Stephen King is one of my favorite authors, and It is one of my favorite books by him. So I had to share this absolutely terrifying poster that artist Patrick Connan created as a tribute. Click on it for more Stephen King-inspired art.
A writer’s notebook is the best way in the world to immortalize bad ideas. My idea about a good idea is one that sticks around and sticks around and sticks around. — Stephen King
Stephen King doesn’t think writers should keep notebooks. I find that when something is niggling at my brain, and I write it down in a notebook, I immediately forget all about it and sleep soundly. Maybe this is why I am not a best-selling mega-writer like Mr. King?
This is such a moving essay: Stephen King: An Unlikely Lifeline In Turbulent Waters | Tor.com. Even if you are predisposed not to like Stephen King, he is undeniably an author who tells the truth. And an author who tells the truth is an author who can make a difference, especially in the lives of young readers.
I also discovered Stephen King when I was a pre-teen reader, and I have always strongly connected with his books. It’s not the horror and gore that draw me, but the characters, who always seem like very real people, and how they react when the uncontrollable and unfathomable occur in their lives. King shows his readers the horrors of the world and the horrors that live deep in the souls of our fellow humans, but he also shows us what humanity can strive to be.
Currently reading Doctor Sleep.
Stephen King shares his thoughts on why opening lines are so important and why he spends so much time crafting them in Why Stephen King Spends ‘Months and Even Years’ Writing Opening Sentences – Atlantic Mobile. As a reader, an opening line is a greeting from the author. Do I feel welcomed? Do I want to venture in further? Or do I want to run away?
I’m sure we all have our favorite first lines. One of mine comes from King: “The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.” It’s a simple line, but it immediately sets the scene as well as the tone of the book, and it introduces instant tension. The Atlantic asked several authors what their favorite first lines were after running the piece with Stephen King. All interesting choices. In fact, sometimes it’s more fun to read the first line and imagine the book, rather than reading the book itself.
You are probably already familiar with the Bulwer-Lytton contest that challenges writers to come up with the worst first lines. It’s named after Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, the writer who came up with the opening line, “It was a dark and stormy night,” later made famous by an authorial Snoopy. Every year, I get a chuckle out of reading the contest winners.
I leave you with some more favorite first lines. Don’t they make you want to read these books?
“When Augustus came out on the porch the blue pigs were eating a rattlesnake—not a very big one.” – Lonesome Dove
“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” – Nineteen Eighty-Four
“If you had told me we’d end up in a world with kids with green hair and bones in their noses I would have laughed in your face. But here it is.”–No Country for Old Men
“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more.” – The Haunting of Hill House
My thoughts on Lord of the Flies. Also, I am coveting the edition issued to mark the centenary of William Golding’s birth, with an introduction by Stephen King, whose own writing was greatly influenced by it.
This essay started life as a collection of notes I made on every Stephen King book a few years back, when I was rereading them all. Then it morphed into an answer to a question on Quora. Which I then reposted on my books blog. Read: Common Themes in the Works of Stephen King on Books Worth Reading.
Please understand that if you read further, you will be totally and irrevocably spoiled for the endings of both The Dark Tower series by Stephen King and the Lost television series. The choice is yours.
Stephen King’s Dark Tower series and Lost have a lot in common, and it’s no secret that the Lost writers were greatly influenced by King. Both stories are sprawling, epic, complex, sometimes head-scratching, and play with similar themes and ideas. Both seem largely made up as the writers went along. Both require you to suspend your disbelief a lot and accept some truly crazy things that happen. Both have very similar elements in their endings.
Here’s why I think The Dark Tower largely succeeds and Lost largely fails. The short version: It comes down to the basics of story-telling.
What is The Dark Tower about, in one sentence? It is about Roland‘s quest to reach the Dark Tower. This very simple, very clear motivation drives all action that follows, and we know it from the outset. We may not understand yet exactly what the Dark Tower is or why Roland needs to reach it — that comes later — but we do understand that this goal is more important to Roland than anything else.
Aside from Roland’s motivation, King introduces us to three key concepts that are fundamental to the story at the very beginning of the series. If as a reader, you don’t buy any of this, you’ll probably stop reading by the second or third book.
The first is the idea that multiple, parallel universes are real and the characters can travel between them. The mechanics of how this occurs isn’t really important; what is important is that it is literally possible. We know that Roland’s world, a post-post-apocalypse world that has “moved on,” shares some common characteristics with ours. In the first three books, characters travel between our world and Roland’s, and in the fourth book, the characters pass through another related world, but with some telling differences, which is where the events of The Stand took place.
A second key theme is that of the role fate — which Roland calls ka – plays in the characters’ lives. Roland forms a group of people, his ka-tet, who are interlinked by destiny to help Roland in his quest. We learn early on that the members of Roland’s previous ka-tet did not come to good ends, and as the story progresses, we find out that Roland also lost his first love and his parents in horrific ways. This helps us realize that the other characters probably won’t make it to the end. Roland himself acknowledges that he would sacrifice them for the Tower, and even the others seem to understand this. This in no way diminishes the emotional power of their deaths when they do come — Eddie’s death left me in tears, and Oy‘s slayed me — but we are nevertheless prepared for them as a function of fate.
Even though all of the members of Roland’s ka-tet do die, we see them together in another world. As readers, we are able to accept this as literally happening because the idea of the multiple universes is long established. These aren’t the exact same people but other versions of them who get to live happier lives together. We are free to layer additional interpretations on top of these — the alternate universe is a kind of afterlife, the characters’ reward for throwing in with Roland and sacrificing themselves — but that is entirely up to the reader. Regardless, this epilogue functions within the rules already laid down and lets us feel a bit of catharsis about these characters’ fates.
Finally, King introduces the idea of cycles right from the beginning. A large part of fate is repeating things until you get them right — the “wheel of ka.” Roland at first sacrifices Jake and then he is given the chance to save him. Susannah is injured twice by the same man, but she can break the cycle once she looks him in the face. When Roland finally reaches the Dark Tower but has to start his quest all over again, it is frustrating and aggravating, but it is also fair. King has set up the idea of cycles and repetition, and we are left with the hope that next time, Roland will get it right and succeed.
So what can be learned from all this? What couldthe Lost writers have done differently to make their resolution more satisfying?
1) Answer the questions you pose. Lost posed a lot of niggling questions and left many unresolved. Granted, a lot of these questions weren’t all that important to the overarching story. For instance, I wasn’t concerned about the Dharma supply drops, because for me, the Dharma story line wrapped up nicely in season 5. But I am still bothered about why women can’t give birth on the island. That seemed so important, and then it was just dropped.
One mistake I think they made was saving up so many unanswered questions till the end. If the questions aren’t overwhelmingly important, it’s okay to give answers as you go along. A good example is: what is the hatch? Asked in season 1 and answered in season 2.
But the larger, more critical questions definitely need answering by the end. And the biggest question of all for me is: what is the island and why is it so important? I had the same question about the Dark Tower. But we learned early on that the Dark Tower is the nexus of all universes, and destroying it means the destruction of all existence. These are very high stakes that I can get invested in. For me, what makes the most sense is that the island is some kind of nexus too, and it exists outside of time and space. This would explain a lot of the anomalies in my mind. But I had to supply this explanation myself, because it wasn’t given in the show, and in fact, a lot of what we saw actually contradicts this interpretation. I don’t mind bringing my own take to the story, but I shouldn’t have to work quite that hard.
2) Play by your own rules. King establishes a metaverse early on, and remains consistent to that idea to achieve what he wants to achieve. On the island, the manipulation of time is clearly critical. But it is never explained conclusively or tied together satisfactorily. Up to the last 15 minutes of the finale, I was expecting the sideways universe to be a true alternative universe that was created when the nuclear bomb exploded. I expected there to be some connection between the island world and the sideways universe; perhaps the characters would move from one to the other to somehow save the island, with the Desmonds as the key. When it turned out to be a death vision or limbo or whatever you want to call it, I felt cheated because this didn’t follow through on key themes that were introduced previously and it brought in an entirely new idea that didn’t connect to anything that had happened before.
3) Give your characters clear, simple motivations and remain consistent to them. Everything Roland does is directly attributable to his goal of reaching the Dark Tower. The motivations of the Lost characters are frequently mutable or incoherent, particularly during the last season. Widmore is the bad guy who wants to take over the island, until suddenly he doesn’t? Ben is a badass, then he’s redeemed (okay), then he’s bad again, then he’s caught under a tree, then he’s not. When I learned that Kate had returned to the island with the goal of finding Claire and reuniting her with Aaron, I breathed a sigh of relief; at least one person had a clear goal that I could get behind.
4) If you get “lost” (ha ha), return to and reinforce the themes you have already introduced. I think the show started losing its way in season 3 and completely gave up on coherence by season 6. Everything with the Temple, Sayid’s “infection” and Widmore made absolutely no sense. The writers would have been better off returning to those big ideas they introduced from the beginning, such as faith versus science, the game being played between dark and light, the theme of being lost and finding purpose or redemption, and Jack’s famous “live together, die alone” line. (Here’s an essay that expounds nicely on this tenet of complex storytelling.)
I would argue that the writers of Lost didn’t hold up their end of the bargain. They didn’t play by the rules that they had established. Maybe they were just messing with our heads, as I have seen posited elsewhere. That’s okay, but there are still rules that must be followed. In The Dark Tower, Stephen King introduces himself as a character and posits that Roland’s story is really only a story that he is writing. It’s a nutty idea, but it works for me, because King still finishes Roland’s story. The metafictional elements are layered on top of the epic adventure we’re already invested in; they don’t negate it. To allude to another book that influenced Lost, the Lost writers shouldn’t invite us to pull back the curtain and look behind it, because instead of a wizard, there’s just a bunch of guys who in the end didn’t really know what they were doing.
Thank you for sticking through this very long essay with me until the end. I appreciate the chance for a little catharsis and would enjoy reading your reactions in the comments.
On my books blog this past week, I posted a little summary of Stephen King’s foray into comics. A second career for one of the most successful writers around? Go check it out, if you like.
I don’t think I have read a James Patterson book since Kiss the Girls (which was a long time ago, but I remember thinking “meh”). Now that he floods front-of-store displays and bestseller lists, I actively avoid them. I don’t like the mass-produced book, designed for broadest appeal and, therefore, lowest common denominator. But even though I don’t read Patterson, this profile of him in last Sunday’s New York Times Magazine is a really interesting look into how he built his bestseller empire and how he churns out all those books.
The article makes the point that Patterson is a huge reason behind his publisher Little Brown‘s success. With less money to spend and more reliance on the known blockbuster, such as what Patterson produces, the big-name publishers will probably continue to expend less time and effort discovering and promoting new writers or “small” books, says the article. Well, then I say it’s a good niche for small and independent publishers to fill. With on-demand publishing and e-books now coming into their own as technologies, production costs should be going down, which should mean that small publishers can hope to turn a reasonable profit even from modestly selling books. Discriminating readers should do all we can to support these efforts.P.S. I found it amusing that Patterson expressed a not-insignificant jealousy of Stephen King in the profile. Perhaps it was because King is a consistent bestseller who has also been recognized by critics for transcending his genre and pushing its boundaries? Just sayin’.
I don’t write about television much, if at all, on this blog. So you probably don’t know that I am obsessed with the television series Lost. Lost, however, is very literary television, which is why it appeals so strongly to me. This is a show that is known for being confusing and misleading, but it certainly helps if you’re broadly read.
The series creators have actuallly compared Lost to a book series, with each season corresponding to one novel. Not a lot of television writers think of themselves as novelists, which is another reason why I think Lost is so great. There are weak and strong seasons, just as any book series would have weak and strong entries. I like to think of Lost as being most like Stephen King‘s Dark Tower series, since both explore the mysteries of time and space. The series creators have said that King’s works have influenced them. Perhaps that’s why the on-island book club was reading Carrie.
Lost is also a literate show. Itfeatures a lot of books in the show itself, which has spawned book clubs in the real world. Many of the characters read frequently on-screen, despite being shot at, blown up and transported through wormholes, and we want to read what they’re reading. I am keeping my own Lost book list, and I’ve read about a third of the books. You’ll discover some really good books about challenging topics like time travel (Slaughterhouse-Five), the nature of reality (The Third Policeman) and paradox (Catch-22), although there are some real stinkers as well (Bad Twin). You can visit the official ABC Lost book club, or check out the Lost books challenge blog. If you want to know more about everything Lost, there is no better source than Lostpedia, which also has a books page.
If you haven’t watched Lost but are intrigued, I recommend you start with Season 1 and work your way through in order. This is not the kind of TV show where you can drop in and out and still expect to know what’s going on. And remember, if one of the seasons isn’t working for you, keep pressing forward, as you may find the next one to be much more enjoyable. Each season truly is like its own novel, with its own themes, story arcs and focal characters, while tying in to the series as a whole.