
Decades before Stephen King penned his renowned book on craft, On Writing, he wrote this particular work. It focuses specifically on the craft of horror writing, yet can also be regarded as a history of the genre. King doesn't confine his retrospective solely to books. Movies, TV classics like “The Twilight Zone,” and even radio plays are all encompassed. I adored every insight he offered regarding the writing process and the dissection of the emotion of fear. The master of scariness elucidates that terror, horror, and gross-outs are three distinct things. Terror is entirely psychological, horror pertains to crossing boundaries, and we're all familiar with what a gross-out is. Terror is the ideal, but King admits he's not averse to the gross-out when necessary.
The book did have two drawbacks. Firstly, whenever he expounded on some movie I'd never heard of, I became bored. Since he's such a master storyteller, I persevered through those parts because I knew a captivating personal story would ultimately follow. However, if you're not a die-hard horror fan, some portions of this book will likely bore you too. Secondly, the book is dated, having been written in the 1980s. But datedness has its own allure, so I'll concentrate on that for the remainder of this review.
The interesting aspect of datedness is that you get to witness the author's former perspective in light of what you know now. For instance, King discusses 1970s science fiction movies about environmental apocalypse. Such movies are still made today, but now that we're closer to the crisis, the tone is even more severe, and the subject is more likely to be taken up by journalists rather than fiction writers. The same holds true for Arab terrorism. The Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran was the major threat when this book was written, but even the dark imagination of Stephen King didn't anticipate 9/11.
The differences in his personal life were even more fascinating. He refers to his seven-year-old son Joe several times in the book, which made me chuckle. But the best part was his attitude towards the film adaptations of his books. At that point, only three had been made: Carrie, 'Salem's Lot, and The Shining. It's now known that King loathed the film version of The Shining, and I wholeheartedly concur with him. The movie failed to capture any of the depth of the psychic child at the core of the story. But his criticism was mild in this book. He said the directors treated his work “fairly,” and he felt “relieved.” But director Rob Reiner relates the story that when he screened “Stand By Me” for King, at first he was silent, and then he said he needed to take a walk. When he returned, he said, “That was the first time a movie really captured what I meant in the book.” But that hadn't occurred yet, and he didn't know how excellent an adaptation could be. Since he cites Kubrick's previous movies with admiration, you can understand why he consented to let the famous director work with his material. He had hopes, and he was disappointed, but he couldn't express them as fully then. But now that some directors have done justice to his work, he can feel the contrast all the more keenly.
If you're seeking the terrifying entertainment that Stephen King delivers so adeptly, you won't find it here. But if you relish the analysis of craft, whether as a writer or as a horror enthusiast, there's ample to be gained from reading this book.