When I first made my way through the Dark Towers, I followed the trail guide to the series over at The Truth Inside the Lie. This involved all the officially peripheral material King himself listed on the inside cover to Wolves of the Calla, as well as several additional works. This time I didn't want to reread everything (although that expanded trail guide at the bottom of that TTITL post will one day be hiked, say true) but I did want to look at a few of the related novellas.
Both of the two discussed below can be found in:
"The Little Sisters of Eluria"
After he's viciously beaten by a group of fast-moving Slow Mutants, Roland awakens in a strange hospital, attended by eerie, happy-ending nuns. The only other patient is covered in bandages in a hammock near his, and from hushed palaver between them, Roland confirms his own suspicions: the nuns are vampires. While the doctors - tiny vampire bugs who swarm over wounds and secrete healing juices or nibbling healingly or some disgusting thing - heal his wounds, the nurses keep him drugged. With aid from Sister Jenna, who has fallen for him, Roland escapes. She is still one of the Sisters, though, and when the morning sun rises, Sister Jenna disintegrates.
I liked this the first time I read it; I loved it on this reread. I could read a million of these standalone straight-fantasy side adventures. And not because that's how I prefer my Dark Tower reading, but because they're all the more interesting against that big epic backdrop to come. There's a lot of time to fill in between the flashback events we know of in Roland's life and when we meet him in The Gunslinger. And while too much of it - say, several seasons of some kind of Young Roland After the Fall of Gilead * and Before the Following of the Man in Black Into the Desert show - might be too much (and I say might be) there could be several more novellas like this and nothing would feel crowded.
* This is predicated, of course, on the fall of Gilead happening relatively soon after Roland's adventures in Mejis and Debaria (Wind Through the Keyhole). I kind of assume it did. John Farson was gathering his forces in Wizard and Glass, and though blowing up his tanker trucks undoubtedly set him back considerably, it couldn't have been for more than a year or two. And we know from Roland's telling Eddie and Susannah that the time between then and the beginning of the Gunslinger was 22 years (give or take, time's a little slippery in Roland's world). Still, maybe Roland had a few more years in Gilead than I'm accounting for. If it's nailed down anywhere, I can't place it.
There's some great voice in this one. Roland is both recognizably himself and not-himself, which fits the timeframe of the larger story perfectly. Not much to say on this one - all of King's strengths are on display here and no gristle. Those looking for revelations about the mysteries of the main series will find none, but those looking for an evocative and eerie tale situated perfectly among them, told for the simple telling of a good story, will be well met along the Path.
Some bits I wrote down:
What happens to the medallion he gets, I wonder? At the end he puts it around his neck. Is it ever mentioned again? It probably is - at some pivotal moment I've already read and should have noted. That's my ka, I guess. (Can I use that, too?)
I get these song associations with the titles of things I'm reading. Here are a few of the more recent ones.
- "Little Sisters of Eluria" became stuck in mind as some tricky-syllable version of Tesla's "Little Suzi." I wish I had time to sit down an attempt a full-on rewrite of that one with plot details from the novella.
- "Low Men in Yellow Coats" became somewhat improbably Foghat's "Slow Ride." I'll assume no link necessary and the riff and howling vocals are already in your head. But man, I'd love to hear this one. ("LOW MEN! (ben-brn-nrw, nnn-nrn-nrrnw) Wearing YELLOW COATS!" Or, if you prefer, "they in yellow coats.")
- "Song of Susannah" became "Roseanna" by Toto, and I'm not proud of this one because it started as me singing "I wake up in New York and all of a sudden I've got white legs! / Susannah, Fo-fannah!" Which is kind of not the best peg to hang your hat on, particularly the "fo-fanna" part, which sounds like I'm having a stroke. One wonders why I'd even bring it up. Answer: because I give you the full truth.
I never developed it from there. But everytime I see the cover of the book, so it goes.
While we're here, I watched that whole "Roseanna" video just now. Holy moley. Steve Lokather is as committed to rocking this guitar solo - visually, emotively, and instrumentally - as anyone or thing I've ever seen.
And this next one, which became "Everyday I Write the Book" by Elvis Costello and the Attractions. A song I don't even fancy that much, truth be told, but the syllables matched up. I don't control or get to pick which associations happen, anyway - would that I could.
If there's a Dark Tower themed covers band out there, or any junior high or camp kids out there looking to rock their talent show, I humbly offer these as avenues of exploration.
Enough of that. On to:
Dinky Earnshaw has a unique ability he doesn't understand. And as the story is told from his point of view, the reader doesn't get to understand it either. But neither Dinky nor the reader needs to - it's murky and weird but perfectly clear: if he adds the right incomprehensible symbols with names like mirks, fouders, and sankofites to any email, letter, picture, or other visual image, it creates an unstoppable suicidal feedback loop in the unconscious of the recipient. He discovers this by doing so to a dog that intimidated him in youth and to a bullying co-worker more recently.
He is recruited into the Trans Corporation, one of the Crimson King's many corporate tentacles in our world (the "real" timeline) by one Mr. Sharpton, a man with a King Arthur tie who searches the worlds for those with Dinky's abilities. After a week's training in Peoria, IL (a realistic choice for a training centers of the damned to be tucked away in plain sight and never discovered) Dinky's given a house and limited expense account / internet access. All he has to do is: (a) dispose of any money he has left over, paycheck-to-paycheck, and (b) send one of his magic-kill-grams to supplied targets as the mood strikes him.
Dinky begins to doubt the ethics of his situation and his participation in it. He sends Mr. Sharpton his resignation - with lots of whirly mirks and sankofites and personalized "Excalibur."
I'm not completely sold on the the title or its use a catchphrase. It might even be a comment on the sort of dumb catchphrase someone like Dinky might find mega-rad and is supposed to sound dumb, I don't know. Anyway it's not a dealbreaker. The name "Dinky" almost is. (And by extension the unbelievable proliferation and alliteration that goes with it: Dinky's Dayboard, Dinkymail, etc.) He's a well-sketched character, though - King bringing to life from the ground up another psionic outsider whose social outcast status is exploited by those men who do such things professionally. Yet he has his own voice, his own unique place in the King lore, dinky-dau name or familiar background aside.
King sometimes to be almost in contempt of naming characters, like the idea has come to offend him. And yet for each example I can think of (John Smith, Mike Anderson, Dinky Earnhart) they're all great and memorable characters, names be damned. Joke's on me, I guess; you outlawyered me, Sai.
Another not-a-dealbreaker-but-didn't-care-for: the whole "you're a tranny now" stuff, in reference to the Trans Corp. Sometimes I think King's lack of mental circuit breakers when it comes to these things is some kind of something.
King talks about how he got the central image of someone pouring change down a sewer drain and the story grew from there. I love these little glimpses into the process, even when they baffle me. I was interested in why Dinky was disallowed to save money and didn't think enough was provided to justify it. But I think beyond the story's obvious connections to the Dark Tower, it's mostly a satire on the American Dream, a conceptual cousin to Needful Things. Not as good as that one, but broad strokes are allowed in the name of metaphor.
As for that metaphor, it's a tad clumsy: the class and political arguments informing the heroes and villains of the saga are kind of cartoony. I did chuckle at how the Fake News mantra is put over so succinctly by Mr. Sharpton: "This is something you'll have to decide on the basis of what you feel, not what you know."
Long story short: whatever else it is, it's very readable and very well put-together. I like stories where the reader is one step ahead of the protagonist but both are swept along in the same narrative. It's a pleasant blend of narrative momentum.
Both it and "Eluria" are strong examples of King humming along in the vicinity of his best.
Both of the two discussed below can be found in:
"The Little Sisters of Eluria"
After he's viciously beaten by a group of fast-moving Slow Mutants, Roland awakens in a strange hospital, attended by eerie, happy-ending nuns. The only other patient is covered in bandages in a hammock near his, and from hushed palaver between them, Roland confirms his own suspicions: the nuns are vampires. While the doctors - tiny vampire bugs who swarm over wounds and secrete healing juices or nibbling healingly or some disgusting thing - heal his wounds, the nurses keep him drugged. With aid from Sister Jenna, who has fallen for him, Roland escapes. She is still one of the Sisters, though, and when the morning sun rises, Sister Jenna disintegrates.
"When the sun was fully up the gunslinger moved on west. He would find another horse eventually, or a mule, but for now he was content to walk. All that day he was haunted by a ringing, singing sound in his ears, a sound like bells. Several times he stopped and looked around, sure he would see a dark following shape flowing over the ground, chasing after as the shadows of our best and worst memories chase after, but no shape was there. He was alone in the low hill country west of Eluria.
Quite alone."
Roland resumes his quest for the tower.
* This is predicated, of course, on the fall of Gilead happening relatively soon after Roland's adventures in Mejis and Debaria (Wind Through the Keyhole). I kind of assume it did. John Farson was gathering his forces in Wizard and Glass, and though blowing up his tanker trucks undoubtedly set him back considerably, it couldn't have been for more than a year or two. And we know from Roland's telling Eddie and Susannah that the time between then and the beginning of the Gunslinger was 22 years (give or take, time's a little slippery in Roland's world). Still, maybe Roland had a few more years in Gilead than I'm accounting for. If it's nailed down anywhere, I can't place it.
There's some great voice in this one. Roland is both recognizably himself and not-himself, which fits the timeframe of the larger story perfectly. Not much to say on this one - all of King's strengths are on display here and no gristle. Those looking for revelations about the mysteries of the main series will find none, but those looking for an evocative and eerie tale situated perfectly among them, told for the simple telling of a good story, will be well met along the Path.
Some bits I wrote down:
"As far as Roland was concerned, God o'the cross was just another religion which taught that love and murder were inextricably bound together - that in the end, God always drank blood."
(Father Callahan might disagree! Then again, he might not.)
(Father Callahan might disagree! Then again, he might not.)
"If there's to be damnation, she had said, let it be of my choosing, not theirs."
(Something of a theme in Roland's love life.)
"Roland of Gilead responded as he ever had and ever would when such useless, mystifying questions were raised. 'Ka. Come on.'"
(At least he didn't do the finger-twirl thing.)
"Time belongs to the Tower."
What happens to the medallion he gets, I wonder? At the end he puts it around his neck. Is it ever mentioned again? It probably is - at some pivotal moment I've already read and should have noted. That's my ka, I guess. (Can I use that, too?)
A MUSICAL INTERLUDE
I get these song associations with the titles of things I'm reading. Here are a few of the more recent ones.
- "Little Sisters of Eluria" became stuck in mind as some tricky-syllable version of Tesla's "Little Suzi." I wish I had time to sit down an attempt a full-on rewrite of that one with plot details from the novella.
- "Low Men in Yellow Coats" became somewhat improbably Foghat's "Slow Ride." I'll assume no link necessary and the riff and howling vocals are already in your head. But man, I'd love to hear this one. ("LOW MEN! (ben-brn-nrw, nnn-nrn-nrrnw) Wearing YELLOW COATS!" Or, if you prefer, "they in yellow coats.")
- "Song of Susannah" became "Roseanna" by Toto, and I'm not proud of this one because it started as me singing "I wake up in New York and all of a sudden I've got white legs! / Susannah, Fo-fannah!" Which is kind of not the best peg to hang your hat on, particularly the "fo-fanna" part, which sounds like I'm having a stroke. One wonders why I'd even bring it up. Answer: because I give you the full truth.
I never developed it from there. But everytime I see the cover of the book, so it goes.
While we're here, I watched that whole "Roseanna" video just now. Holy moley. Steve Lokather is as committed to rocking this guitar solo - visually, emotively, and instrumentally - as anyone or thing I've ever seen.
 |
| Roland would have this guy killing with his heart in no time at all. |
And this next one, which became "Everyday I Write the Book" by Elvis Costello and the Attractions. A song I don't even fancy that much, truth be told, but the syllables matched up. I don't control or get to pick which associations happen, anyway - would that I could.
If there's a Dark Tower themed covers band out there, or any junior high or camp kids out there looking to rock their talent show, I humbly offer these as avenues of exploration.
Enough of that. On to:
"Everything's Eventual"
Dinky Earnshaw has a unique ability he doesn't understand. And as the story is told from his point of view, the reader doesn't get to understand it either. But neither Dinky nor the reader needs to - it's murky and weird but perfectly clear: if he adds the right incomprehensible symbols with names like mirks, fouders, and sankofites to any email, letter, picture, or other visual image, it creates an unstoppable suicidal feedback loop in the unconscious of the recipient. He discovers this by doing so to a dog that intimidated him in youth and to a bullying co-worker more recently.
He is recruited into the Trans Corporation, one of the Crimson King's many corporate tentacles in our world (the "real" timeline) by one Mr. Sharpton, a man with a King Arthur tie who searches the worlds for those with Dinky's abilities. After a week's training in Peoria, IL (a realistic choice for a training centers of the damned to be tucked away in plain sight and never discovered) Dinky's given a house and limited expense account / internet access. All he has to do is: (a) dispose of any money he has left over, paycheck-to-paycheck, and (b) send one of his magic-kill-grams to supplied targets as the mood strikes him.
Dinky begins to doubt the ethics of his situation and his participation in it. He sends Mr. Sharpton his resignation - with lots of whirly mirks and sankofites and personalized "Excalibur."
 |
| Still from the Dollar Baby by J.P. Scott. |
I'm not completely sold on the the title or its use a catchphrase. It might even be a comment on the sort of dumb catchphrase someone like Dinky might find mega-rad and is supposed to sound dumb, I don't know. Anyway it's not a dealbreaker. The name "Dinky" almost is. (And by extension the unbelievable proliferation and alliteration that goes with it: Dinky's Dayboard, Dinkymail, etc.) He's a well-sketched character, though - King bringing to life from the ground up another psionic outsider whose social outcast status is exploited by those men who do such things professionally. Yet he has his own voice, his own unique place in the King lore, dinky-dau name or familiar background aside.
King sometimes to be almost in contempt of naming characters, like the idea has come to offend him. And yet for each example I can think of (John Smith, Mike Anderson, Dinky Earnhart) they're all great and memorable characters, names be damned. Joke's on me, I guess; you outlawyered me, Sai.
Another not-a-dealbreaker-but-didn't-care-for: the whole "you're a tranny now" stuff, in reference to the Trans Corp. Sometimes I think King's lack of mental circuit breakers when it comes to these things is some kind of something.
King talks about how he got the central image of someone pouring change down a sewer drain and the story grew from there. I love these little glimpses into the process, even when they baffle me. I was interested in why Dinky was disallowed to save money and didn't think enough was provided to justify it. But I think beyond the story's obvious connections to the Dark Tower, it's mostly a satire on the American Dream, a conceptual cousin to Needful Things. Not as good as that one, but broad strokes are allowed in the name of metaphor.
As for that metaphor, it's a tad clumsy: the class and political arguments informing the heroes and villains of the saga are kind of cartoony. I did chuckle at how the Fake News mantra is put over so succinctly by Mr. Sharpton: "This is something you'll have to decide on the basis of what you feel, not what you know."
Long story short: whatever else it is, it's very readable and very well put-together. I like stories where the reader is one step ahead of the protagonist but both are swept along in the same narrative. It's a pleasant blend of narrative momentum.
Both it and "Eluria" are strong examples of King humming along in the vicinity of his best.
