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I've never been an ardent Stephen King fan, even though he is extremely local to me. I grew up just one town away from the tiny rural tract in Maine where he attended elementary school (Durham, where my great great grandmother's brother started a cult and ultimately mismanaged his flock into a manslaughter charge). And I was two towns away from where he graduated from high school (Lisbon Falls...where Maine's first mass shooter's body was finally found two days ago...). I've hiked along the river referenced to locate Salem's Lot, and searched for minerals along the railroad tracks that supposedly inspired Stand by Me. Several of my favorite films are adapted from his work. But the couple of his novels I actually read in the 90s left me a bit underwhelmed, and I haven't really gone out of my way to seek them out.
However, I've always heard this early collection of stories highly praised. And last October, when I was looking for something blatantly seasonal to read on the subway while in costume on my way to a Halloween party, I came across this, in a marvelous demon-eye-hand mass market edition, and it seemed just about right. This year, I've finished the last few stories, and I'm pleasantly surprised with the whole collection. There's a powerful sense of mundanity here. King's characters are working-class guys just trying to get through another mill shift under an uncaring boss or to fend off the anxiety of facing a high school class. They are economically yet crisply characterized, and he doesn't waste a lot of words getting them into nightmarish scenarios. When he attempts to be especially weird or surprising, something in the imagination falls a little flat, and many stories turn out to be about what you expect (and fear). But some work precisely because they unashamedly, unrestrainedly pursue their premises to the end (The Children of the Corn!). And sometimes the most believably ordinary ones end up having the most power (The Bogeyman, chilling as a veiled story of domestic violence). There's a Lovecraft homage, a demonic laundry wringer, killer cars, and believable familial despairs. None of them really overstay their welcome. There's probably a reason so many of these became the source material for entire films. Maybe I'm due to go exploring for cursed ruins in the woods near the Royal River again.
However, I've always heard this early collection of stories highly praised. And last October, when I was looking for something blatantly seasonal to read on the subway while in costume on my way to a Halloween party, I came across this, in a marvelous demon-eye-hand mass market edition, and it seemed just about right. This year, I've finished the last few stories, and I'm pleasantly surprised with the whole collection. There's a powerful sense of mundanity here. King's characters are working-class guys just trying to get through another mill shift under an uncaring boss or to fend off the anxiety of facing a high school class. They are economically yet crisply characterized, and he doesn't waste a lot of words getting them into nightmarish scenarios. When he attempts to be especially weird or surprising, something in the imagination falls a little flat, and many stories turn out to be about what you expect (and fear). But some work precisely because they unashamedly, unrestrainedly pursue their premises to the end (The Children of the Corn!). And sometimes the most believably ordinary ones end up having the most power (The Bogeyman, chilling as a veiled story of domestic violence). There's a Lovecraft homage, a demonic laundry wringer, killer cars, and believable familial despairs. None of them really overstay their welcome. There's probably a reason so many of these became the source material for entire films. Maybe I'm due to go exploring for cursed ruins in the woods near the Royal River again.