Re-Reading King: ‘The Shining’

The Shining by Stephen King

Doubleday | January 28, 1977

'The Shining' (Doubleday Hardcover, 1977) (First Edition)

‘The Shining’
(Doubleday Hardcover, 1977)
(First Edition)

I bought my first copy of The Shining at a sidewalk sale my favorite (then and now) used bookstore was having. It was the paperback edition with the metallic silver cover that has the faceless head of a child front and center. The top right corner of the cover had been clipped off, and the bookstore’s name – Trade ‘n Books – was stamped on the side opposite the spine. I was in the early stages of discovering King, those heady days when I had lots of books of his to catch up on, and this was one of a batch of paperbacks I bought that day – I think it also included Different Seasons and maybe Firestarter – for something like fifty cents apiece.

Did I read it before seeing the movie? I honestly don’t remember. Those days are a blur of discovery now, some 30 years later, and the order of things has been irrevocably shuffled about. But I know I blazed through it at the same rate I blazed through King’s other works, and that while it left certain indelible images behind (the hornets in Danny’s room, the thing that Jack became smashing its face in with the roque mallet), I didn’t feel the full force of its impact until the readings that came much later.

Reading it again over the past couple of weeks, I’m struck at just how much tension King was able to work in from page one. Jack is a man very much on edge, and he’s already teetering when we meet him. At first, he seemed to me like the kind of guy that I should feel bad for, except that I couldn’t get over how many of his unlucky breaks have come because of his own terrible decision making. But King’s gentle touch with characters rescues Jack, forcing you to see that, although this is the kind of guy who could very easily be the author of his own undoing, he’s really fighting hard against those destructive impulses.

'The Shining' (Signet Paperback, 1978) (Reading Copy)

‘The Shining’
(Signet Paperback, 1978)
(Reading Copy)

I firmly believe that if Jack Torrance had gone to work as the winter caretaker for any other isolated hotel, he would have been fine. He would have completed (as much as anyone can) his recovery from alcoholism; he would have repaired and rebuilt his relationship with his wife and son; he would have finished his play; he would have emerged from the Colorado wilderness refreshed, re-energized, creatively motivated and newly confidant. He was so close.

But he went to work at The Overlook. And The Overlook, as the host to something twisted and insidious, went to work on Jack, digging its fingers into the healing cracks of his psyche, widening the schisms he was working so hard to repair. The Overlook won because it picked on a man that was weak, even though he was trying to be strong; The Overlook won because, in Jack’s son, it found a psychic amplifier that boosted its considerable powers to the point where hope was forever lost to Jack.

That, to me, is the saddest part of re-reading The Shining. Every time I go back I find myself identifying with Jack, rooting for Jack, more and more. But now, unlike that first reading all those years ago, I understand that Jack Torrance never stood a chance.

There’s a reason this one stands tall on so many “My Favorite King” lists. The strength of the characterization, combined with the genuine scares King evokes, has not faded with time. Thought-provoking, sad, tense and scary, The Shining would be a crowning achievement for many writers; as it stands, it’s but one of many such accomplishments for King.

Re-Reading King: The Index

Review: ‘Sing Me Your Scars’ by Damien Angelica Walters

ScarsSing Me Your Scars by Damien Angelica Walters
Apex Publications (March 9, 2015)

Sing Me Your Scars is a gripping collection of short stories that provides a number of deeply-felt chills without relying on the crutches of common horror clichés and tropes.

In this mix of new and previously published fiction, Damien Angelica Walters focuses less on the boogeymen in the shadows and more on inner demons like doubt, insecurity, and dependance. Don’t get me wrong – this is no mundane collection of inner monologues; we’ve got a snake-headed woman you might recognize from Mythology 101, and a robot model of Henry VIII that lives with a stripper, and women who can sing buildings into existence, and many more such wondrous creations. But every single story,
now matter how outlandish the window dressing may seem, is grounded in the
very real foibles and frailties of human existence.

There are a number of standouts in Sing Me Your Scars. Among them is the title story, a fresh take on the Frankenstein story in which each “contributor” maintains a voice in the increasingly crowded headspace of Victoria, the mad doctor’s tragic creation. “Melancholia” is another strong entry; in it, a woman watches her mother slowly unravel due to Alzheimer’s, tragically unable to see the very real magic her mother is leaving behind. “Scarred” sees a woman with those fabled voices in her head, urging her to cause pain to people around here; when she cuts herself, her hate is manifested as a dangerous, physical thing, but she only uses it on those who deserve…at least, those who the voices say deserve it.

Walters is not afraid to play around with established storytelling techniques, but throughout her experimentation she never loses control of the story itself. There’s nothing here that can be reduced to pure gimmickry – when she does try something out of the ordinary, it’s with a very real and specific purpose.

Sing Me Your Scars is the third entry in Apex’s “Voices” series, their attempt to spotlight new and exciting storytellers. As with the previous entries (Douglas F. Warrick and Maurice Broaddus), Apex proves they have a great eye (and ear) for talent. Walters is a writer that seems prepared to be around for the long haul, and horror fiction as a whole is likely to benefit greatly from her talents.

Review: ‘Where All Light Tends to Go’ by David Joy

LightWhere All Light Tends to Go by David Joy
G.P. Putnam’s Sons (March 3, 2015)

It’s hard to discuss the impact of a book like this and remain spoiler-free when so much of what separates it from the pack is that last gut punch David Joy throws at the end. It’s something we should see coming, and it’s definitely something the book’s main character, Jacob McNeely, should have anticipated. But by the time the endgame plays out, Joy has us all – readers and character alike – so enraptured by the first real bit of hope we’ve seen since the story began that we’re blinded to the sad reality he’s been preparing us for all along.

Let me backtrack a bit. Jacob McNeely is the 18-year-old son of a drug-dealing father and a drug-addicted mother. As you might expect, his home life is a bit lacking, and nobody bats an eye when he drops out of school in the tenth grade. Jacob knows that everyone around him has a preconceived notion of what his future holds, and he’s resigned himself to a life of fulfilling those low expectations.

The lone bright spot in his life is long-time friend/girlfriend Maggie Jennings. She sees things in Jacob that he can’t bring himself to believe are really there, so when he cuts ties with school he cuts ties with her as well, reasoning that he’d rather be alone than drag her down with him.

Joy does an excellent job at capturing the frustration and hopelessness any young man would feel when faced with the idea that such a stark, lonely future has been laid out for him. There are times when Jacob tries to embrace the life he feels destined for, and he’s such a broken young man that he often squanders opportunities for escape; not because he doesn’t want them, but because he doesn’t feel he deserves him.

When Jacob talks about the precious few bonding moments he’s shared with his dad, those moments that don’t involve his dad trying to integrate him into the family business, it’s shattering because you can see how those small sips of “normal life” come back to haunt him time and time again. When it comes to his mother, Jacob mostly seems to hold her at arm’s length, disgusted at the way she’s let her addiction grind her down; and when Joy does allow them one small moment of real togetherness, it’s a glimpse at what could have – should have – been the reality between them that makes the truth of what they are all the more devastating.

Caught in what he feels is a hopeless situation, Jacob continues to allow his father to manipulate him deeper and deeper into into the muck, until he’s finally pushed far enough that he begins to push back. An unexpected helping hand appears, and Jacob, caught at just the right moment, grabs for it. Eagerly. Too eagerly, and that’s when Joy takes his last swing, and I’ll admit I kind of hated him for it, even as I told myself I should have seen it coming.

There’s very little light in Where All Light Tends to Go, and what little there is doesn’t do much to brighten the mood. Joy’s novel is grim, and bleak, and powerful, and wonderfully written, and it will wreck your day. It’s a strong debut, and well worth your time.

Review: ‘The Glittering World’ by Robert Levy

The Glittering World by Robert Levy
glittering-world-9781476774527_lgGallery Books (February 10, 2015)

You’re going to see a lot of comparisons made between this, playwright Robert Levy‘s debut novel, and the work of Neil Gaiman, and I think those comparisons are appropriate. Like Gaiman, Levy is charting his own unique path through the darkened, shadowy corners of the fantasy genre, leading a journey that even those who normally avoid the “F” word will be glad they joined.

In The Glittering World, Levy has written a fantasy novel that is rooted in the reality of human emotion and longing; a fantasy that eschews orcs and trolls and faraway places with unprounounceable names for a hidden Canadian cove and a cast of humans reeling from the their own frailties. To this idyllic place comes Blue, a man looking to make some kind of peace with his past. Along with Blue are his friend (and sometimes more), Gabe; the former (maybe former) love of his life, Elisa; and Elisa’s husband Jason.

Rural Cape Breton was once the home of an artists’ commune, and it’s the place where Blue was born. His mother took him away at a young age, and Blue has never been sure why. As he returns to finalize the sale of his grandmother’s home – his last concrete tie to the area – he hopes to put together the pieces of a past that’s always been a mystery to him. His arrival triggers an escalating chain of events, and when Blue disappears – and Elisa along with him – his friends are forced to confront that idea that the man they’ve come to love and support may not be the man they thought he was.

Levy confidently and patiently builds his world with rich, textured storytelling and prose that leans to the lush side at times, but never becomes self-indulgent. The book is divided into four sections, each dedicated to a member of the main cast, and Levy uses these sections to flesh out these characters while keeping the story moving forward. He smartly eases us into the supernatural elements, teaching us what we need to know about the
“Other Kind” and their intoxicating influence on humans, when we need to know it. The finale is a satisfying one, and while it leaves a door or two open for more exploration, it’s refreshing to read a book that isn’t a blatant setup for a trilogy.

The Glittering World is a direct – sometimes brutally so – examination of the lengths some will go to in order to maintain a sense of belonging. It’s also a compelling look at identity, and what “who we are” means to each of us. All of this is wrapped up in a beautifully written fantasy thriller that bleeds pure imagination. It’s a wonderful debut, and it marks Robert Levy as a talent to watch.

Review: ‘Jacaranda’ by Cherie Priest

Jacaranda_by_Cherie_Priest2Jacaranda by Cherie Priest
Subterranean Press (January 31, 2015)

Jacaranda is the latest installment in Cherie Priest’s “Clockwork Century” series, an alternate-history steampunk saga that encompasses several additional novels and stories. If you’re unfamiliar with that series, as I was going into this novella, worry not – the connection is tenuous at best. Jacaranda stands firmly on its own as an excellent “weird western” horror tale.

The Jacaranda is an isolated hotel on the tiny island of Galveston, Texas. Like many hotels, it has a somewhat checkered past. In its place there once stood a tree, a blue jacaranda, that was a destination for many heartbroken people. When the hotel went up the tree came down, but people in pain still flocked to the place. Did they come on their own, or were they called their by a greater force? That’s one of the many questions Priest sets before the reader.

The latest person called to the hotel is Juan Miguel Quintero Rios, a padre who is brought in by a nun named Eileen Callahan. Callahan tells the padre about a series of mysterious deaths that have occurred at the hotel, and about her fears that something ancient and powerful are behind them. Rios senses it as well, but with a hurricane bearing down on the hotel and its handful of residents, there’s not much time to get at the root of the problem.

The Jacaranda’s residents are mostly standard horror cannon fodder, a group of disparate people haunted by secrets from their past, but Priest builds the story around three compelling leads – the nun, the priest and a late-arriving Texas Ranger named Horatio Korman. These three are thrust into the path of something that at first seems like a standard-issue haunting; however, as Priest propels the story forward, they soon learn that they are in the crosshairs of something far more powerful than a few run-of-the-mill spirits. Instead, they’ve stumbled upon something ancient, an entity that has grown restless and ambitious. It’s ready to break out of the hotel to spread its influence far and wide, and these three strangers are the last barrier in its way.

There’s not an overwhelming sense of urgency to the story, even as the storm draws near. What you get instead is a steady, insistent pulse-beat of dread. Priest does a good job of keeping the tension tight and the outcome in doubt, right up to the very end.

Again, don’t let the words “steampunk” or “series” keep you from giving this one a chance. Knowledge of the genre or Priest’s “Clockwork Century” is not required; all you need is the love of a good story, because that is exactly what Priest delivers.

Review: ‘Tortured Souls: The Legend of Primordium’ by Clive Barker

Tortured_Souls_by_Clive_Barker_LargeTortured Souls: The Legend of Primordium by Clive Barker
Subterranean Press (February 2015)

Back in 2001, McFarland Toys teamed up with Clive Barker to hatch “Tortured Souls,” a line of six action figures – monsters, naturally – designed by Barker. Barker’s incredible talents as a visual artist, paired with McFarland’s then-unmatched ability to execute figures of incredible detail, were a perfect combination, but that didn’t stop them from upping the ante by having Barker write a “novelette” that would, um, flesh out the characters while weaving them together in one epic story.

With such an unusual publication history (each figure was packaged with a chapter of the story) it’s likely that a lot of Barker’s fans have not had the opportunity to read the story. Enter Subterranean Press, which has struck up a successful working relationship with the author as of late, and their new edition of Tortured Souls.

The story itself is classic Barker. It involves an ancient, corrupt city known as Primordium; a demonic creature of mysterious origin, the “transformer of human flesh” known as Agonistes; Lucidique, the daughter of a corrupt politician; and Kreiger, the assassin she recruits to help destroy Primordium’s crooked dynasty. These elements (and many more) come together in a short, tightly-woven tale of greed, supernatural forces and violence.

The brevity of the work (not quite 90 pages) is a strength of Tortured Souls. There’s still plenty of room for Barker’s prose to breathe, but things move forward in a relentless and satisfying fashion. Would I like to have more? Absolutely, yes; that being said, the story does not feel rushed or incomplete in any way. While I closed the book knowing that this particular tale of Primordium had been fully told, it seems like there are plenty more stories in that doomed city’s streets, and I hope Barker returns to this world some day.

Agonistes, in particular, is a creature I’d like to read more about. Yes, there are unmistakable similarities to Barker’s more famous Cenobites; Agonistes, like Pinhead and his crew, offers pain of the most intimate kind, and it’s typically pain that the victim has sought out themselves. Is there some relationship between the Cenobites and Agonistes? Maybe that’s just fanboy speculation, but I’d bet I’m not the only wondering.

Tortured Souls is vivid work, and makes a great warm-up for the upcoming Scarlet Gospels. If you missed out on it the story when you could only find it at the toy store, do yourself a favor and snag it now.

Review: ‘The Lost Level’ by Brian Keene

The Lost Level by Brian Keene
Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000037_00020]Apex Publications (January 19, 2015)

Brian Keene, writer of many interconnected novels, creator of vast mythologies, seems to have found the series he was born to write.

The Lost Level, the first in what I hope will be many tales of inter-dimensional castaway Aaron Pace (and, apparently, I’m going to get my wish), is a love letter to pulp adventurists like Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard. Pace is a dabbler in magic and the occult, and his studies lead him to a method to open doors to other dimensions. As his confidence increases, his exploration of these other dimensions becomes more frequent, until one day he steps through a door that vanishes behind him. Stranded in a strange land with no way to get home, Pace has no choice but to journey onward, trying to learn about this new place, and to discover his own place in it.

When we first meet Pace he’s already been in the “Lost Level” – a place he’d heard whispers of before finding it firsthand – for some time. He’s writing his adventures down, and the tale he tells here is of his first frightening days roaming the land. There’s a lot to tell: his first encounters with bands of dangerous humanoid lizards; his partnering up with the beautiful Kasheena and the fierce, intelligent Bloop; and crossing paths with deadly vegetation, slugs, robots, dinosaurs and more.

If it sounds like Pace’s new home is a crazy-quilt mashup of comic book creatures and pulp novel landscapes, well, that’s because it is. This “Lost Level,” as Pace comes to understand it, is a place where things from all the other dimensions wash up like so much garbage on a beach. For its inhabitants, its a hostile and inescapable trap. For Keene, however, The Lost Level is a rich playground in which childlike fantasies can be brought to life with the skill and precision of a talented artist.

Keene is one of the hardest working writers in the business, and he often comes across in blog posts and in social media as a guy carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. That’s why it’s so great to behold the sense of pure wonder and playfulness and just plain fun that flows through this book. It’s like peeking in a kid’s bedroom while he sits on the floor weaving elaborate stories that involve every toy in his toybox. You know he’s having a damn good time, and you’re right there enjoying it with him.

As a bonus, The Lost Level ties heavily into Keene’s over-arching mythos, The Labyrinth; as such, long-time readers of his work are going to be delighted at the amount of stuff from his other stories that bleeds over into this book. It’s done in such a way that casual readers won’t be lost, so if you haven’t read the Clickers series or Dead Sea or any of his other stuff, worry not. If you’ve read those books, and more, well – there’s plenty for you to look forward to.

The Lost Level perfectly straddles that fine line that separates an “anything goes” mentality from sheer overindulgence. It’s a book chock full of pulp references and great set pieces, but it never strays too far from the characters at its heart. This is far and away my favorite thing that Keene has written thus far, and I can’t wait to see where he takes the story from here.