by Stephen King
I used to read a lot of Stephen King. (Being a bookish kid with a fondness for the creepy growing up in Maine, it would have been almost impossible not to read King.) Over time I drifted away from his books, but I’ve been been slowly coming back: I read The Colorado Kid on a vacation, and I thought On Writing brought King more of the credit he deserves as a writer.
This book contains four long stories — depending on how you define them, novellas. That’s one good thing being a best-selling author can do: no one tells Stephen King that short stories don’t sell, that novellas don’t have a market. It’s a form that King has always done well, and here he doesn’t disappoint. Each has a dark twist, each has its monsters (which in this case are the easiest and hardest to understand kind: people) and each reflects its own sense of justice.
I read this book on vacation. Depending on your tolerance for the dark, you might want to wait until you are on a sunny beach… or maybe curled up with a blanket, by a fireplace will work for you, thought it does get dark earlier and earlier this time of year. With King, you know there’s always dark somewhere. Somewhere close by.