and Confused - I am clearly a fucking genius, as I've just looked it up and it was actually The Rage: Carrie 2, that he was in. I have, however, definitely seen that. Unsurprisingly, I can't can't remember anything about it. What fucking use am I?
Anyway, yet again, no horror. I really enjoyed it, though, as predictable as it ultimately was, the unfolding of the story was well worth the ride.
I feel a bit sloppy in not having much to say about the book. I enjoyed it, but didn't think it was amazing.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Firestarter
I started Firestarter Sunday night 26th September. The reason there's a day's gap between me finishing The Dead Zone and moving on to the next is that I got a little confused and decided that Roadwork actually came after The Dead Zone. I'd only got a few pages in and was feeling it, ready to see where we were headed. Out of interest, I took a quick look to see what came after that and how long I had before I got to a book I hadn't yet procured. I then saw my error and had to dig out my copy of Firestarter. As it happens, I've read both before but, quite pleasingly, none of it seems too familiar so far. In truth, at fifty pages, I'm questioning my memory with a fervour as I'm sure I've already read Firestarter, but I don't remember any of what I've read in the first fifty pages. I read it while I was at school and either borrowed it from the school library or the main library in Barnsley. Fucked it I know. My memory is clearly bollocks.
p.s. fuck the Prodigy.
The Dead Zone 30th August - 24th September
As I said before, going into it, I didn't know the first thing about this book. In the end, I came to see that Cronenberg made a film based on it. I haven't seen it, but I'm going to. Mainly because I'd like to see if there's any horror in it as I didn't find any in the book.
That's not to say that I didn't enjoy the book. I really did. I was with him to the end and, after the 'all tied up in a bow' ending of The Stand, it was nice that he didn't pussy out on getting Johnny killed. I know there was coda to exonerate him and Stillson was revealed to the world as a cunt. But still, the hero died. Good for you Mr King.
I'm starting to get the feeling that I'm a bit old for this or maybe too cynical and indulgently jaded. I already hate myself for saying it. What I mean is that I don't know whether I'm going to get the desired effect, particularly when the subject of the book is telekenesis, psychic abilities and supernatural powers etc. I don't believe in any of them. Fuck, I know that none of that matters. I don't believe in ghosts and yet I nearly babbed my pants watching Ju On:The Grudge. I can't be arsed to list all the other films where I bit my nails until my fingers bled, sweat like a beast through the suspense and yelped in fright at the jumpy moments, but I do, no matter that I don't believe in the phenomena or whatever's providing the threat. I'm sure I've espoused this sort of reaction earlier in the blog, but this book's utter failure to hit me as a horror brought it out again.
If anyone wants to weigh in on how or if it's possible to fear something we know is not real or to what it is that we are actually reacting, then feel free to leave comments.
That's not to say that I didn't enjoy the book. I really did. I was with him to the end and, after the 'all tied up in a bow' ending of The Stand, it was nice that he didn't pussy out on getting Johnny killed. I know there was coda to exonerate him and Stillson was revealed to the world as a cunt. But still, the hero died. Good for you Mr King.
I'm starting to get the feeling that I'm a bit old for this or maybe too cynical and indulgently jaded. I already hate myself for saying it. What I mean is that I don't know whether I'm going to get the desired effect, particularly when the subject of the book is telekenesis, psychic abilities and supernatural powers etc. I don't believe in any of them. Fuck, I know that none of that matters. I don't believe in ghosts and yet I nearly babbed my pants watching Ju On:The Grudge. I can't be arsed to list all the other films where I bit my nails until my fingers bled, sweat like a beast through the suspense and yelped in fright at the jumpy moments, but I do, no matter that I don't believe in the phenomena or whatever's providing the threat. I'm sure I've espoused this sort of reaction earlier in the blog, but this book's utter failure to hit me as a horror brought it out again.
If anyone wants to weigh in on how or if it's possible to fear something we know is not real or to what it is that we are actually reacting, then feel free to leave comments.
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Bed covers
Well, they're not far from covering the bed. It's been a while since I looked at the collection so far. The top row is the read/reading. Clearly there's still a way to go.
As far as collecting all of his books, these are the ones I'm missing...
1983 Cycle of the Werewolf
1986 It
1987 The Dark Tower II: The Drawing of the Three
1989 Dolan's Cadillac
1989 My Pretty Pony
1990 Four Past Midnight -Short stories
1993 Nightmares &Dreamscapes - Short stories
1995 Umney's Last Case
1996 The Regulators - Bachman
1997 Six Stories 1997 - Short stories
1999 Storm of the Century
1999 The New Lieutenant's Rap
2004 The Dark Tower VI: Song of Susannah
2004 The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower
2005 The Colorado Kid
2007 Blaze - Bachman
2009 Ur
2010 Blockade Billy
2010 Full Dark, No Stars
I included the last one because it'll be out by the time I get to it. So will a few more, I should imagine.
Monday, 30 August 2010
The Dead Zone
I started The Dead Zone this morning - 30th August. I know in terms of living in the world, I could be considered something of a troglodyte because of this, but I'm happy to say that, going into the book, I didn't know the first thing about it. It's only as I've just gone to find the cover picture (not the same as the edition I'm reading, but I like how shit this one looks) that I saw it was made into a film by Cronenberg. I also couldn't avoid a one line synopsis which I'm pleased to say was covered by the first chapter anyway.It's a bit of lame habit of mine to avoid finding out too much about any book or film before I read or watch them. I don't read generally read reviews to steer clear of spoilers. Anyway, troglodyte or otherwise, my mind is open to The Dead Zone and I'm well up for it.
Currently Listening:
Ride Your Bike - The Connection
Iron Maiden - The Final Frontier
Meshuggah - All (mainly when running)
Stieg Larsson - The Girl Who Played with Fire (audiobook)
The Long Walk 21-29 August
That's more like it. Despite having spent most evenings for the past couple of months playing guitar in preparation for playing the service music for a workmate's wedding, I knocked this bad boy off in a week. Of course, it's only two hundred and something pages, but that's not the point. I found the discipline I pissed away while reading The Stand and was able to immerse myself in The Long Walk. There I go with that word again; immerse.
That's the point though. Books demand and deserve immersion. I'll consult my thesaurus next time I revisit the concept. Reading The Long Walk again takes me back to the time I first read it. Having picked up The Bachman Books at home after watching The Running Man for the fifth time, I blasted through the novel before immediately turning to the other three works in the collection. I can't think of the book without remembering my old room in the house I grew up in. I clearly remember going to bed early and a staying up later than advisable, knowing that I'd be tired at school the next day. I wondered whether I'd rose-tinted my memory of the book but was heartened by friends who were equally quick to remark on how much they'd loved it.
As it turns out, I think I may have rose-tinted it a bit. In truth, though, there are a couple of reasons for it not having the same impact this time. Firstly, there's no reveal. You already know the horror of 'buying a ticket'. But that's the same with every book or film, it's not going to surprise you a second time. The second reason is down to the overall desensitising effect of some of the truly horrendous things I've seen in films and read in books since. Where it wins out, though, is the marvel of the writing. You're there for the full five and a bit days, matching the Walkers step for step. The story rarely leaves the road but doesn't get overly dull or repetitive.
In an earlier post, when I was talking about my reasons for taking on this mission, I mentioned that I had actually cried at the end of The Long Walk. On second reading, I'm not sure at what point the rising emotion got the better of me, as I didn't feel it this time. I can only imagine it was the very end.I'm a bit gutted that I didn't get the same payoff this time, but it doesn't stop me from cherishing my memory of the first reading as one of the highlights of my lifelong love of reading. I know, I'm getting a bit emo. Fuck it. If you haven't read The Long Walk, I recommend you do so.
A final aside- it struck me that Battle Royale by Kōshun Takami is probably heavily influenced by The Long Walk. That's all. Read that too. Or watch the film. Again.
That's the point though. Books demand and deserve immersion. I'll consult my thesaurus next time I revisit the concept. Reading The Long Walk again takes me back to the time I first read it. Having picked up The Bachman Books at home after watching The Running Man for the fifth time, I blasted through the novel before immediately turning to the other three works in the collection. I can't think of the book without remembering my old room in the house I grew up in. I clearly remember going to bed early and a staying up later than advisable, knowing that I'd be tired at school the next day. I wondered whether I'd rose-tinted my memory of the book but was heartened by friends who were equally quick to remark on how much they'd loved it.
As it turns out, I think I may have rose-tinted it a bit. In truth, though, there are a couple of reasons for it not having the same impact this time. Firstly, there's no reveal. You already know the horror of 'buying a ticket'. But that's the same with every book or film, it's not going to surprise you a second time. The second reason is down to the overall desensitising effect of some of the truly horrendous things I've seen in films and read in books since. Where it wins out, though, is the marvel of the writing. You're there for the full five and a bit days, matching the Walkers step for step. The story rarely leaves the road but doesn't get overly dull or repetitive.
In an earlier post, when I was talking about my reasons for taking on this mission, I mentioned that I had actually cried at the end of The Long Walk. On second reading, I'm not sure at what point the rising emotion got the better of me, as I didn't feel it this time. I can only imagine it was the very end.I'm a bit gutted that I didn't get the same payoff this time, but it doesn't stop me from cherishing my memory of the first reading as one of the highlights of my lifelong love of reading. I know, I'm getting a bit emo. Fuck it. If you haven't read The Long Walk, I recommend you do so.
A final aside- it struck me that Battle Royale by Kōshun Takami is probably heavily influenced by The Long Walk. That's all. Read that too. Or watch the film. Again.
Monday, 23 August 2010
The Long Walk
The Stand - 8th Mar - 21st August
Jesus, I took my time with this one.
As I said at the beginning of The Stand, I was really looking forward to it. Having enjoyed the short stories of Night Shift less than expected, I was ready for a big old story to get wrapped up in. Stories don’t get much bigger than The Stand. However, I don’t think I did it justice.
I’ll stop pussy-footing around and say that I wasn’t blown away. This isn’t a book review or literary criticism, so what I’m going to say next shouldn’t be misconstrued as evidence of a weakness of my critical acumen, or a blind apologia for King. This blog is a record of my personal reaction to the works.
The scope and scale of the story did blow me away. To build and maintain the strands of the narrative over 1400 pages is something that I struggle to even begin to consider. Then again, I’m not a writer and I certainly don’t have the discipline and organisation to construct the web of a novel. But still, only a douche bag could refuse to accept the impressiveness of the magnitude of this book.
At the same time, its size was the root of many of the problems I had with its reading. For a start, you can’t sit down to a brick of a book with the same mindset as a novella or regular length novel. You know that he’s going to be taking his sweet time in establishing the multitude of strands before unravelling or entwining them. As I’ve probably said a dozen or so times, my reading time is greatly diminished these days. Reading in snatches, here and there is bad enough, but I’ve also had a few other projects on the go. It’s the sort of book you could do with putting a few full days into, maybe on holiday or if you have shit all else on. I’ll accept that my disjointed approach contributed to my failure to agree with those who think it’s his masterwork.
Perhaps it would have been different if I’d not taken so long over reading it, but I wasn’t swept up by the desperation and suspense of the plot. Randall Flagg didn’t scare me. I must be getting wooden-heartedly cynical as I get older but, convinced that there’s going to be an ultimately happy ending, it was hard to be truly affected by the machinations and fates of the exhaustively fleshed-out characters. Re-reading that last sentence, I can smell the bullshit of it myself. The vast majority of books and films come to a happy Hollywood conclusion. Their appeal to our base instinct that hopes ‘everything will turn out alright in the end’ is a huge key to their success. I’m sure I’m not alone in having an attraction to those books and films that subvert this norm and go with a more ambiguous outcome, or just plain admit that the cunts of the world often win out. I think really, a lot of it also probably had a lot to do with the fixation on good an evil as a battle between god and the devil. I’m sure I’ll come across as an immense hypocrite but I have no trouble imagining ghosts and demonic possessions and supernatural abilities, but when it comes to people acting as agents of the Lord and the success of their endeavours being contingent on their faith and following ‘prophecies’ I’m just along for the ride to see where we end up at that point. And the less said about the literal ‘deus ex-machina’ in the dénouement, the better.
It feels like a bit of a shame that I let that spoil it for me, especially considering the incredible depth and scope of the build up. I was gutted that Nick Andros bought it when he did. I much preferred him as a character than Stu and Ralph and a host of others. But that’s the way it goes. As always, his writing is the saving grace. I don’t think I’ll be too disappointed with any of his books as I work through them all. While I’m sure there’ll be some that just don’t click with me, I’m always going to get something from the very reading of him.
Thinking on, there was something else that contributed to my inability to really connect and adhere to The Stand. Christ almighty, did you see me there? I just used the word ‘connect’ in the Oprah sense. I feel way worse about that than I do about using the word ‘adhere’. Anyway, I’m sure the two or three people who read this will forgive me this indiscretion. Back to the point; it probably doesn’t help that I’ve read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and also saw the film this year. As far as post-apocalyptic stories go, I found McCarthy’s about a hundred times more affecting. It’s probably borne of an interminable selfishness, which I no doubt share with the vast majority of humankind, in that when faced with the catastrophically altered and inevitably doomed fate of mankind, I would be primarily worried about how I would see it through from day to day and how I would ensure that those closest to me survived too. It’s an unfair and probably unnecessary comparison, but I couldn’t avoid it. The stories of the resurrection of the power plant and electrical grid and the fact that they were so quickly able to reconstruct a relatively ‘normal’ existence within a year seemed to soften the blow. Of course it didn’t, but there was way too much going on to get bogged down in the shattering grief of so many characters.
I’m probably setting myself up for a lot of hours of disappointment and swimming against the tide in my reading of the coming books, but one thing that struck me during my reading of The Stand was that I repeatedly compared it to a TV series. This year, I’ve been watching Dexter, Lost and Six Feet Under among others. While I love them all, you can’t deny that in the telling of their stories, there’s a lot of padding. To make my point, if you compare a 100 minute or two hour film to these series with their 12 to 24 episodes of 40-60 minutes each, you effectively have about the same length overall plot arcs, but the series cram in half a dozen cliff-hangers, stories within stories, asides etc. They’re obviously different, but closely related media that have similarly different strengths and pitfalls. For a film, things need to be that bit tighter, while a series has more freedom, but has to maintain the momentum with something more than end of episode cliff-hangers to keep you coming back week after week. There are times when watching a TV series that you’ll come to the end of the show and wonder whether anything has actually happened, or they could have probably covered the worthwhile stuff in about ten minutes. There are series that could easily be cut down to feature length and you wouldn’t even feel rushed. Of course, I don’t have examples. I’m not that much of a TV and film nerd to have them, and neither am I that convinced by my argument to do so. I’m just running my mouth.
I guess the important thing is that there are some TV show episodes, take Lost for example, where they barely progress the plot. How about the one in the last series that gave the back story for Jacob and his brother? Depending on how you look at it, they could have left it out. However, for me, it was enough to spend another hour in the world of Lost, bathing in the depth and texture of the intricately woven story, climbing and swinging from another thread of the narrative, before leaping to another vine next week.
After all that interminable bollocks, I should probably be asking myself whether The Stand would have worked as a 200-300 page novel, to complete this metaphor. The short answer is: yes, and there’s no doubt King could have done it, but it was never meant to be and the question is intrinsically moot.
OK, I’m done. I didn’t love The Stand, but I loved a lot about it.
As I said at the beginning of The Stand, I was really looking forward to it. Having enjoyed the short stories of Night Shift less than expected, I was ready for a big old story to get wrapped up in. Stories don’t get much bigger than The Stand. However, I don’t think I did it justice.
I’ll stop pussy-footing around and say that I wasn’t blown away. This isn’t a book review or literary criticism, so what I’m going to say next shouldn’t be misconstrued as evidence of a weakness of my critical acumen, or a blind apologia for King. This blog is a record of my personal reaction to the works.
The scope and scale of the story did blow me away. To build and maintain the strands of the narrative over 1400 pages is something that I struggle to even begin to consider. Then again, I’m not a writer and I certainly don’t have the discipline and organisation to construct the web of a novel. But still, only a douche bag could refuse to accept the impressiveness of the magnitude of this book.
At the same time, its size was the root of many of the problems I had with its reading. For a start, you can’t sit down to a brick of a book with the same mindset as a novella or regular length novel. You know that he’s going to be taking his sweet time in establishing the multitude of strands before unravelling or entwining them. As I’ve probably said a dozen or so times, my reading time is greatly diminished these days. Reading in snatches, here and there is bad enough, but I’ve also had a few other projects on the go. It’s the sort of book you could do with putting a few full days into, maybe on holiday or if you have shit all else on. I’ll accept that my disjointed approach contributed to my failure to agree with those who think it’s his masterwork.
Perhaps it would have been different if I’d not taken so long over reading it, but I wasn’t swept up by the desperation and suspense of the plot. Randall Flagg didn’t scare me. I must be getting wooden-heartedly cynical as I get older but, convinced that there’s going to be an ultimately happy ending, it was hard to be truly affected by the machinations and fates of the exhaustively fleshed-out characters. Re-reading that last sentence, I can smell the bullshit of it myself. The vast majority of books and films come to a happy Hollywood conclusion. Their appeal to our base instinct that hopes ‘everything will turn out alright in the end’ is a huge key to their success. I’m sure I’m not alone in having an attraction to those books and films that subvert this norm and go with a more ambiguous outcome, or just plain admit that the cunts of the world often win out. I think really, a lot of it also probably had a lot to do with the fixation on good an evil as a battle between god and the devil. I’m sure I’ll come across as an immense hypocrite but I have no trouble imagining ghosts and demonic possessions and supernatural abilities, but when it comes to people acting as agents of the Lord and the success of their endeavours being contingent on their faith and following ‘prophecies’ I’m just along for the ride to see where we end up at that point. And the less said about the literal ‘deus ex-machina’ in the dénouement, the better.
It feels like a bit of a shame that I let that spoil it for me, especially considering the incredible depth and scope of the build up. I was gutted that Nick Andros bought it when he did. I much preferred him as a character than Stu and Ralph and a host of others. But that’s the way it goes. As always, his writing is the saving grace. I don’t think I’ll be too disappointed with any of his books as I work through them all. While I’m sure there’ll be some that just don’t click with me, I’m always going to get something from the very reading of him.
Thinking on, there was something else that contributed to my inability to really connect and adhere to The Stand. Christ almighty, did you see me there? I just used the word ‘connect’ in the Oprah sense. I feel way worse about that than I do about using the word ‘adhere’. Anyway, I’m sure the two or three people who read this will forgive me this indiscretion. Back to the point; it probably doesn’t help that I’ve read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and also saw the film this year. As far as post-apocalyptic stories go, I found McCarthy’s about a hundred times more affecting. It’s probably borne of an interminable selfishness, which I no doubt share with the vast majority of humankind, in that when faced with the catastrophically altered and inevitably doomed fate of mankind, I would be primarily worried about how I would see it through from day to day and how I would ensure that those closest to me survived too. It’s an unfair and probably unnecessary comparison, but I couldn’t avoid it. The stories of the resurrection of the power plant and electrical grid and the fact that they were so quickly able to reconstruct a relatively ‘normal’ existence within a year seemed to soften the blow. Of course it didn’t, but there was way too much going on to get bogged down in the shattering grief of so many characters.
I’m probably setting myself up for a lot of hours of disappointment and swimming against the tide in my reading of the coming books, but one thing that struck me during my reading of The Stand was that I repeatedly compared it to a TV series. This year, I’ve been watching Dexter, Lost and Six Feet Under among others. While I love them all, you can’t deny that in the telling of their stories, there’s a lot of padding. To make my point, if you compare a 100 minute or two hour film to these series with their 12 to 24 episodes of 40-60 minutes each, you effectively have about the same length overall plot arcs, but the series cram in half a dozen cliff-hangers, stories within stories, asides etc. They’re obviously different, but closely related media that have similarly different strengths and pitfalls. For a film, things need to be that bit tighter, while a series has more freedom, but has to maintain the momentum with something more than end of episode cliff-hangers to keep you coming back week after week. There are times when watching a TV series that you’ll come to the end of the show and wonder whether anything has actually happened, or they could have probably covered the worthwhile stuff in about ten minutes. There are series that could easily be cut down to feature length and you wouldn’t even feel rushed. Of course, I don’t have examples. I’m not that much of a TV and film nerd to have them, and neither am I that convinced by my argument to do so. I’m just running my mouth.
I guess the important thing is that there are some TV show episodes, take Lost for example, where they barely progress the plot. How about the one in the last series that gave the back story for Jacob and his brother? Depending on how you look at it, they could have left it out. However, for me, it was enough to spend another hour in the world of Lost, bathing in the depth and texture of the intricately woven story, climbing and swinging from another thread of the narrative, before leaping to another vine next week.
After all that interminable bollocks, I should probably be asking myself whether The Stand would have worked as a 200-300 page novel, to complete this metaphor. The short answer is: yes, and there’s no doubt King could have done it, but it was never meant to be and the question is intrinsically moot.
OK, I’m done. I didn’t love The Stand, but I loved a lot about it.
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