Saturday, August 9, 2014

Sorry Is the Kool-Aid Of Human Emotions: A Look At Stephen King's CARRIE [1974]

It's pretty common knowledge by now that Carrie, Stephen King's first-published novel, is not the novel he wrote first -- that honor goes to The Long Walk (or maybe Getting It On). In fact, King wrote five novels and numerous short stories before he even began the now-famous story of Carrie White and her telekinetic revenge on her classmates at the senior prom -- so the guy definitely had some experience at the craft. Still, this was only his sixth novel, and King was still young, so the book definitely doesn't feel as "polished" as, say, Doctor Sleep or Duma Key. It's raw, crass, vulgar, blunt, and full of a young author's angst, but that's not bad. Not bad at all.

 First Edition Hardcover


I had already read Carrie two or three times before my last re-read, but it's such a short (and rich) story that I didn't mind spending a rainy Sunday with it. I meant to read it back in April in celebration of its fortieth birthday, but prom and graduation and vacations and work came up, so I didn't get around to it until a couple of weeks ago. Boy, am I glad I finally did read it. While I always pick up on new things with re-reads of any given King story, stuff really jumped out at me from this one. I had always perceived the sad tale of Carrie White as a tragedy, but not really horrific. Brian de Palma's outstanding movie adaptation? THAT is horror. But the novel? Eh. I never really thought of King as a "horror writer" until his second book, 'Salem's Lot, but I can definitely say my fourth re-read made me realize how horrific this book really is. 

"Nobody was really surprised when it happened, not really, not on the subconscious level where savage things grow. On the surface, all the girls were shocked, thrilled, ashamed, or simply glad that the White bitch had taken it in the mouth again. Some of them might have also claimed surprise, but of course their claim was untrue. Carrie had been going to school with some of them since first grade, and this had been building since that time, building slowly and immutably, in accordance with all the laws that govern human nature, building with all the steadiness of a chain reaction approaching critical mass. What none of them knew, of course, was that Carrie White was telekinetic."

King neatly sets up in the first page of the book what has come to be known as "the period scene" -- i.e., Carrie White getting her first period in the locker room shower after gym class, not knowing what's happening to her due to her growing up with a hyper-religious mother (more on that later), and the other girls throwing tampons at her and chanting "Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!" I'm not a female, nor have I ever been one, but I can imagine this wouldn't be fun for any girl. It's this event that sets the rest of this short novel in motion -- the girls who did this are punished with detention, and Chris Hargensen, one of our main antagonists, is bent on revenge. Sue Snell feels bad about participating in the tampon-throwing and convinces her boyfriend, popular jock Tommy Ross, to invite Carrie to the upcoming senior prom as a way of getting the unpopular girl to become "a part of things." Carrie's mother, Margaret White (a religious nut in every sense of the word -- she locks Carrie in her prayer closet for hours on end with no food or water, physically harms her daughter and herself, tries to kill Carrie in the end because she is convinced her daughter is a witch, etc) loses it when the school calls and tells her about the period incident, thus pushing Carrie farther away and into herself. As for Ms. White, our main character? With her period comes the full maturation of her telekinetic powers, which is something she's always had, but she can now control it; use it as a weapon whenever she pleases. 

 Vintage paperback cover
The plot of this story is one of King's simplest -- socially awkward girl gets her first period later than normal in the most humiliating setting. Other girls tease her and get detention. Most are okay with it, but one girl isn't. She, her idiot greaser boyfriend, and his friends plot revenge and succeed on the night of the senior prom. Socially awkward girl, now in full control of her telekinetic powers, rains destruction down on the school and surrounding town, killing innumerable people -- some purposely, some accidentally. Those who are left eventually leave, and Chamberlain, ME., where this all takes place, eventually becomes a ghost-town haunted by the tragedy of prom night. 

Pretty simple, right? 

What makes this novel sing is the believable characters and the utter emotion that drips from every page. Margaret is scary because I've met folks like her - crazies who can't get out of the Old Testament. Sue's regret feels real, and while her making Tommy ask Carrie to the prom is a little questionable, it works. But our title character works the best, of course -- my heart ached for Carrie White. She's just an outcast who would do anything to fit in, and when she finally thinks she has . . . another prank is pulled on her. While Carrie brings the destruction, she is anything but the villain here. The ones who constantly picked on her and teased her are the villains -- they did more damage than Carrie ever could. 

"This is the girl they keep calling a monster. I want you to keep that firmly in mind. The girl who could be satisfied with a hamburger and a dime root beer after her only school dance so her momma wouldn't be worried . . ."
- Carrie

 Another thing that makes this the success it is is King's use of various sources and perspectives to tell the story, e.g. traditional narrative, Sue Snell's autobiography, various newspaper articles, police reports, scientific studies. This technique helps build the tension and delay the gratification of the climax until the last possible moment, which is something that probably wouldn't work as well in something like The Stand or The Tommyknockers but works splendidly here. Of course, King probably got the idea from Stoker's Dracula, but he makes it his own. 

Carrie author photo

Overall, I really think this story is a gem. Sure, it's sort of obvious that King was relatively new to the game at the time, but that's only because his prose isn't quite as polished as it would become, and a few of the characters are a little wonky. It's a heck of a ride though, and it's one that makes me really burn (pun intended) through the pages to get to the end, even though I've read it multiple times now. It's a classic story that is really applicable to any time period because of its simple premise: bullying and the problems that can arise from it. No, telekinesis is not real (or is it?!? Ooooh!), but school shootings are. Fist-fights are real. Slander on social media is real. Gossip is real. These are problems that plague us here in 2014 more than it ever has before, and are we, as individuals, helping or hurting? Are we the problem or solution? In some ways, Carrie is a little outdated, but it still feels genuine and real, like the best of SK's work. It made me look in the mirror, so to speak, several times during my re-read, and for that I say it's a darn good novel. 

  “People don't get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don't stop pulling the wings off flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it.” 
- Carrie 





 




"Carly's Instagram Addiction"

"Carly's Instagram Addiction" 

Carly was a tiny girl from a suburban neighborhood near Los Angeles. She was single and rarely had to buy her own dinner or drinks at the bars she frequented; she was able to get by on her good looks. Her thick blonde hair, tanned skin, and toned body made her a hit with the male (and, occasionally, female) population, even if she was a bit of a California cliché. 
One might think she was a typically brainless California girl, but the opposite was in fact true - she was studying for her Ph.D. in Child Psychology at UCLA and was in fact near the top of her class. Her circle of friends was of healthy size, but it wasn't as large as it could be due to Carly preferring to associate herself with people she could relate with on a personal level. 
Also, most people found her Instagram addiction annoying. 

She posted pictures, on average, seven times a day. Sometimes she was busy with school-work or her part-time job at Panera Bread and only got to upload a picture or two, but she always found time to post SOMETHING. If the weather was particular fine that day, she would post a picture of the sky or maybe a selfie with the sun shining behind her. She found she preferred X-Pro II for nature pics and earlybird for selfies. Sometimes she would go crazy and use a Brannan or Walden, but that was rare. She'd hate to throw off her followers. 

If she had a lot of homework, her Instagram followers would see the cover of a textbook or her homework papers strewn about to convey the message that she had so much to do that she couldn't help but throw her stuff EVERYWHERE even though everyone knew she had placed each and every sheet of paper deliberately, methodically. 
That's just the way things worked. Everyone did it. 

If work was going particular badly, she might post a selfie in her Panera hat doing a thumbs-down and a sad face. If work was going well, it'd be a thumbs up. Occasionally, she'd post a picture of a particularly delicious-looking piece of bread or maybe a customer that particular stuck out (she had even snuck a picture of one guy that had been at her register and made him her #ManCandyMonday). She couldn't do it when her boss was around - she might get in trouble for cell phone use. The rules were a bit of a drag. Some of her co-workers had noticed her constantly taking pictures and updating Instagram and had joked around with her, saying things like "I don't get why you have to post pictures online all the time! Nothing's that interesting!" and "I don't think you could go a day without using Insta." 
No, she didn't think she could. 

Her followers wavered somewhat, and it bothered her. She noticed she didn't get as many likes on pictures of books as she did on, say, pictures from her trips to the ocean (posted sparingly, of course). Cats got more likes on Fridays than Sundays. Dogs got more likes on Mondays than Thursdays. Selfies tended to earn her enough likes if she could get in the right light and pick the perfect filter; quotes screenshot from Tumblr did well enough if hash-tagged. She didn't actually use Tumblr, she just got those pictures from Google Images. 
Coffee was a bit of a wild-horse: it could yield varying amounts of likes. Some (including Carly) thought it was old hat; only those BEGGING for likes and comments posted coffee, and she was above that. However, cups of coffee from Starbucks earned more likes than any other coffeeshop, but that was common knowledge. If taken well enough, coffee pics could provide, on average, 2-4 new followers, but was it really worth it? Those followers would be expecting the same pics that everyone else posted and Carly was too good at the art of Insta for that. She had too much style. 

She hoped to reach a thousand followers, because more followers = more likes. It's simple mathematics. For every twenty followers, she could count on a like, maybe two. Not a whole lot, but it works out okay. A picture posted by Carly that ended up getting less than 20 likes was promptly deleted. Her follower count was sometimes 981, sometimes it was 989. One time it was 976 and she almost died! The only time she had been this embarrassed was when she had accidentally confused #TransformationTuesday and #ThrowbackThursday. 
She laid down on her bed in her dorm and didn't come out until her roommate made her. She knew she had been ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. 

A few times, friends had even tried talking to her about her addiction, but it did no good - Instagram took up too much of Carly's life, as it did her friends'. They could tell her the dangers of addiction all they wanted, but it would be hypocritical - they obsessed over filters and follower count just like their friend did. 

These pitiful little interventions of sorts were usually followed by a group selfie, which was okay. Group selfies of pretty girls get a lot of likes - it's a fact of life.

"Procrastination"

"The Only Regret Is Not Having Enough Time" 

I meant to hang up a picture on my wall today, but I didn't get around to it. 
I bought the picture at a used bookstore that sells more than books - it sells music, movies, video games, everything.
I got the picture at a good price because it has a small scratch in it. It's holographic, so those things matter. It's so small that most people won't even notice it when it's on my wall. The scratch, that is. 
I wish I could have gotten around to hanging it, but stuff came up. I woke up and took a shower, and then I made myself breakfast. I live alone now because I just moved out of my folks' home, and I like to enjoy the silence. 
My parents are overbearing. 
I bet my mom would hang up the photo if I asked, but I won't. 

My breakfast was followed by a service at a church I don't even like anymore, but I go out of guilt. I was raised in a religious home and what if God really DOES record when we don't show up to his house? What then? 

I got home and ripped off my tie and settled into my favorite chair with a thick sandwich and Netflix. I watched the entire last season of The Office because that's been my thing lately. Nellie finally won me over with "Couples Discount" - she bothered me during season 8, but season 9 was really her thing, I guess. 

I also read a bit, but not as much as I'd like. I went back to the television after a bit, which disappoints me. Watching too much television can rot my brain - what, haven't you ever read Dear Mr. Henshaw

I made dinner and finished eating. It was okay, but it wasn't great. I might go out tomorrow on my lunch break - I haven't done that in a while, and there's a new Chinese buffet that just opened two blocks from my office. Sounds like a plan! 

I looked at the picture, sat down, and wrote this instead. Phooey on me. I've really been digging for short story ideas and this is the best I can come up with?

I'm ashamed.

Reader, whoever you are, I might have given you a bad impression of myself, but I'm lazy mostly only on Sundays. Who knows? I might hang that picture tomorrow, but I honestly kinda doubt it. I guess I better go give my mom a call. 

"A Fatherly Hand"

Jacobs was chopping wood on the edge of the forest like in the old days, the days that were almost forty years gone. 

He was at his own place, on his own land. He had done more than his old man had, the pain. His father - the man of bruised backs and black eyes and fractured arms and mood swings and shoves down the stair-case and lies lies LIES and constant put-downs - his FATHER . . . The mean bastard was probably rolling around in his grave at all Jacobs had accomplished. 

Jacobs heard a soft voice latent with anger from just within the trees, and immediately knew who his visitor was. He had been expecting this ever since his father's death - the death that couldn't be pinned on Jacobs in any way. 

The voice got louder, multiplied. The crunching of leaves. The whisper of foot-steps on the forest floor. 

Jacobs raised his chopping axe and laughed. Somewhere nearby, a bird took flight.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: The Beginning

I'm a really inconsistent blogger.

Seriously -- I'd love to blog more, but there are several reasons as to why that doesn't happen: a.) Work 2.) Class b.) Lack of motivation q.) Preferring writing fiction to blog-posts 5.) Feeling like I can't put into words what I would like to say anyway, and 3.) I'm not good at explaining my feelings, at least about books -- I prefer the joy of experiencing a good story to taking notes and trying to write a decent blog entry on my analysis of said story.

I've decided that's pretty darn dumb -- the last reason, that is. I think if I relax and let the words flow, all will be okay. I'm off work until Wednesday the 20th, so hopefully I'll be able to get some decent blogging in. So let's get this show on the road! 

I've been thinking about Stephen King -- even more than usual. I haven't really been reading his work as much lately aside from Mr. Mercedes and a re-read of Carrie. That's not me saying I'm tired of reading him (I'm not) -- I've just been branching out a bit. I've finally given his pal Peter Straub a chance and I NEED to cover one of his books here soon -- he's phenomenal! Still, I've been thinking about Stephen King a lot lately, namely his short stories. I've been meaning to re-read all of the collections, but I haven't actually done it yet. His short story collections, like almost everything else he's written over the years, are extraordinary. However, the short form requires getting a little used to. King's characters are so brilliantly drawn that when a story ends after only 30 or 40 pages, one can get a little disappointed, but, alas, a short story is just that -- short. Anyway, the topic of a book discussion club came up on the Stephen King boards I'm a member of, and the first book we'll be discussing is King's 1993 collection of stories, Nightmares & Dreamscapes.

 American hardcover edition

I'm not yet sure if we will be discussing a story a day or what, but tonight's discussion is King's introduction to the book and the first story, "Dolan's Cadillac." I'm pretty excited about the book club because, if I'm being honest, this is the only SK story collection I haven't read cover to cover. I've read maybe 2/3 of the stories, the introduction, and bits of a couple of the other stories. I've been meaning to read this collection in full for ages, but I've always had other books that demanded my attention too, so this one has always been on the back-burner. I suppose now's a good a time as any to finally read the entire thing, right? 

I have decided that with each story, I'll contribute to the SK board as well as post my more in-depth thoughts here. I think I'll have a lot to say about some of the stories, and maybe not so much to say about others.  Some stories might not even get a blog entry from me, because, if I remember correctly, there are a couple of clunkers in this collection. My opinion of those might change with a re-read and heck, maybe writing about those will be fun, too! After I've written about all the stories that I'm going to cover, I might write up a ranking of the stories, or an "in conclusion..." sort of thing. Who knows. Let's play it by ear, shall we? 

Nightmares & Dreamscapes author photo

I'm going to write about what I remember of the stories I've actually read. This part is mostly for me because these feelings are probably going to change after the upcoming read, but it'll be fun to look back and see how I felt before vs. how I felt after. 

From what I remember, "Dolan's Cadillac" is a good opener (but it's no "The Mist") -- it's very creepy albeit a bit over-long. Still, King writes revenge stories well. 
"The End of the Whole Mess" was really neat and way better than I expected it to be. The ending is rather sad, the relationship between the brothers is realistic, and the sci-fi aspect of the story is fascinating.
"Suffer the Little Children" is a story from early in King's career. It's quite possibly my favorite in the collection simply because it's so ballsy, paranoid, and horrifying -- just like the best of King's works. "Popsy" didn't really have any impact on me, but it was a decent way to pass the time, I suppose. 
I don't really remember much of "Chattery Teeth" except some guy (probably the protagonist?)  getting in a car-wreck. Wait, is he a truck-driver, or am I thinking of another story altogether? "Dedication" is, from what I remember, one of the best in the collection -- dedicated, hard-working mother and a writer. Two of the things King is best at writing! This is one is also delightfully disgusting, so I must admit I'm really looking forward to re-reading this story. 
"The Moving Finger" is a story that seems to get a bad wrap but I really enjoyed it. It's really paranoid (can't ya tell I love that in SK's writing?), but sadly I don't really remember too much about this one either except a guy peeing in his kitchen sink. 
"You Know They Got a Hell of a Band" is like "Children of the Corn" on a lot of pot. This one was fun to read, but that's probably because I'm a nut for classic rock. 
"The House on Maple Street" is one I simply don't have much to say about (yet) -- it's just a good story. I remember it being really solid, but that's all. 

....wow, I thought I had read more than that! Looks like I'll be experiencing a bunch of "new" King stories, which is A-okay with me. I'm off to finish Peter Straub's Julia and then re-read "Dolan's Cadillac." See you guys soon!