Elevation - Stephen King

He may be the preeminent horror author of the 20th century, but Stephen King’s greatest skill as an author isn’t blood, gore, or terror, but his depictions of community. It’s easy to forget that The Stand includes an extended sequence about rebuilding Boulder from the ruins of the superflu-fueled apocalypse, and that these scenes are among the strongest in the book. I was reminded of this while rereading Hearts in Atlantis, in which the first two stories contain long passages of the characters simply existing, passages that in the hands of lesser authors would feel like padding or wheel-spinning. There is a coziness to King’s writing that you might not expect, but is essential to his stories’ power. He writes people you care about, and seeing their lives in such intimate detail is key to making you care about them.

I thought about this a lot while reading Elevation, which is essentially nothing but coziness. There’s some interpersonal conflict and a supernatural phenomenon affecting the main character, but none of it feels primed to draw blood. Even the character’s mysterious condition that renders him constantly lighter without appearing to lose weight feels to him more like a curiosity than an impending doom. If anything, it inspires him to be a better man, and to conjure better angels from the small circle of friends his condition draws around him.

Elevation is a warm cup of tea of a book, a momentary pause to be enjoyed in one reflective sitting. Some of the political elements flirted with the corny, but King has enough skill and experience to flesh out his characters beyond caricature, and to temper didacticism with honest depictions of human behaviour. The ending retains the courage of its convictions, and reminded me of the Baron in the Trees.

Needful Things - Stephen King

I’ve been half-finishing a lot of books lately, which is why there’s such a large gap between entries. My choices weren’t bad books, but were a little too demanding for my frame of mind. I needed something I could sink into easily, and for that Stephen King is always a good choice.

I last read Needful Things in high school, so my memory of it was spotty. A few brief scenes remained clear to me—the fatal duel between Nettie and Wilma, the thing in Polly’s azka, and the encounter between Sherriff Pangborn and Leland Gaunt—but beyond that I could really only recall the general plot: a new store called Needful Things opens in Castle Rock, selling objects that entrance the townsfolk. I’d forgotten about the pranks, which Gaunt extracts from buyers as an additional payment in an effort to play the townspeople off of each other and stoke ill feeling.

It’s a classic King story, with a compelling villain, strong flawed heroes, and an undergirding magic that is never fully explained but feels earned by the premise of the story. It also includes a fair bit of what I think is King’s strongest trait: his ability to conjure a deep sense of community between his characters. His books never drag, even when they spend whole chapters on seemingly prosaic matters unrelated to the main story. His characters feel real, and it’s always a pleasure to spend time with them, even the unpleasant ones. There is something entrancingly human about them.

Picking up Needful Things got me in a mind to reread some of the other Castle Rock stories, as that particular intertextual universe of his hasn’t drawn me back as often as some others (the Dark Tower, for one). There’s something homey a Stephen King book (an odd thing, maybe, considering he’s known as a horror writer). It’s comforting to know I can always come back to them.