The Best for Last. Book #63

I read my first Stephen King book back in 1983. It was Christine and I was instantly hooked. Got everything I could of his from the college and local libraries. Devoured books about him, even looked for the Bachman's. It was an intense period of reading. He was, and still is, quite the prolific writer. There was a back catalog to catch up on.

But when the Tommyknockers came out in 1987, something had changed. Authors go through peaks, valleys, they write bad books. After that book came out, I believe his creativity declined, noticeably. I read he was doing some serious coke at the time, which would explain a lot. Yet, even after he got off of it, with great difficulty I understand, the quality of his writing had not returned. I still read his work, but no longer was interested in getting it when it was released. What I did read seemed uninspired. The plots were tired. The thrill ride had no thrills, frights, or fun.

Then on my 34th birthday and the night of no goal, King was hit by a car and suffered serious injuries. After that there was some serious rehab, talk of retirement and I wondered if he'd ever return to anything close to form.



He has.

I have to admit to being skeptical when Under the Dome was released. I've heard the term 'King's best in years' many times and the results were unsatisfactory. The 1,074 pages were also an obstacle. Could this book have used some more editing, (yes) some character depth (yes) and culling of plot? (also yes)

The book's title and cover say it all. A small town in Maine is suddenly covered by a transparent dome. Things happen.

From page one King puts the accelerator to the floor and you are in the passenger seat, going "Whooooo!" right along with him. Then he presses down, harder, and you're both going "Whooooo!"

All this while Warren Zevon's 'Play it All Night Long' is blasting out of the speakers.

King kills a lot of people, blows a lot of things up and causes a lot of mayhem - and he's having a ball doing it. Not since the first few pages of The Cell has King enjoyed creating such a disaster. This time he sustains it for the entire length of this massive book. From the opening scenes of a woodchuck's point of view to the final, inevitable explosions, I was held to the page. I can't believe I'm writing this, but I did not want it to end.

There's a lot of political allegory, an exposure of the cruelty of children, a smack down of self righteous Christians and, I think, a bit of a global warming statement within the fury of this novel. Do not be put off by its length.

The book is far from flawless. The editing could have stood a sharper red pen. Some of the dialogue was implausible and groan inducing. The conclusion reminded me of an episode of Star Trek and seemed a bit forced, but I will not allow myself to be mad at it. If this book was written in the fifties, it would be sold in dime stores, waiting for aspiring authors to find on a wire rack. In another world, King would be earning a penny a word, and deserving every cent. You fly through the thinness and savor the meaty parts of this book, and there are many, and they are worth it.

I admit to writing Stephen King off, that he would not be capable of writing a book with the intensity and thrills of his earlier work. After finishing Under the Dome I'm here telling you that I was wrong. He's back. Pass the crow.