Those of us who like to read can become a little
obsessed with
finding that special book or author because we know that
"a good read
is hard to find." We spend countless hours browsing
through book
stores and libraries looking for just the right book.
Sure, there
are plenty of "good" books on the market meant to take
up our time
and energy when we read them -- most of them forgettable.
Many books
are written by authors whose only reason for writing
them is to make
money, or to make a name for themselves. There
are also authors who
want to preach or teach, but most of these books are
dull and boring
unless you are particularly interested in the subject.
Then there
are those special books that immediately cause you to
gravitate
toward them like found treasure.
Over the years I have varied my reading interests
from science
fiction to love stories, from murder mysteries to classics,
and then
finally to thrillers. Nothing really seemed to
satisfy me, or to
catch my attention in that special way, like a "good
read" would.
They were always books that I could pick up or lay down
at my
discretion. There was never that delicious sensation
of frustration
felt if I didn't go on reading to find out what happened
next -- that
is until I found Stephen King. Now here was someone
who wrote and
thought on my wavelength. I was enthralled with
him and his books.
When I first read King's Carrie in 1974, I knew
that I had
experienced "a good read" for the first time in years.
King appealed
to my "dark side" and I liked the way he wrote.
It seemed as if he
was speaking only to me, and I liked that special kind
of intimacy.
He wrote just the way he talked -- nothing preachy or
fancy -- but in
an intellectual way that was right up my alley.
At first I thought
that Carrie was a one-of-a-kind book and that we would
never hear
from King again. Boy, was I wrong! When 'Salem's
Lot and The
Shining were published, I knew I had found that special
author I had
been looking for most of my adult life, and began to
search for his
books in the stores. These books not only scared
me to death, but
held my attention throughout the entire reading.
King has been called the most prolific and successful
writer of
the horror genre in this century. To date he has
published eighteen
full-length books of fiction, in addition to five under
the name of
Richard Bachman, three collections of short stories,
one book of
non-fiction, and five screenplays. In addition,
at least fifteen of
his stories have been made into movies.
Most of his books are based on a struggle between
good and evil,
and King tickles our imagination with frequent stories
of the
supernatural. In The Shining and in Firestarter,
he introduces us to
characters able to perform telekinesis and pyrogenics.
Christine is
a haunted car able to rejuvenate itself at will, and
The
Tommyknockers are beings from outerspace. Perhaps
the most
terrifying of all his books is It, recently presented
as a
made-for-television movie. Shortly after reading
this book, I came
face to face with a giant jack-in-a-box clown at Walgreen's
in the
mall, and felt utter terror as I gazed into its smiling
face. I
still break out in goose bumps every time I think about
that
confrontation. After Cujo was published, I had
a similar moment of
terror when I came upon a St. Bernard dog sitting in
front of the
Pantry in Marion seemingly smiling at me.
King likes to prey on our fears and reveal to us
the things that
haunt us -- our fear of the dark, our fear of what is
lurking under
the bed ready to grab our feet if they happen to stick
out while we
are sleeping, and our fear of creepy, crawly creatures.
His frequent
references to books and music familiar to me also make
his stories
more appealing, and I can relate to him because he is
of my
generation.
Since 1974, when I first read Carrie, I have spent
sixteen years
reading and collecting all of King's books. I have,
in fact, read
The Stand four times (I purchased both versions of the
book). I even
read the three books his wife Tabitha wrote thinking
I could learn
more about him through her stories. I bought books
about him, and
have seen his movies countless times.
Yes, I know, all this sounds obsessive, but let
me tell you what
it feels like when I have read one of his books.
First, there is
that little electrifying thrill that comes with walking
into
Waldenbooks or Readmore and spotting his latest on the
racks. Just
seeing those black covers with the silver and red causes
my pulse to
quicken. I feel the weight of the book, and then
see how many pages
it contains. The longer the book, the more I anticipate
the reading,
because I feel it will be a good one. I can barely
wait to get home
as I never allow myself to start reading or leafing through
the pages
beforehand.
Once home, I make sure I will have no distractions.
I study and
caress the cover and look at King's picture on the back.
Now I allow
myself to turn to the first page. Then, with an
anticipation found
only in lovemaking, I begin.
Sometimes I have to re-read the first couple of
paragraphs
because I am so caught up in the act of reading that
I miss the
story. By then, though, it seems as if I'm trapped.
I want to read
fast so I can find out what happens next, but I also
want to prolong
the pleasure. So, I find myself going back to re-read
sections. The
outside world has disappeared for me, and I have developed
tunnel vision. Everyday demands have ceased, and
my mind becomes
focused only on the book. The story has become
my world and it seems
as if I have spiraled down into it -- not reading the
words, but
feeling the sensations the characters are feeling and
saying the
words they are saying.
The frenzy to finish the book becomes an obsession
at that
point. I read until I can no longer read anymore.
My brain
overloads and my eyes will no longer focus. I spend
mornings reading
before work, and I hurry home in the evenings to read
more. The day
finally comes, though, when I sense the end is near.
The ambiguity I
feel is awesome. I want to know what happens (the
desire to read the
last page is sometimes overwhelming), but at the same
time I dread
the finish. I know that once I am finished, I will
have to wait
another year for a new King book to be published.
But, just like
sex, I am carried through to the inevitable climax almost
against my
will.
When the last page has been read and the book is
closed for the
final time, the satisfaction of that "good read" spreads
through me.
Sometimes, I might want to scan back through the book
to recapture
moments that I may have missed. But, for the most
part, the only
thing I want to do is reach for a cigarette.