The art of Stephen King

The Dark,Tower, vol.7, Wikipedia

***

A friend of mine once told me that she read S. King's The Stand every year. That made quite an impression. Lately her comment has come back to me more than once, so I decided to take a look, even though I don't really care for horror stories. It seems to me there's enough horror in the world as it is, but after reading Neil Gaiman's American Gods, which I really liked, I was game.

The Stand is a big book, both in length and theme. And there were times I had to just put it down, because it was too intense. Sometimes I had to brace myself to read sections I knew would be dark and/or violent. Still, it had a relatively happy ending--the good guys survived (mostly). It had some truly interesting characters. The Dark Man, aka Randall Flagg, is pretty unforgettable.

One of the most interesting characters was the writer, Stephen King, himself. It's also of interest that  "His books have sold more than 350 million copies." (Wikipedia).

Now I'm planning to read The Dark Tower, a work Mr. King considers his Magnum Opus. In preparation I bought The Complete Concordance by Robin Furth, knowing from my experience with The Stand that the details and characters in 7 volumes would be a challenge to track. In the foreword to the Compendium, King describes the process of writing a 7-volume work that spans 32 years in 'real' time, comparing it to visiting and revisiting a department store. The analogy goes like this--

Will I tell you what happens to a story when it lies fallow over such long periods of time? Will you hear? Then close your eyes and imagine a vast department store, all on one level, lit by great racks of overhead fluorescent lights. You see every kind of item under those lights—underwear and automotive parts, TVs and DVDs, shoes and stationery and bikes for the kiddies, blue jeans and mattresses (Oh look, Herbie, they’re on sale, 40% off!), cosmetics and air rifles, party dresses and picnic gear.

Now imagine the lights failing, one by one. The huge space grows darker; the goods so temptingly arrayed grow dimmer and harder to see. Finally you can hardly see your hand in front of your face.

That was the kind of room I came to when it was finally time to write The Drawing of the Three, except then the store wasn’t so big— the first volume was less than three hundred pages long, so it was actually more of a mom n pop operation, do ya not see it. I was able to light it again simply by reading over the first volume and having a few ideas (I also resurrected a few old ones; I hadn’t entirely forgotten what was in those handwritten pages, or the purpose of the tale).

Coming back to write the third volume (The Waste Lands) in the mid-eighties was harder, because the store was once again almost completely dark, and now it was much bigger. Once again I began by reading over what I’d written, taking copious notes, and filling paperback copies of the first two books with yellow highlighted passages and pink Post-it notes.

Another four years passed . . . or perhaps this time it was six. The store had once again grown dark, and by the time I was ready to write Wizard and Glass, it was bigger than ever. This time I wanted to add a whole new annex (call it Roland’s Past instead of the Bridal Shoppe). Once again out came the books— three of them, this time— the yellow highlighter, and the packets of Post-it notes.

(Furth, Robin (2012-11-06). Stephen King's The Dark Tower: The Complete Concordance, Revised and Updated (Kindle Location 52). Scribner. Kindle Edition.)

I wonder what repeatedly drew him back to working on this mammoth project. Did its state of unfinished itch? Did he dream about it? Did Roland haunt him? You may find an answer at the website.

It should be quite an adventure.

-- Marge

 

DIY: Storytelling

John Howe, Beowulf battles Grendl, john-howe.com

***

In the immortal words of Rod Serling "picture, if you will," a storyteller silhouetted by the great fireplace of an ancient hall. His audience leans forward with rapt attention as he tells the battle of Beowulf and Grendl. He knows that his listeners have heard the story before and will call him on any deviation from the story as they know it. He also knows that his duty is to pass down the accumulated wisdom of his people. Beowulf's adventures are some of the few mythic tales that have been committed to the written page; other tales were passed down by word-of-mouth exclusively.

It's different today. We have books, films, recordings, and even collections of ancient manuscripts. Most of us can read. And we have Twitter, Instagram, and email. Yet storytelling continues, although its form and intent have to a large extent changed. There is literature and recounting personal experience. Not to mention fabrication and corporate spin (see new rhetorics).

Now each of us is a storyteller, or potential storyteller. An article in Time Magazine by James Murdoch discusses our new roles in Storytelling—both fiction and nonfiction, for good and for ill—will continue to define the world. In his article he says,

In 2016 and beyond, those who wish to create a better world will have to make storytelling the center of their efforts, not an afterthought. It’s clear that economic and military might will always be the key levers of statecraft. But more than ever before, swift and dramatic change is being driven by powerful narratives that crisscross the world at the speed of a click or a swipe.

Underlying this change is the empowerment of ordinary people: citizens, mothers, sons, all of us. Once, consumers had limited points of access to information and content, and powerful state and commercial institutions guarded the gates. That time is over.

In 2016, from Lhasa to Tehran to Odessa, people will continue to seek and find forbidden things. In this connected world, the game is up. Censors cannot hide, and their victims have decided, and are empowered, not to take it anymore. Italo Calvino had it right in If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler: “In the decree that forbids reading there will be still read something of the truth that we would wish never to be read.”

-- Marge