THE GREEN MILE Review

Review:

A change of scenery from Stephen King’s usual territory of Maine usually makes for some of the author’s most arresting and impressive fiction (see Duma Key, The Shining, and The Stand). King is an author who seems to thrive on challenge, and setting some stories’ locales outside his comfort zone typically yields successful results. The Green Mile, a historical fiction novel set in the Deep South during the Depression, attests to this. 

Going into this read, I could not entirely remember if I’d ever finished The Green Mile in the first place. I recall starting it in tenth grade, and reading the initial chapters over downtime during driver’s education. But I really don’t think I finished it . . . and why, I’m not sure. Sure, I’ve seen the movie adaptation tons of times; therefore, I was familiar with the story’s ending. Yet that didn’t rob this 1996 novel of its quiet, meditative power. 

After the flabby and exhausting Insomnia and Rose Madder, this was a breath of fresh air. Since The Green Mile was originally published in serial form (a fact I know every single one of you already know, but I feel obligated to say it anyhow), one can tell King really worked hard to cut off the fat and stick to the good stuff. There isn’t a word out of place here: no needless plot lines or wasted dialogue. Everything introduced to the reader is here for a reason. This story has a killer beginning and only gets better, eventually winding down with one of the most heart-wrenching and rewarding endings my favorite author has written to date. 

In short, this work is a marvel. On display is some of the most muscular character work King has managed; not to mention the masterful use of setting. Over every page looms a sense of doom and sorrow; around every corner are hauntings from the past felt by real people, these characters who seem to almost leap off the page. 

I’m not totally sure if this is in my top 5, but it might be. It just might be. 

King Connections:

None, say thankya.

Favorite Quote:

“Time takes it all, whether you want it or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.”

Up Next:

Tomorrow (9/1) is the start of Halloween Bingo! I’ll be reading Desperation for my American Horror Story square.

 

 

Original post:
theguywholovesbooks.booklikes.com/post/1594636/the-green-mile-review

ROSE MADDER Review

Review:

Stephen King once famously proclaimed himself the Big Mac and fries of literature — meaning his works are popular and enjoyable, albeit perhaps lacking in nourishment. I heartily disagree with that assessment, for the most part. Novels such as IT, Dolores Claiborne, and The Dead Zone are intricate, multi-layered masterstrokes; methinks King is too modest in regards to his own creations. 

However. . . the Maine author’s observation does hold true in a few select cases. Christine is a barrel of fun, but it certainly offers no depth. That’s cool. King’s 1983 novel about a haunted car is campy horror at its campiest. I think I would put Rose Madder in the Big Mac and fries category, too: while fun and involving, one comes away feeling full but perhaps not particularly satisfied. 

This is a brutal, hard-edged tale of spousal abuse, escape, and recovery. The main character is Rose, a woman dealt physical and mental trauma from her husband for fourteen years. Rose Madder is her journey to self-discovery and freedom. Like previous novels Gerald’s Game and Dolores Claiborne, King takes an unflinching and daring look at femininity and what it takes to be a woman in the modern age. And, for the most part, he succeeds. 

Perhaps my biggest problem with this story is not the infamous magical painting Rose escapes into (a plot point that didn’t work for me the first time around, but I had a bit more fun with it on this reread), but Norman — the abusive husband. This dude is so over-the-top it’s unreal. King is a master at creating despicable, terrifying humans; it’s nothing short of fascinating that he failed so completely with Norman. He’s a walking cliche, and King never takes the time to give the reader any reason to sympathize with him. He’s just CRAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY from literally page one, and he only gets worse. Because of that, much of this novel’s potential menace is lost. Shame. 

That said, the mythological elements of this novel . . . are interesting. They don’t always work, and sometimes they seem awkwardly juxtaposed with the woman-on-the-run thriller feel, but it’s whatever. King would explore escaping into an alternate, mythic world to better effect in Lisey’s Story. 

Rose Madder is Stephen King at his most average. While containing interesting ideas, some captivating prose (especially that prologue — sheeeeesh!), and a serviceable main character in Rose, this novel just feels tired, inessential. At times I got the sense King was getting bored with the story, and was ready to finish the damn thing. Recommended, but perhaps only for King completists. 

King Connections:

There are a few tangential connections to Dark Tower, such as references to ka and the City of Lud. 

Paul Sheldon of Misery fame gets a few generous shoutouts. 

Favorite Quote: 

“In that instant she knew what it must feel like to cross a river into a foreign country, and then set fire to the bridge behind you, and stand on the riverbank, watching and breathing deeply as your only chance of retreat went up in smoke.” 

Up Next:

I thought Desperation was next, but I forgot The Green Mileexists. Ha!

Original post:
theguywholovesbooks.booklikes.com/post/1593869/rose-madder-review

INSOMNIA Review

Review:

Writing this review is going to break my heart, so I’m going to get it over with as quickly as possible. Deal? Okay.

The most interesting thing about rereading Stephen King’s works in chronological order is seeing how my opinions of them change in comparison to how I felt years ago. Experiencing his releases one after the other in publication order puts them in a new light, and that new light can often shine previously unnoticed brilliance or bring dark shadows to my attention. 

Insomnia is a novel I used to number among my favorites; after this reread, I cannot, in good conscience, give it a higher rating than two stars. It’s just such a deeply silly work. Yeah, the concept itself is one of King’s coolest — Ralph Roberts, elderly Derry resident, begins to see strange auras and Little Bald Doctors after developing insomnia in the months following his wife’s death — but I feel it’s really bungled. Reading this man’s novels in order has opened my eyes to this fact: post-drugs King rambles. A LOT. Entire chapters of this novel could have easily been cut; this thing is filled to the brim with exposition. And yeah, of course I want King to explain this strange concept he’s come up with, but he holds the reader’s hand. Nothing is left to the imagination. And what’s more, not much is done with these crazy happenings — said happenings are merely talked about. It feels like the characters spin their wheels at times by ruminating on the same things. Something happens, and the main characters spend an entire chapter discussing it. Ridiculous. The worst offending scene that comes to mind is Ralph and Lois on the hospital roof. If you’ve read this book, you know what I’m talking about. So much of that chapter could have and should have been axed. 

A large component of this 1994 tome is pro-life vs. pro-choice debate going on in Derry. It’s almost tearing the town apart, though none of it feels particularly . . . vital? Energetic? Like, it feels as though the reader is really supposed to care about this issue, but King writes it so ho-hum. I dunno. As my friend Aaron pointed out, this plot line really doesn’t go much of anywhere; it just gathers everyone up for the finale. Maybe I’m just burned out on politics as of late (despite it deeply annoying me, I stay in tune with the news every day); maybe that’s why reading this grated my nerves a little. The entire political aspect of this work adds a cynical, unpleasant flavor to the dish. (And my god, what is up with everyone in Derry apparently owning a super specific political bumper sticker? Seriously. Like, nine or ten times King makes mention of bumper stickers. Weird.) 

Laborious and so intricately plotted the energy is totally sapped from this doorstop, Insomnia is, unfortunately, the worst time I’ve had in the Stephen King reread yet. From the hokey, unrealistic dialogue to the laughably silly climax featuring the Kingfish, I cannot recommend this one. Though filled with cool references to several King novels — especially his magnum opus, The Dark Tower — this hefty volume is a chore to wade through. 

No favorite quote or references today. I’m grumpy. Sad face.

 

 

 

Original post:
theguywholovesbooks.booklikes.com/post/1587980/insomnia-review

Top 6 Thursday – Favorite Stephen King Book Covers

Welcome to the first installment of Top Six Thursday, a (hopefully) weekly event in which I rank books, music, movies, television shows, episodes of television shows . . . whatever. I am a compulsive list maker; I love it. I have wanted to do something like this for a while, and now that I am using WordPress regularly, I thought it was time to start. Why six? you may ask. Because five and ten are so boring!

I thought it would be appropriate to begin this series of posts with the ranking of my favorite author’s books — specifically, said books’ covers. Let it be known that this is not my top six favorite Stephen King novels. This is a list of my favorite Stephen King novel covers. I am currently in the process of rereading King’s works in chronological order, and I’m sure I will post a ranking of them when I’m finished. But this list ain’t that.

To keep things simple, I stuck to American first editions only. No foreign editions, no paperbacks, no special rereleases. I will probably post a list of my favorite Stephen King paperback covers at some point; for today, however, I am sticking to the hardcovers. Making the selections for the top six was very hard. Though there are definitely bad King book covers out there, I tend to like most of ’em. I had to leave out several I really like, but that’s the appeal of making a list like this, I suppose: being forced to winnow things down to the absolute best.

And so, without further ado . . .

6. Bag of Bones 

Honestly, this cover doesn’t make much sense. Yeah, you’ve got Cara Laughs — the lake house  at which Mike Noonan, the novel’s main character, spends a season of mourning — but it’s much smaller than how it is described in the story. And is that girl supposed to be Mattie? I think so, though she appears to be much older than the Mattie that appears within the pages of this 1998 tome. So, yeah, the artist who rendered this cover didn’t read the story. Okay, fine. It certainly grabs the attention, though, doesn’t it? I just love the aesthetics of this one; it was King’s first novel with Scribner, and its jacket and font have a certain classiness his previous releases lacked. I will freely admit my affection for it is purely sentimental. I recall shopping at an outdoor flea market on my sixteenth birthday and coming across a battered bookcase, in which were a few Stephen King hardcovers. Five bucks a pop, if I remember correctly. Being a relatively new Constant Reader at the time, I didn’t have many King hardbacks in my collection. I’d spent most of my birthday money already, so funds were pretty low; my choice was between The Tommyknockers, Different Seasons, and this. I chose Bag of Bones — and only for that cover.

5. Mr. Mercedes 

Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting to put a modern King release on this list. It’s no secret most of the artwork for his books released in the last fifteen years or so has sucked (aside from a few exceptions). This one, like Bag of Bones, simply arrests me. It’s minimalistic in the best kind of way: the color scheme works magically. The font works; the blood drops and umbrella, too. And don’t forget that smiley face button! This cover manages to feel modern while retaining a certain edge new releases often lack.

 

4. Desperation 

I have almost no love for this novel, but isn’t that artwork sick? This is a big, gritty, nasty story; the cover gets that message cross quite clearly. Of course, it gets bonus points for linking up perfectly to its sister release, Richard Bachman’s The Regulators. I almost considered the Bachman novels for this list, but decided against it. Why? ‘Cause thems the rules.

Unlike other King books, this one’s font isn’t make-or-break (as in, sometimes a font can catapult a cover from lame to okay. Case in point: The Dead Zone), but it certainly doesn’t hurt.

 

3. It 

This one is a classic. ‘Nuff said.

 

2. Misery 

For some reason, this almost didn’t make the list. That would’ve been borderline blasphemy, methinks. I must first comment on the font used for King’s name: I don’t know the name of it, but isn’t it grand? It was first used on the cover of Different Seasons and was employed through Nightmares and Dreamscapes. If it were to come back, I certainly wouldn’t mind (of course, that is highly unlikely as those books were published with Viking and King is now, of course, signed on with Scribner). Like Bag of Bones, this cover has sentimental value. I was a newcomer to the world of King at that time (summer 2010). I owned a few battered paperbacks I’d bought from a used bookstore, but hadn’t had much luck getting on with them. I wanted to like Stephen King, as he seemed so popular and I was desperate to find a favorite author. One day, I was browsing the shelves of my local library and stumbled across the hardcover edition of Misery. The artwork — that bloody, dripping title and the ax-wielding silhouette — grabbed me. The goofy author photo on the back clinched the deal. Because of its cover, Misery was the first King novel I read in full.

 

1. Pet Sematary 

I mean, could the number one spot be anything else? The delightfully creepy (and oh-so memorable!) font, the exquisitely dirty earth tones, the yowling cat in the foreground, the country cemetery in the background . . . this cover is in a class all its own. It captures the menace and dread of the novel so perfectly, without being kitsch or hokey. It’s ’80s horror artwork at its pinnacle. Is that hyperbolic of me to say? Maybe a little, but . . . I really think it’s not.

That’s my list, imperfect though it may be. I had to leave several favorites (Cujo, Under the Dome, Duma Key, Needful Things, Dolores Claiborne) off, but the six featured above are the ones I find myself coming back to most often.

What are your favorite Stephen King book covers?