King's Highway pt. 23.5: Cell (Revisited)

"Can you hear me now?" 

- Verizon Guy

"'I'll a-babbalah your a-kazzalah, you fuck!'"

- Clay Riddell

Here are some supplemental remarks to my original King's Highway entry for Cell, written four years ago and towards the beginning of my blogging career. (Well, "career.") I hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet, as that post attests to, so it seemed a good candidate for this here King's Highway Bridges and Infrastructure Renewal Summer Project.

Here's what I wrote for my brief description of Cell from my recently-revamped King's Rankings:  

"If you are at all literate in what King does, you must recognize that this one is the Matisse painting of King's catalog - everything's bold colors and stripped down to its essential lines. Plus, as we go further and further into the internet age, the idea of society descending into weaponized chaos - equalized at last in pure hivemind-y hatred of "the other" - as triggered by some ghost in the machine seems less and less sci-fi and more just like everyday life in 2016."

And after an additional re-read, I stand by both points. Particularly that last one. Couple of bullet-points along those lines:

- Early on, when the first pulse is sent out over everyone's phones, a girl Clay calls "Pixie Dark" receives only a half-dose. As a result, she staggers around, screaming "WHO AM I?" before self-inflicting serious harm to her own face. I hesitate to deconstruct this further as it just seems as perfect a metaphor all on its own. Pixie Dark is half of the online community, on any trending topic, on any given day. It also made me think of the practice of "tagging." Without the external validation of one's identity by others, Pixie Dark loses her sense of self.

- The gibberish of the phoners reminded me of the "I CAN HAZ CHEEZEBURGER"-speak. Remember when everyone went out of their minds a few years back with adorkably-misspelled gibberish on funny cat photos? Is there any real difference? 

- Says The Head at one point: "By using cell phones, which have become the dominant form of communication in our daily lives, you simultaneously turn the populace into your own conscript army - an army that's literally afraid of nothing because it's insane - and you break down the infrastructure." The online mob and the media-academe that feeds it have broken down the infrastructure of network programming, elections, and journalism. 

There's even more, but I don't want to get carried away. I think it's remarkable that the behavior of the phoners and some of the situations that develop in Cell have parallels to everyday online behavior in 2016, and I think it's even worth exploring on a deeper level. But I lack either the sociological or psychological know-how to be the Neil Armstrong of the bunch. I hope someone smarter than myself delves into it. That said, I don't think King sat down to "predict the future" or anything - let's call that a happy (or rather a decidedly unhappy) accident.

"That country (the old U.S.A.) was now out of service, off the hook, so sorry, please try your call again later."

The breakdown of society that follows the first pulse is seemingly as all-pervasive as Captain Trips in The Stand. And similar to that work, the survivors begin to receive visions in dreams as to where they should go: Kashwakamak, as it turns out, a fictional resort town in Maine's lake country first seen in Gerald's Game. 

There the Stand parallels break down. Clay and his newfound companions (first Tom McCourt and teenager Alice Maxwell; then Jordan, the surviving pupil of the Gaiten Academy, a prep school where they perpetrate their first act of vengeance against the phoners; and finally Denise, Ray, and Dan, fellow "flock-killers") are ostracized by both the phoners (led by "Raggedy Man," aka the President of Harvard) and the non-phoner survivors, whom the phoners telepathically turn against them. (When a pair of redneck survivors don't get the message, they are dealt with brutally as a warning to all.) 

Clay is motivated by trying to find his son on the off-chance that he can save him. Things come to a head up in Kashwakamak, and everyone parts ways. Does Clay find his son? Is his son beyond saving? What happens to the world? In the words of a popular Time-Life commercial from yesteryear, read the book. 

As always with King, there are several sentences that struck my fancy. Such as "Clay Riddell believed he might be witnessing the first reluctant scurry he had ever seen in his life," in reference to the hotel clerk who reluctantly assists them in the immediate aftermath of the pulse. Or "survival is like love; both are blind."

The only thing working against the novel - and "against" is relative, of course; I actually think they're rather endearing qualities - is its dated-ness. Something tied so specifically to a technology breakthrough that's already undergone so much evolution always runs that risk, of course. (Not for the first time in King's bibliography. Witness the great lengths The Running Man - a novel set in the future - goes to with analog recording equipment.) But I had to chuckle at a couple of Clay's observations:

- While watching someone talk on the phone while at the counter of the ice cream van, he thinks: "He was watching an act which would once have been considered almost insufferably rude - yes, even while engaging in a small bit of commerce with a total stranger - becoming a part of accepted everyday behavior." I can relate to this 100%. I made the same observation to all my cellphone-using friends in the first few years they appeared. I recall vividly the first time someone interrupted our conversation to answer their cell and how rude I thought it was. 

But: I think this vestige of manners from a bygone era might puzzle modern readers. The practice has become too ubiquitous. 

- Also, the idea of Clay being a "cellphone hold-out" is more and more anachronistic with each passing year. I'm still a smart-phone / tablet holdout (more out of habit at this point vs. any sensible objection) and would totally be a cellphone hold-out if such a thing were possible. But I'm feeling the squeeze. Verizon keeps discontinuing their non-smart-phone choices for mobile phones, and even the land-lines you can get now are part of cable bundles, etc. 

Does it matter for the year in which the story is set? Not at all. It's a nice snapshot of the early years of the 21st century. Speaking of: 

- Clay refers to 2004 as "the year the Red Sox won the World Series." Not so fast! Which World Series? The window of time where said year would be nailed down as 2004 was brief, as unfathomable as that sentence would seem to any pre-2004 Red Sox fan.

- Also, Clay remembered thinking "too good to be true" about recordable CDs. Me, too! But hell, a future edition of Cell will probably have to include a footnote explaining what the hell a CD even is.

"Three days ago we not only ruled the earth, we had survivor's guilt about all the other species we'd wiped out on our climb to the nirvana of round-the-clock cable news and microwave popcorn. Now we're the Flashlight People."

Finally, Charles Ardai (the headmaster of Gaiten Academy and a name-check of the founder and editor of Hard Case Crime) has this Glen-Bateman-esque summation of events re: the phoners:

"If all conscious thought, all memory, all ratiocinative ability, were to be stripped from a human mind in a moment, what would remain would be pure and terrible. (...) Although neither the Freudians nor the Jungians come right out and say it, they strongly suggest that we may have a core, a single basic carrier wave, or a single line of written code which cannot be stripped. (...) At bottom you see we are not homo sapiens at all. Our core is madness. The prime directive is murder. What Darwin was too polite to say, my friends, is that we came to rule this planet not because we were the smartest, or even the meanest, but because we have always been the craziest, most murderous motherfuckers in the jungle. And that is what the Pulse exposed five days ago."

Not sure if The Head's use of "motherfucker" is entirely in keeping with his other dialogue, but otherwise I tend to agree. I don't even consider it pessimistic. Like Freud, I find it a fundamentally optimistic pursuit in mapping out the ways in which the human default is irrational and violent, as it presupposes we can figure it out and change it.

Save to System. 

Underrated book and a gem of late-innings King.

~ 

King's Highway pt. 23: Can You Hear Me Now?

Not too much to say about this one - it's very straightforward:

There's a nice review here, with no real spoilers, and I will observe the same with this post. You should read it, if you haven't. Perfect way to pass some time in an airport, lounge-chair, train, etc. I don't mean to damn by faint praise; it's a damn-near perfect example of a story finely-tuned to those experiences (during which, for me anyway, reading a book is the only thing I want to do.) It's not too long, starts off with a bang, and takes some wild twists and turns.

I like the paperback cover a bit better than the hardcover. The "911" and tagline are fun commentaries on the events within, as is one of the three inscriptions before the story begins: Can You Hear Me Now?

It reminded me a lot of "The Mist."In both stories, a crisis-event happens and is not explained (ominous references to "The Arrowhead Project" in "The Mist," notwithstanding); survivors band together and hi-jinks ensue (among them, a religious-crazy-survivor who descends on the protagonists); the main character is preoccupied with the unknown fate of his loved ones back home; fact-finding missions are made into the lion's den; and both end ambiguously.

Of course, there are plenty of differences, too. In "The Mist," the m.c. has his kid with him, in Cell we get a glimpse of what the monsters/crazies are doing, and many more.

Frank Darabont added an ending to his film version of "The Mist," and I imagine a film version of Cell would do the same. (Why this hasn't been made, sequeled, and rebooted is beyond me.) I can sympathize with allegations of "cop-out" for the ending, but I for one was more disappointed with how the phone-crazy convention in Kashwakamak wrapped up. That was it? Not that I was exactly "disappointed," more surprised.

A view from the actual Kashwakamak, in Canada, that is.

Pretty good boogeyman in the character of The Raggedy Man aka The President of Harvard

Neither here nor there, but I liked the references to Dark Horse Comics, as well. I'll probably remove Dark Horse Presents from my pull-list in the months to come, but it's been something I've looked forward to for the past fourteen months.

Survival is like love; both are blind.

I couldn't help but think of the TV show Dollhouse, which also depicts an apocalypse triggered by a remote activation, a sudden and ubiquitous paving-over of the neural topography. Opinions are divided on the show...

Full disclosure - I love it.

but the central conceit of Cell (i.e. a pulse was generated over mobile networks and whomever answered the call went wack-a-doo) is pretty much said verbatim by Topher in "Epitaph One." I found a You-Tube clip of the particular dialogue, but it's a whole lot and not the isolated five-second clip that I was looking for. (Here it is, at 1:02, should you want a look)

I don't mean to suggest Dollhouse is derivative of Cell. Only that certain ideas suggest certain tributaries, independent of who observes them.

I found your friend...

I couldn't help but like the idea of old-timers who never quite embraced the change in societal customs and manners that the intrusion of cellphones demanded. I'll never forget the first few times someone answered a call in the middle of conversation and how exasperated I felt. And I still crease my eyebrows when a cashier (or even a cabbie) divides his or her attention between me and the phone, or I overhear the most personal/ ridiculous conversation on the train or bus.

Par for the course, now.

Considering the amount of dropped calls and the inability of Dawn and I to have a phone conversation when she's in her apartment, I remain as unconvinced of the superiority of the cellphone age to the one I grew up on as the author.

I get the same thing when I read F. Scott Fitzgerald and he speaks of how the world he grew up in would be/ is constantly offended by the world he died in. It's not unique to him, by any rate; it's an authorly observation passed down in every generation. But viewed through this perspective, this novel is a bit more of a gut-punch of a "get off my lawn" than others.

Great stuff - on the King recommendation/ readability scale, it's a Gjallarhorn.

I leave you with this, which I feel relates to all of the above, from Neil Gaiman's excellent interview with SK:

"I start to tell King my theory, that when people in the far future want to get an idea of how things felt between 1973 and today, they'll look to King. He's a master of reflecting the world that he sees, and recording it on the page. The rise and fall of the VCR, the arrival of Google and smartphones. It's all in there, behind the monsters and the night, making them more real."

His answer: "King is sanguine. “You know what you can’t tell what is going to last, what’s not going to last. There’s Kurt Vonnegut quote about John D. McDonald saying “200 years from now, when people want to know what the 20th century they ll go to John D. McDonald”, but I’m not sure that’s true – it seems like he’s almost been forgotten.  But I try and reread a John D. McDonald novel whenever I come down here."