I remember we listened to the audiobook of a particular one. I'm quite certain it was the first Stephen King I ever read, but my friend Kyle was not a complete novice to the author's work. We were probably around twelve or thirteen. One of my former teachers had dismissed King as "trashy" and confiscated my other friend's copy of Pet Semetary when he was reading it in class. I think I had unconsciously adopted the same view. But this book changed my mind, and within approximately two years, I think I read nearly ten of his other books. Since I can't recall any experiences with King's writing before this, I'm going to maintain my claim that this was my first.
It's an odd book to begin one's acquaintance with such a popular and influential contemporary writer. He starts right off with a foreword about this Richard Bachman person, whom I knew nothing about. The entire novel is deeply intertwined with the creative process; the actual emotional and psychological implications of writing. It all feels very personal, even if it's not truly autobiographical, and I feel like I should have known King a little better before reading this book. Nevertheless, I immediately noticed how appealing the man's style was. These days, I'd say that Stephen King is a very reliable three-star writer. Even if by the end of a King book, you feel like you've had a meal consisting entirely of noodles or rice, it's always a rather delicious one. And you don't really notice how much irrelevant stuff he's included until you're done and start thinking about how not much actually happened in over 400 pages. I would say that King is definitely at his best in the short story format, where he has to stay tightly focused, but his novels are always highly readable, and he works really hard to keep you engaged with his characters throughout all those pages.
I admit that I don't remember a great deal about this book. I'm particularly drawing a blank on how George Stark became a "real" person, but I don't think that really matters all that much. It's probably just one of those strange psychospiritual things that allegedly happen to crazy artist types if they're not careful, especially if you believe the words of the artists themselves. I felt then, and I still do now, that I was, at the time, precisely the kind of person for whom King was writing. I suppose a large number of people feel the same way; that's why he's sold millions of books. This book was the first time I'd ever come across the word "psychopomp," and I instantly loved the concept. I'm pretty sure Kyle and I stayed up all night/morning listening to that audiobook, although I seem to remember pausing it for a couple of hours because an incredibly silly movie called Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter came on television. Do they still show that kind of thing on regular cable? Anyway, this book hooked me on King for a while. Although I never did consider him an absolute favorite, I was very glad to discover him and find that he was not, in fact, trashy at all... just a bit insubstantial at times. Over time, I grew to respect the man himself more than I actually liked his work because of the way he always talks about his influences (I imagine Stephen King and I could have a great discussion about literature), how he eagerly supports other writers, and is genuine and open about much of what he does. I'm glad the man is still writing, and I find that I'll always have time for him in one way or another.