Monday, August 4, 2014

A very short review of a very long book Duma Key by Stephen King

8/4/14 22:24

Henry Miller said if he could not get into a book within the first fifty pages, he’d put it down and pick up another.  I can relate to that, but what about reading the first 400 plus pages of a 600 plus and putting it down, you have to question my sanity.  I would.  I was fed up with the monster.  The heft in my hands built tight muscles, veins popped out near my knuckles.  The heft is called Duma Key by Stephen King.  I like King.  He gets me sucked into his books and for most of them I will go with the flow.  This beast was a little too much of the erection and less of the substance.  Look how big my book is!  Edgar Freemantle lost his arm in a terrible accident, subsequently suffers from memory and verbal dysfunction, is divorced, moves to the gulf coast of Florida, limps on the beach, befriends a lawyer and becomes an artist.  Not just any artist, but a master.  His works captivate.  They also exhibit a possessed spirit.  So, I started the book back in the winter and watched it gather dust on the floor near our bed and finally picked it up and finished it.  I blame the book on our North Carolina transplant and one of the joys in my life, Danielle Zahm, who I thought was visiting us this summer.  Which was the motivator to finish the book.  Years ago she lent me the wide text.  She told me, you have to read this…it’s a great book.  So I read and read and…I felt like I was watching one of those lame comedians David Letterman would bring out on his show from time to time.  You’d wait for the punch line.  You watch the anguish face on the screen.  They are suffering.  The comedian beats himself up in his wretched mind.  You’re on TV now.  Big break.  Big.  I think King has sold a few too many books and sucked us into his name.  I will continue to buy his books.  I will be a loyal reader.  But this book could have been half the size and made an impact, instead it is lost in his library I add to.  Before I put it away, I have to tell you, I was the one who waited for the gripping, nail biting, "oh no he didn't," and the twisting...he did it. The feeling that this master can create horror like no other.  You wait and you receive.  The last quarter of this book flowed and hurled with an incredible kick.  The scene close to the end when Edgar is walking with his daughter on the beach captured such love.   Wait for it.  Wait for it.  Done.  Now I can pick up and read Nick Tosches...


Thank you for reading this.

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