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I've never read Stephen King before. When I was younger, I was convinced that I wouldn't like his writing, mostly 'cause I know for a fact that horror movies freak me out, and not in a good way.
Earlier this year, I accidentally stumbled into Peter Straub (Floating Dragon). Then I deliberately stumbled into Clive Barker (Weaveworld). I did not like either one, but was surprised in how similar the ways I didn't like either one were. While the novels are very different, there was a certain similar feeling to them that I despised, and began to wonder if it were simply "80s horror" as a genre. So I bit the bullet and got a copy of arguably the most famous horror writer of the era (or ever, really).
Now, I realize that it's not fair to take three fairly prolific authors and judge them based on one work (chosen at random) each. But it's what I've got to work with, and I find myself with no interest at all in reading any more Straub or Barker.
One thing I will say for all of them - on the sentance level, I admire the writing of all three. Verging on purple, of course, but they all have a definite way with words.
The things I did not like about Barker and Straub:
- Insufficient internal logic. I read a lot of fantasy and science fiction. I do not require that my books be perfectly realistic. But I expect strong enough rules to be laid down by, say, the midpoint of the story, that by the end you aren't surprised by anyone's abilities. You can, and should, be surprised by the way they use their abilities, but if the demon's weakness is music, there should be an indication of that. Not just that the magical-abused-woman (startlingly similar to the Magical Negro) suddenly has a feeling they should all sing and lo and behold the demon dies.
- Gratuitous graphicness. Look, I get that it's horror, and people want to be horrified. But honestly? There's a lot in the world as it is that's horrifying. Add the supernatural, and you should have endless possibilities. But if you're going to try to horrify me, I want actual horror, not just squickiness. Faucets that spray disgusting pus-y stuff because the mass murder rendered the fat of his victims in the basement and you've just been covered with rendered fat of innocent babies? That's horrific. Faucets that spray disgusting pus-y stuff for no apparent reason, which is never explained? That just makes me want to break out the bleach. Or in Weaveworld, a guy is raped by an evil ghost witch, and a few days later, the monstrous child of the coupling attacks him and he has to kill it. That's really horrible, wrapping up all kinds of taboos - rape, having to kill children, having your children turn on you, etc. But in the book, the character doesn't really spend much time dwelling on the fact that his act, unwilling or not, makes him partially responsible for this creature, or that he's been violated, or that his own child is a monster. It's just "ewww something gross is trying to kill me". The character has the exact same reactions as if some zombies gummed at him a bit, and then a few days later, an unrelated bunch of zombies gummed at him again.
Which leads me to my last complaint, which is
- Totally cardboard characters. The characters all have backstories and loved ones and everything a character should have to come to life. And yet they have no soul. And I think the problem is as shown above - they don't have an emotional connection to anything. The backstories and emotional ties and everything exist solely to be exploited. This hero has a girlfriend who exists to take care of him conveniently, but who he abandons repeatedly and never thinks of again. That hero's father dies in a terrible fire while possessed by demons, which doesn't seem to cause all that much trouble. The characters are appropriately horrified when presented with something horrifying, but there are no real lingering scars from it. Or serious growth. They're not people, they're puppets.
Which all leads me to King.
Who does none of this.
I will admit, it's not a straight comparison, and so perhaps not fair. Weaveworld and Floating Dragon are about the intersection of the fantastic with ostensibly normal people. Misery does not have a single unbelievable event in it. (Implausible? Sure. But stranger things have happened in real life.)
However, he does deal with serious mental illness, which I feel like writers treat just like magic, in that they make it do whatever the plot requires. The seeds of the ending are right at the beginning. Events escalate, of course, but at no point does he suddenly introduce aspects that were never hinted at.
The entire novel basically has two characters in a room. There's a couple minor characters at the beginning and the end, but basically it's just the two of them. And so King can't knock off people just to be gory. There's only one guy to hurt, and he can only take so much damage. And while the injuries Paul sustains are really horrific, he still gets off lightly when it comes to overall damage taken by characters in the other novels. After all, at least his skin doesn't turn to white foam and slide off his bones.
And it's much, much scarier. And much, much more horrific. Because at least 75% of the scariest moments aren't even when the villain is in the room. It's all in Paul's head, as he realizes the damage that's been done to him, as he imagines the damage that might still be done to him, and as he realizes that he's becoming complicit in that damage. Paul has significantly less backstory than any of the main characters in the other books. He has no one he loves. And yet King gets deep inside his head, where the fear lives, and drags us in with him. And the character is a person, rich, deep, flawed, and real.
And so every time things went badly for him, my heart ached. I anxiously raced through, wondering if the car would return while he was still in the room he wasn't supposed to be in. I cared. As opposed to the end of the other two novels, where I was beginning to actively root for the gruesome deaths of the main characters.
The other thing? Oddly enough, this is the best description of the creative process I've ever read. King puts it far more eloquently than I ever could, but his descriptions of that itchy-fingered "gottawritegottawrite" feeling, of how passing thoughts blossom into full stories, of the painful effort of sifting for an idea that your subconciousness hasn't finished, or that click when an idea suddenly shifts into place and the whole world opens up like a pop-up book - they're perfect.
So I know a lot of people call King a hack. But the level of difference between him and the others in his genre is kind of astonishing. And while his chosen genre isn't my favorite, I only wish I could write half as well as he does.
Earlier this year, I accidentally stumbled into Peter Straub (Floating Dragon). Then I deliberately stumbled into Clive Barker (Weaveworld). I did not like either one, but was surprised in how similar the ways I didn't like either one were. While the novels are very different, there was a certain similar feeling to them that I despised, and began to wonder if it were simply "80s horror" as a genre. So I bit the bullet and got a copy of arguably the most famous horror writer of the era (or ever, really).
Now, I realize that it's not fair to take three fairly prolific authors and judge them based on one work (chosen at random) each. But it's what I've got to work with, and I find myself with no interest at all in reading any more Straub or Barker.
One thing I will say for all of them - on the sentance level, I admire the writing of all three. Verging on purple, of course, but they all have a definite way with words.
The things I did not like about Barker and Straub:
- Insufficient internal logic. I read a lot of fantasy and science fiction. I do not require that my books be perfectly realistic. But I expect strong enough rules to be laid down by, say, the midpoint of the story, that by the end you aren't surprised by anyone's abilities. You can, and should, be surprised by the way they use their abilities, but if the demon's weakness is music, there should be an indication of that. Not just that the magical-abused-woman (startlingly similar to the Magical Negro) suddenly has a feeling they should all sing and lo and behold the demon dies.
- Gratuitous graphicness. Look, I get that it's horror, and people want to be horrified. But honestly? There's a lot in the world as it is that's horrifying. Add the supernatural, and you should have endless possibilities. But if you're going to try to horrify me, I want actual horror, not just squickiness. Faucets that spray disgusting pus-y stuff because the mass murder rendered the fat of his victims in the basement and you've just been covered with rendered fat of innocent babies? That's horrific. Faucets that spray disgusting pus-y stuff for no apparent reason, which is never explained? That just makes me want to break out the bleach. Or in Weaveworld, a guy is raped by an evil ghost witch, and a few days later, the monstrous child of the coupling attacks him and he has to kill it. That's really horrible, wrapping up all kinds of taboos - rape, having to kill children, having your children turn on you, etc. But in the book, the character doesn't really spend much time dwelling on the fact that his act, unwilling or not, makes him partially responsible for this creature, or that he's been violated, or that his own child is a monster. It's just "ewww something gross is trying to kill me". The character has the exact same reactions as if some zombies gummed at him a bit, and then a few days later, an unrelated bunch of zombies gummed at him again.
Which leads me to my last complaint, which is
- Totally cardboard characters. The characters all have backstories and loved ones and everything a character should have to come to life. And yet they have no soul. And I think the problem is as shown above - they don't have an emotional connection to anything. The backstories and emotional ties and everything exist solely to be exploited. This hero has a girlfriend who exists to take care of him conveniently, but who he abandons repeatedly and never thinks of again. That hero's father dies in a terrible fire while possessed by demons, which doesn't seem to cause all that much trouble. The characters are appropriately horrified when presented with something horrifying, but there are no real lingering scars from it. Or serious growth. They're not people, they're puppets.
Which all leads me to King.
Who does none of this.
I will admit, it's not a straight comparison, and so perhaps not fair. Weaveworld and Floating Dragon are about the intersection of the fantastic with ostensibly normal people. Misery does not have a single unbelievable event in it. (Implausible? Sure. But stranger things have happened in real life.)
However, he does deal with serious mental illness, which I feel like writers treat just like magic, in that they make it do whatever the plot requires. The seeds of the ending are right at the beginning. Events escalate, of course, but at no point does he suddenly introduce aspects that were never hinted at.
The entire novel basically has two characters in a room. There's a couple minor characters at the beginning and the end, but basically it's just the two of them. And so King can't knock off people just to be gory. There's only one guy to hurt, and he can only take so much damage. And while the injuries Paul sustains are really horrific, he still gets off lightly when it comes to overall damage taken by characters in the other novels. After all, at least his skin doesn't turn to white foam and slide off his bones.
And it's much, much scarier. And much, much more horrific. Because at least 75% of the scariest moments aren't even when the villain is in the room. It's all in Paul's head, as he realizes the damage that's been done to him, as he imagines the damage that might still be done to him, and as he realizes that he's becoming complicit in that damage. Paul has significantly less backstory than any of the main characters in the other books. He has no one he loves. And yet King gets deep inside his head, where the fear lives, and drags us in with him. And the character is a person, rich, deep, flawed, and real.
And so every time things went badly for him, my heart ached. I anxiously raced through, wondering if the car would return while he was still in the room he wasn't supposed to be in. I cared. As opposed to the end of the other two novels, where I was beginning to actively root for the gruesome deaths of the main characters.
The other thing? Oddly enough, this is the best description of the creative process I've ever read. King puts it far more eloquently than I ever could, but his descriptions of that itchy-fingered "gottawritegottawrite" feeling, of how passing thoughts blossom into full stories, of the painful effort of sifting for an idea that your subconciousness hasn't finished, or that click when an idea suddenly shifts into place and the whole world opens up like a pop-up book - they're perfect.
So I know a lot of people call King a hack. But the level of difference between him and the others in his genre is kind of astonishing. And while his chosen genre isn't my favorite, I only wish I could write half as well as he does.
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no subject
Date: 2010-04-27 12:40 am (UTC)From:http://www.amazon.com/dp/031255513X/ref=cm_sw_su_dp
It's Cthulhu meets Clerks, if that sounds at all appealing.
Don't get too attached to the John character...
no subject
Date: 2010-04-27 03:23 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-04-27 11:27 am (UTC)From:Dead Zone I couldn't get through. When I realized the utter contempt in which he held his female characters, I just couldn't take it. Which is a problem with Carrie, too. (Seriously, I don't think any female writers are as obsessed with menstruation as he is. I guess to a guy that really is horror...?)
no subject
Date: 2010-04-27 11:41 am (UTC)From: