Different Ways of Reading Stephen King

Just a conversation-starter of a post tonight, some things I've been thinking about lately.

Take a book like my favorite of King's, Duma Key. Here are some different King readers and what they might think of it:

READER ONE: The every-book-must-be-judged-as-if-it's-King's-only-book reader. In many ways I admire this reader. Imagine having the ability to wipe one's mind and memory and enjoy each work as if it was the first? I don't know if this reader truly exists, but such a reader might respond to Duma Key differently than the others will look at. He or she might like it but not necessarily find it to be the best King he or she ever read. Maybe the characters don't grab them, maybe the whole ghost-ship/ ghost-arm business doesn't seem as iconic as something like The Shining or something. * Maybe Wireman's banter is too much, maybe some of the side-plots seem like they could have been cut.

* I realize this reader is hypothetically disallowed from making comparisons just from being in this category, but there's some wiggle room. Let's say someone had the ability to temporarily suspend all previous biases and/or expectation for the length of each book read and then afterwards could compare/ contrast it to others. This is an ideal reader/ ideal juror, but just for the sake of argument. 

READER TWO: The King-must-never-repeat-himself reader. This reader is bound to be disappointed - in King and by life, frequently. I have a feeling this reader would see Duma Key as some kind of retread of previously-explored themes, just in Florida, a painter instead of a writer, a ghost-pirate instead of some creature of the Prim, a lost arm instead of some other injury, etc. 

I sound a little down on these types of readers, but they exist and their viewpoints and tastes are as valid as anyone else's. There's something to be said for experiencing something once and then moving on; to them, perhaps, revisits are too close to leaving money on the table as far as new experiences, new vistas to been, etc. 

READER THREE: The mega King fan. The Constant Reader and then some. In theory, this person loves every and anything King writes. In practice that works out to the popular favorites but few of the weirder ones. Is this judgmental? Or even accurate? I really don't know. For the sake of this post, though, this person exists. To this person, Duma Key could never be King's best; I mean, no one ever freaking talks about it! This person would never trust his or her own taste in soft drinks, much less popular fiction/ favorite authors. 

This reader will magically discover Duma Key is a masterpiece when the right adaptation comes along. Again, I might sound unduly harsh, but I kind of find these readers adorable and in a non-patronizing way. (Okay the soft drink crack was a little harsh; I apologize, Reader(s) Three). There is a great deal of real comfort in loving things in groups, and outliers sometimes threaten that feeling. Consensus is not a bad thing; it can be a positive, calibrating thing.

READER FOUR: The mega-King fan with a twist. This reader doesn't love every King - the guy's only human, for starters, and no one can write as many novels as he has without flubbing at least a couple, and two, no two people are ever going to agree one hundred percent on which books work and which don't - but more often than not finds something to like - and often love - in even the throw-away-iest of King. This person might not howl with delight at every Dark Tower easter egg, but he/ she notices them. Likewise with any of King's go-to motifs or characters, settings, themes, structures, etc. It's enjoyable to this reader to notice that stuff, and to stack them against one another.

This IMO is the reader that probably responds most positively to Duma Key. The bits in the book that have precedent or analogs in others aren't objectionable just for being there, for one; they're opportunities to put like against like in the King head canon. And that's where Duma Key thrives. Everything listed as a "been there, done that" by Reader Two up there would strike Reader Four upon reflection as the best example of each of those.

Okay, one's mileage may vary there. I should stop and regroup. It's not that a King novel is simply the sum of various parts that are interchangeable, novel to novel. It's only that he builds from the toolkit so well described in On Writing. You can compare tool to tool, bit to bit, here and there, in a fashion. They don't each have to be superior in Duma Key, it might just be one section or component works better towards the ultimate doom and redemption of that book. (Awaiting just beyond the big-ass storm that ends so many a King book. And yet! Again, here, the storm is organic to the story. Not so in many of those other places.) And likewise, they don't all have to add up to a tangible sum greater than the sum of any other King novel, if such math was widely agreed on which it isn't.

READER FIVE: The all-the-above-is-overthinking-it-but-I-like-what-I-like reader. This person may or may not like Duma Key, who knows? I think it would depend on what he or she read last or what mood they were in. Which is to say: like all of us. 

Have I made a hash of this? I'm about to throw open the floor, and I'd like your thoughts. Are there other Readers? Does any of this make sense? Let's ruminate.

Are the are any King books you perceive a different reaction from each reader? It's the main question I've been chewing over the last few days, amidst a mental landscape otherwise preoccupied with this:

Thanks to The Truth Inside the Lie for the screencaps. 

What, for example, might each reader mentioned above think of Joyland? Or Storm of the Century? Ideally, here I'd have a breakdown of every-damn-thing with imagined responses from the five readers. Alas, the ideal and myself rarely meet. 

King's Highway pt. 5.5: Duma Key, Revisited

I finished my fourth reread of Duma Key in as many years last night. 

(2008)

It's the book I've nominated as King's best on at least two occasions (2012 and only a few weeks ago). I stand by that, as well as these remarks in my original review, but this time around some of the shortcuts in the last two or three hundred pages annoyed me more than on previous occasions. 

But who cares? It's not a perfect novel, but is it perfect enough? Absolutely. If it was the only thing he'd ever written, perhaps its excellence would stand out more clearly. As it is, it's like the hidden peak in the range on everyone's horizon, obscured by the ones easier to see from the ground, perhaps. Or perhaps it's just my personal favorite. Either/or makes no difference to me.

As it is not the only book King has written, though, it's instructive to consider what it has in common with its bibliographic brothers and sisters. I think if you have a fair idea of the ways King usually goes about his novel-writing business then it's easy to see the way he does so here is pretty tidy. He showed up with the toolbox he describes so well in On Writing and ready to build the reader a unique and multi-level summer home on the Florida coast. (Before, of course, invoking an ancient demon and then destroying the place with a hurricane. Caveat Emptor. Or perhaps - as scrawled on the remains of the gates to Heron's Roost, the first Eastland estate on Duma Key - it should be Abyssus Abyssum Invocat.)

I thought it might be fun to resurrect my King's Highway Bingo Scorecard to discuss some of these similarities with other King works. Maybe along the way I can explain - to myself as much as anyone else - why I feel all of these elements combine so pleasingly for me in Duma Key. As the Denver Post wrote in its review of the novel:

"The usual King devices are present: a penchant for dropping in pop-culture references to frame events; liberal applications of portent ('I wish with all my heart that I could have seen her better, because I never saw her again'); the convergence of multiple, seemingly unrelated stories like tributaries into a raging river; and a dreamlike climax in which characters transcend their abilities on their personal proving grounds.

But again, (it) works not in spite of these chestnuts but because of them. Somehow King can shuffle the same cards and consistently deal new storytelling hands. It is, in essence, his own supernatural accomplishment."

Hear, hear. And without further ado (insert sound fx of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" and car engine revving, tires squealing, then cut to fast-motion shots of the open road):

Is the protagonist from Maine? Minnesota. Duma is modeled on Casey Key, FL., and judging from how well King brings it to life here I hope he sets something else down there soon. Minnesota, too, for that matter, why not.

Does someone entertain thoughts of suicide? Yes. Suicide is not the dominant theme of the book, though; precisely the opposite.

Is there a psychic child? Yes, Libby, i.e. Elizabeth Eastlake as a youngster, though her psionic abilities are more like Edgar's. They're more perfect tuning forks for the supernatural Perse. 

Are plot events foreshadowed explicitly by a dead character/ dream character/ psychic? Yes.

Is there a big-ass storm at the end? Absolutely. King often uses storms as punctuation, as many writers do, or as found-structure. Here, the storm is the Götterdämmerung of the Edgar/Perse synthesis, which makes it the final, willful act of the healed (though not without considerable sacrifice) artist emerging from the underworld. Battered and weary - bereft of arm and more - but alive. 

Is there a racist / misogynist / falsely-religious antagonist? No.

Is there telepathy? The only conventionally telepathic character here is Wireman, and only for half the book. King has sometimes used telepathy as a blunt instrument or as a way of getting his characters out of trouble. I do not doubt his sincere fascination with the subject, but it sometimes amazes me how omnipresent it is in his work. You'd figure if only for variety someone would say "Hey now... again with this?" 

But here, telepathy - like the storm or the psychic child - is just another tool in his toolkit, used precisely and with great skill, rather than anything deus-ex-machina-y. (Jack's sudden ventriloquism at Heron's Roost aside. And maybe that's just there to draw attention to how he usually employs such things.) Duma Key is a rare transit-of-Venus in King's catalog where all of these elements line up to reflect (and refract) the novel's deeper themes.
 
Is there a wisecracking sidekick with repetitive catchphrases? And here we have the best of all these points: Wireman. Not only is Wireman the best sidekick character in any King book - the perfect synthesis of Matt Burke, Glen Bateman, Richie Tozier, Eddie Dean, Tom McCourt, you name it - his repetitive-catchphrase-disorder actually makes sense: it's the result of having been shot in the head. Plus, his chemistry with Edgar is very agreeable. It's oversold in spots, much the same way every character in the book makes a point to verbalize that Jack "is just terrific", but in a way, that's part of the fun. I get the impression King wasn't stacking the deck to get us to like them; he was just letting them speak freely amongst themselves. These are characters who think the world of one another.

Are there epistolary sections? Yes. I've mentioned elsewhere that these sections are never my favorite parts of King-books. Whomever the letter/journal writer, he or she always sounds the same from novel-to-novel, and it never reads authentically to me. Duma Key only has a few (emails from Pam, Edgar, Kamen, and Ilse, mainly), and they're not bad. The rare exception in this category.

Is info deliberately withheld between chapters/ sections to build page-turning suspense? Yes, and maybe a bit too much in the back pages. A little of that goes a long way. I rolled my eyes at Jack's sudden ventriloquism as a way to give voice to Noreen from the first read on, but maybe all of Edgar's super-powered insight into Nan Melda's and Elizabeth's first go-round with Perse is a little info-dump-y. 

I quite like Wireman's bravado, though. This has nothing to do with info deliberately being withheld - neither does the last part of the above paragraph, for that matter. Consider these additional remarks as bonus features.

Does someone not give "shit one" or say "happy crappy?" I think there is one not-giving-of-shit-one. Most of this novel's refrains ("Houston, we are a go for such-and-such" or any of Wireman's wise sayings) work very well.

Does someone imitate or engage in "mammy" dialogue? Sort of, with Nan Melda/ Noreen. But only minimally, and you could certainly argue that it, too, is in service to theme and not just that Little Black Sambo Tourette's that occasionally (and unfortunately) possesses King. 
 
And perhaps the most important square: 

Is it a ridiculously enjoyable read? For me, this is as compulsively readable as any other book in the big man's catalog. It's epic and wonderful and moving and mystical and filled with insights both profound and unsettling. And just as a writerly construction, I admire the crap out of it.

~

I don't believe there are any plans to bring Duma Key to either the small or big screen. Which on one hand is too bad. I love the story, and I can easily see it as a movie or mini-series. It might be tricky to pull off all of Edgar's paintings, but it could be done, and done quite well.

On the other, I'm incredibly sick of disappointing King adaptations. No need to rush things. 

Nevertheless, I couldn't help picturing the whole thing as a miniseries as I read along. Previous casting suggestions in these pages (by Bryant Burnette) were Bryan Cranston as Edgar and Edward James Olmos as Wireman. That's about as perfectly-matched to the characters in the book as you can get, although Olmos' style might be too subdued for Wireman. He more than makes up for that in awesomeness, though.  

Something funny happened, though, the more I imagined this as a miniseries. It became in my imagination less and less about the book itself and more a Miami Vice-style adaptation. It started with picturing the theme music - which is completely inappropriate for the style and atmosphere of the book, of course - over some montage of Southwest Florida scenery and scenes from the book. The idea amused me enough where I eventually began imagining Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas as Edgar and Wireman, and then eventually Crockett and Tubbs as Edgar and Wireman, and the whole story taking place in (and changing to fit) some kind of Miami Vice reunion movie, all leading up to the epic ending with Crockett and Tubbs a la Edgar and Wireman on Lake Phelan, returning bad-assedly to shore after drowning Perse to sleep, shot and scored in traditional style.

Man. Not for the last time - and for dubious reasons - my lack of both millions of dollars and studio connections pains me deeply. Not for my own sake but the world's.

These Miami Vice-isms aside, Duma Key remains the Dog Star Omnibus pick for Unsung Heavyweight Champ of the Kingverse. 

King's Highway pt. 5 Duma Key

The cover to the paperback that I bought at Myopic. $3.50. Nice.

First a confession... Many of you probably remember the "Numa Numa" viral video from a few years back. As a result of over-saturation of that in those days (thank you, Bill Terranova) everytime I picked this book up when I was leaving my apartment or work, I got the song in my head and had Du-ma KEY, Du-ma KOO-OO... ringing a four-alarm-fire in the brains all day. Whew.

Another confession: I'm an idiot. I can't believe I've let so many King books go by (This is blog #5 and we've covered Salem's Lot, Night Shift, and Firestarter, but I've been reading far ahead of that and need to catch up, verdammt) without catching at least a couple of lines I really liked and writing them down. I have corrected my trajectory. Here's one:

"If you keep your focus," (paraphrasing Nietzsche) "eventually your focus will keep you."

Spoken by Wireman, one of my favorite King's-elder-guys I can ever remember reading. Poor bastard. Well, sort of. Anyway - I'm starting to see a bit of a pattern in the male relationships in King's work, or at least the smart-ass sidekick who lapses into 60s-TV-isms. Mainly guys who talk in accents you'd hear on 60s tv, I mean, or their speech is peppered with catchphrases. It might be a little repetitive, but why try to reinvent the wheel/ construct a huge spider's-web when you've got something that reads real and works? Anyway.

Hello Dali you're still swinging, I'm still singing

This is a mountain range of a novel. I was about 200 pages in before I realized I was walking this mega trail through them. Now that it's done, as I told Dawn earlier, and I meant it, I miss the crap out of walking it for the first time.

It is a novel about loss, and recovery, and more loss, and more recovery. Supernatural inspiration and the toll it takes on you. And relationships and how powerful and mysterious they are.

Not that it's a perfect book or can cut diamonds when recited at hyper-speed by a baritone, as the crazy uncle I never really had used to say. But it's more than perfect enough for me. And should be for you, too. If I was writing for a reputable magazine, I might say, "Well, Wireman's dialogue is a bit repetitive. He calls Edgar 'muchacho' more than Mary Jane calls Peter Parker 'Tiger' in those old Stan Lee scripts." Or I might bring up Nan Melda and find something there (though, perhaps not? I actually wouldn't mind reading some analysis of that character. Seems to me, she comes off not quite well but quite real and quite an important plotting refraction/ relay-point for the theme of it all.) But who gives a crap, really? I'm so glad I don't have to pretend I don't actually find it all quite lovely and evocative and wonderful to read.

The last act reminded me a little of Salem's Lot - they race the sunset to kill the monster, which inserts itself in the protagonists' heads and uses human and animal proxy to keep an eye/ run an audible. I got swept up in it, I cared about the characters, I envisioned everything described, I got mad and I got sad, and now I miss them. These things tip the scales in the balance of a life-worth-examined, you ask me.

Little things I loved: the still-growing ghost-fingernails digging into the ghost palm and forearm, the storms and the flora, the paints.

It makes sense when you read it.

And also, my now-reigning favorite description of Sharpies:  

"In my old life, I'd hated Sharpies for both the smell of the ink and their tendency to smear. In this one I'd come to love the fat boldness of the lines they created, lines that seem to insist on their own absolute reality."

It's 11:05 pm on a weeknight and give me a rake, Ma Bell. (Cross-connect! It makes sense when you read it.)

One final note - when Perse made her first appearance, I was caught unawares...

Stop now or I'll take the other one, too.

but I almost made the "yes" gesture. 

You know the one, where you make a fist  and turn it to your chest, then pump it up and down and silently nod along? That one. But: with my ghost arm.

See you next time.

(EDIT: I google-image searched all images in this post and did not appropriately credit the artists of the last two. I did so again just now, hoping I could find and cite them, but no luck. I apologize for my half-assedness in originally posting them without proper credit and for my having no further information to give.)