Oh yeah, in case I haven't mentioned it, I had to give up on Pynchon for the time being, because my brain broke. Somebody here's got a case of the Februaries. So now I'm reading It by Stephen King and it's Valentine's Day so even though it's so not cool for indie hipster litbloggers to read popular writers you still have to tell me you love me and wear that cute thing you wear for me and give me chocolate. Oh wait, you mean it's the 15th now? Shit-hell. Well, can we at least go halvsies on the chocolate? Or beer. Whatever.
It's not the first time I've read King this year. I started the year with Lisey's Story because it had been a while since I'd read King--since the Dark Tower series concluded, to be exact--and I was kind of curious to see what he's been up to. What he's been up to is something that is okay and all but not at all what I was looking for. Smucking. Smucking. Smucking. Smucking. Smucking. Smucking. Smucking. Smucking. Smucking. What I think I was looking for is what I'm finding in It. Something I can just sort of wallow away inside while the air's cold and the sun's gone. (What, me, ready for summer? Naw.)
Really about the worst thing I can say about King right now is that he's often a bit heavy-handed. Reading It and Lisey's Story does throw into stark relief the tendency I've had to trend over the last ten years to read more for style than story, which may sound good or bad but is neither. If anything I reckon it's unbalanced, which is fine, because I don't know what I'm doing yet. And that's what's good, the not knowing what I'm doing yet. Or so I keep telling myself as I face up to the fact that unless there's a drastic change of fortune in the next week, I'm never going to be a hotshot 20-something author of the moment. Damn. Damn? I guess.
3 comments:
"Heavy-handed," yeah. I haven't read much King at all but started with Lisey's Story when it came out (smucking loathed it) and have just finished Duma Key and after only these two my reaction was, "Subtlety's not his thing, is it?" I feel like I've been bludgeoned with the story when I've finished. I realize, though, that these last two books of his are not typical for him so perhaps one day I will read one of his "classics."
I'm reading "Against the Day," and the thing with Pynchon (at least for me) is that he works better in small doses. I dip into the book now and then, only reading a couple of pages at a time.
"Lisey's Story"? I hated it, especially when "bad gunky" came up. King can tell a good story and make it look effortless (like "The Green Mile"), but "Lisey's Story" just draws attention to itself, like he's saying, "Look! I can be literary!" He was my favorite author growing up--thanks to him, I love reading--but this was the book where I finally admitted that I've outgrown him.
Happy Birthday, Darby!
Candace
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