Character Description

So I'm currently reading Misery by Stephen King, and though I'm only about 25% through it, I'm enjoying it immensely. It's suspenseful, but it's also fascinating from a stylistic perspective. I'll have to reserve my full judgment until I finish it of course, but right now it's shaping up to be one of my all-time favorite Stephen King novels--and that's saying a lot. (I'm also looking forward to watching the film once I finish the book, which I've also never seen.)

My copy totally has this retro cover btw.

When King's on, he's really on, folks. This guy is a professional that knows what he's doing. Check out one of my favorite sequences so far, the character description of the infamous Annie Wilkes:

That prescient part of his mind saw her before he knew he was seeing her, and must surely have understood her before he knew he was understanding her--why else did he associate such dour, ominous images with her? Whenever she came into the room he thought of the graven images worshipped by superstitious African tribes in the novels of H. Rider Haggard, and stones, and doom.

The image of Annie Wilkes as an African idol out of She or King or Solomon's Mines was both ludicrous and queerly apt. She was a big woman who, other than the large but unwelcoming swell of her bosom under the gray cardigan sweater she always wore, seemed to have no feminine curves at all--there was no defined roundness of hip or buttock or even calf below the endless succession of wool skirts she wore in the house (she retired to her unseen bedroom to put on jeans before doing her outside chores). Her body was big but not generous. There was a feeling about her of clots and roadblocks rather than welcoming orifices or even open spaces, areas of hiatus.

Most of all she gave him a disturbing sense of solidarity, as if she might not have any blood vessels or even internal organs; as if she might be only solid Annie Wilkes from side to side and top to bottom. He felt more and more convinced that her eyes, which appeared to move, were actually just painted on, and they moved no more than the eyes of portraits which appear to follow you to wherever you move in the room where they hang. It seemed to him that if he made the first two fingers of his hand into a V and attempted to poke them up her nostrils, they might go less than an eighth of an inch before encountering a solid (if slightly yielding) obstruction; that even her gray cardigan and frumpy house skirts and faded outside-work jeans were part of that solid fibrous unchannelled body. So his feelings that she was like an idol in a perfervid novel was not really surprising at all. Like an idol, she gave only one thing: a feeling of unease deepening steadily toward terror. Like an idol, she took everything else. 

Wow. That's a character description if I've ever seen one. I particularly love the third paragraph and the description of her "solidarity"--so vivid, so interestingly written.

I'll admit, the habit of extended character descriptions like the one above are sort of out of style these days--many authors, including myself most of the time, favor minimalist descriptions. I personally like leaving as much of my character to the reader as possible, although there are certainly moments when I want more concrete physicality for one reason or another and I spend a bit more time with description. That said, I think part of why they're out of style is people attempted something like what King did above, but failed at it, making it long, boring, repetitive, and useless. I have to say, if more descriptions like this one popped up, I'd be pretty happy about it.

Anyway. Character description. Stephen King. Misery. Good stuff.

 

Scary Books! For Halloween!

I enjoy a good scare. Theres something primal about the sensation that deepens--and connects--the human experience (and I've already talked about why I think horror as a genre has value). So if a book, movie, or any other medium can give me the wiggins or scare me so bad that my body threatens to leak one fluid or another, I'm totes on board.

Normally I take the month of October to read something that genuinely scares me, but given the tiny life I'm responsible for these days I didn't even think about it until today. So, instead, and in that same spirit, I'll tell you about some of my all-time favorite scary stories, in no particular order.

Dracula by Bram Stoker
Vampires? Check. Blood and gore? Check. Thinly veiled exploration/critique of Victorian sexuality? Double check. Stoker didn't invent the vampire by any means, but he injected them into pop culture, and for that I can never thank him enough. Dracula is a great and genuinely scary read.

Carrie by Stephen King
King's first novel, and one that has endured the test of time. I know I gush a lot about Stephen King, so I won't do that here, other than to say that Carrie is awesome. It's a short read, perfect for a weekend (and, incidentally, the second novel told in epistolary form on my list after Dracula). Oh, and if your kids are bullying others at school, drop Carrie on their lap. It just might change their tune. (Or just have a serious talk about how bullying is terrible, but that's a whole other thing.)

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Neil Gaiman has written some phenomenal stuff, but my list needed something a bit more light-hearted and The Graveyard Book seemed a perfect fit. (Although for a light-hearted entry, this one still made me feel ALL the feels.) Plus its a retelling of The Jungle Book in a graveyard, so that's pretty cool.

Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist
Stoker may have stoked (SEE WHAT I DID THERE) the vampire genre, but Lindqvist helped...lind..qvist...okay that bit won't work (NOTHING, I DID NOTHING THERE), let me start over. In the midst of Twilight-fever, Let the Right One In was both a harkening back to the terrifying nature of vampires and a fascinating twist on the genre. And, while this is a horror list so at least some scary content should be expected, some really messed up stuff happens in this book, so it comes with an extra warning. And it's really really good.

Inferno (Part I of La divina commedia) by Dante Alighieri
Yearning for some classic horror? Look no further than Inferno--definitely not talking about the Dan Brown book, by the way. I'm talking about the epic poem with demons and devils (and if you thought the movie Se7en owned the punishment-fits-the-crime trope, you've got another thing coming) that has influenced how we view hell for the last 700 years. 'Nuff said, right? (Note: I recommend the Mandelbaum translation I've linked above if you're looking for an entertaining read that still maintains the spirit of Dante's brilliant poetic structure.)

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
I read this one just last Halloween, and I can say hands down it's the most terrifying book I've ever read. Like, genuinely messed-with-my-head-and-gave-me-nightmares scary. I'll include a passage from the introduction at the bottom of this post just for good measure*, but trust me. If you really want your skin to crawl and to look-over-your-shoulder-terrified-of-what-you-might-see as you read, check out House of Leaves. Extra content warning for this one, too, by the way.

The Reapers are the Angels by Alden Bell
I've said all I have to say about The Reapers are the Angels in a blog post from last year. It's a zombie novel, it's beautiful, and it's one of my all-time favorite books.

Check out any of these books this (or any subsequent) Halloween--you won't be disappointed. I love scary movies as much as the next guy, but there's something about reading a scary story that gets under my skin in ways the film medium can't do. I highly recommend it. Happy reading!

Oh, and for good measure, some honorable mentions:

Looking for more of a classic approach? Try the works of Edgar Allen Poe or H.P. Lovecraft.

Looking for a more modern take on zombies? Try Feed by Mira Grant.

More ghosts and demons? Try The Keeper by Sarah Langan.

Want to experience a YA horror/thriller novel? Residue by Steve Diamond.

Horror in comic/graphic novel form? Try From Hell by Alan Moore or The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman (which is actually quite different story-wise from the television series, and equally well-written).



*From House of Leaves xxii-xxiii:

This much I'm certain of: it doesn't happen immediately. You'll finish and that will be that, until a moment will come, maybe in a month, maybe a year, maybe even several years. You'll be sick of feeling troubled or deeply in love or quietly uncertain or even content for the first time in your life. It won't matter. Out of the blue, beyond any cause you can trace, you'll suddenly realize things are not how you perceived them to be at all. For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You'll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you'll realize it's always been shifting, like a glimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won't understand why or how. You'll have forgotten what granted you this awareness in the first place.

Old shelters--television, magazines, movies--won't protect you anymore. You might try scribbling in a journal, on a napkin, maybe even in the margins of this book. That's when you'll discover you no longer trust the very walls you always took for granted. Even the hallways you've walked a hundred times will feel longer, much longer, and the shadows, any shadow at all, will suddenly seem deeper, much, much, deeper.

You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You'll care only about the darkness and you'll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you're some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay. It will get so bad you'll be afraid to look away, you'll be afraid to sleep.

Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You'll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. and then for better or worse you'll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you've got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.

And then the nightmares will begin.

Yeah...read that on a dark night around Halloween and try not totally having a freak-out.

#FIF: Stephen King's Writing Advice

Time for another #FIF! In honor of my ongoing blog series on story structure, I figured it would be appropriate to mention one of the only works on my formative influences list that talks about craft: Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft.

Stephen King has gotten a lot of flak over the years. He's a hack, people say. A sellout, a genre lackey. You know what, though? All those people can suck it. He's one of the still-living writers I most respect, and not just because he's sold like a billion books or something. The dude's got chops. He's written (and published!) more than fifty novels, a half dozen nonfiction books, and over two hundred short stories. If that in and of itself isn't a stellar CV for a writer, then I don't know what is. King adheres to one of the most basic principles of writing that I know of, and that is to be prolific. So he's got that going for him, if nothing else.

And, let's be honest, of King's books, some of them really are awful. He's admits to as much himself in On Writing. But some of them are absolute gems: The Stand, Bag of Bones, and his Dark Tower series are all great reads. And his first novel, the iconic Carrie--perhaps my favorite I've read form him--is a tour de force in terror and storytelling. He won an O. Henry prize for his short story "The Man in the Black Suit," and Best American Short Stories 2007, which he edited, is one of my all time favorites of the Best American series.

But perhaps what I love most about Stephen King is his no-nonsense attitude and approach to the craft, and On Writing is full of such awesomeness. King approaches the topic with a warning, first referring readers to Elements of Style by Stunk and White (one of the single greatest tools a writer can have), and then stating that

This [On Writing] is a short book because most books about writing are filled with bullshit. Fiction writers, present company included, don't understand very much about what they do--not why it works when it's good, not why it doesn't when it's bad. I figured the shorter the book, the less the bullshit. (King, "Second Forward")

I've read a dozen or two books on writing and craft, and writers with this ability to zone out their pretentiousness when they talk about writing are rare. King merely states what has worked for him, along with some standard tools that every writer should learn to use, and that's about it.

The book itself is full of gems:

• King describes his muse, an old, cranky dude lurking in the shadows, smoking a cigar.
• Hearing about King's sale of Carrie, and his family's circumstances that led up to that event, is delightful, and more than a little motivational for aspiring folks like me.
• King talks about how there are four types of writers: the bad, the mediocre, the good, and the great. While you can't teach a bad writer to be mediocre, he says, and you can't teach a good writer to be great, you can teach mediocre writers to be good, and that's what On Writing is all about.
• King is also a notorious discovery writer in the purest sense of the term--he begins each story with an idea or a character, and lets the story take over from there. He doesn't believe in outlines or premeditated structure of any kind, and it shows in On Writing. While I'm not quite such a discovery purist as King, I'm much closer to that side of the spectrum than the outlining side. So hearing his perspective was helpful for me, especially when books on the craft seem to be predominantly written by outlining writers. (Although, if you're looking for other craft books by discovery writers, I suggest Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott--it's a distant but solid second for me as far as books on craft go.)

Also, I happen to have the audiobook version of On Writing, read by King himself, which was a delight to listen to. So, if you have the chance, check that out.

Long story short: Stephen King writes (and gives writing advice) like a boss. He's a great, talented, and prolific writer, and I've learned a lot of what I do directly from him. If you're a writer, and you're looking to learn, I suggest you go read/listen to On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft immediately.

Stephen King, Harry Potter, and The Series-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named

I've seen a quote, attributed to Stephen King, circulating the interwebs lately:

Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength, and doing what's right in the face of adversity.  Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend.

I really can't express how happy this quote makes me.  First of all, because Harry Potter is a legitimate work of literature and Twilight is not.  Okay, maybe the finer points of the term "legitimate work of literature" can be argued, but either way, I loved reading HP, and reading the ridiculous vampire saga was an awful experience all around*.  That fact alone speaks for itself.  But going into the finer points of King's viral quote, he really is getting at the heart of what makes Harry Potter so wonderful and Twilight, as popular as it may be, a very minuscule--nay, nanuscule--contribution to society.  The HP experience is something we (or at least I) can relate to, and beyond that it enlightens.  Based on the reactions I've seen of people reading the books and watching the movies, it even inspires people.  I'm pretty sure it has inspired me, anyway--to be a better person, to overcome difficulties, and to look inside myself and find strength I didn't think I had.  Cheesy?  Definitely.  True?  Absolutely.


But Twilight is relatable, too, you say.  And to that I say, yes, it is relatable.  Its relatable to teenage girls with a skewed view of love, and to disappointed middle-aged women.  Its relatable to people who think its a good think to have a controlling, manipulative partner, or to people who think that co-dependency is the best thing since sliced bread.  Harsh?  Definitely.  True?  Okay, maybe not as true as that stuff I've said about HP, but there's certainly a truthiness to it that hits home.  But really, what else does Twilight have to offer besides, as King so succinctly states, "how important it is to have a boyfriend"?  Its difficult for me to find anything beyond that, other than the extension that, once obtained, its equally important to retain that boyfriend at all costs.  ALL COSTS.  Does it teach anything about inner strength?  No, it teaches you to rely on the strength of others (in this case, boyfriends).  Does it inspire you to do the right thing in the face of adversity?  Not really, unless protecting your boyfriend, blindly and in every situation imaginable, counts as "the right thing."  It teaches girls to have unrealistic expectations for relationships.  It teaches guys...well maybe it doesn't teach guys anything (except, perhaps, how to be more manipulative and controlling than they already are--as if they needed more of that).  Its popular, sure.  People like it.  But as far as the value of the story goes, I'm sorely disappointed.**


But this quote is so great for another reason:  the fact that it was Stephen King who said it in the first place.  Stephen King, while he gets a bad rap in many literary circles for anything from his decision to write horror in the first place to the loads of money he has for doing it, is actually a rather brilliant writer with quite a solid head on his shoulders.  His book/memoir On Writing is easily the best how-to book on writing that I've read, and I've read a good dozen or so.  He's direct and to the point and doesn't bother with any of the crap that so many other writing books attempt to shove down your throat.  A friend of mine recently brought to my attention the edition of Best American Short Stories edited by King--easily the best collection I've read of said series.  The man knows his craft.  Sure, he's presented a number of legitimately bad books to the world.  But I challenge anyone to produce the number of works that King has and not come up with something awful.  And some of his books are quite intriguing, if not downright good literature (his Dark Tower series and The Stand particularly come to mind).  Anyway, to get to the point, I trust King's judgment, and agree with him wholeheartedly on the point he's making here.

Plus:  Stephen King likes Harry Potter.  How cool is that?

Since I'm on the subject, I went to the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, and it was fabulous.  I dressed up as a dementor, my wife was Bellatrix (nothing fancy, mostly with stuff we just found lying around the house), and we had a grand old time.  The movie was a fantastic end to the series.

So the moral of the story here is:  read Harry Potter if you haven't already.  And give Stephen King props for being awesome.  And . . . well, that other thing we talked about doesn't really deserve any more thought.

A dementor's kiss to you all! :-X

*  Although I will admit that I enjoy watching the Twilight films, if only for the fact that they provide such a massive amount of all things make-fun-able that I can't help but be entertained.


**  To say nothing about the writing, of course.  I won't get into the finer points of why Harry Potter is a solidly crafted and written story while Twilight is neither of those things.