I bought this book just on Tuesday, and finished it today. Very fast, considering that I mostly read the book only while traveling. It was no understatement when I commented to my good friend that Lisey’s Story was one of the best, if not the best, novel by Stephen King.
I’ve always been a fan of Stephen King. Starting from It and The Stand, I’ve always kept a close watch on his releases. I’ve read both books at least 5 times, and have tried to read every book he’s released, including his epic 7-book Dark Tower series. It’s fascinating how he’s able to weave a myriad of stories together into one huge alternate universe, and if I ever were to be a writer, he’d be the standard I’ll aim for.
I’ve always wondered where he got his ideas from. In Lisey’s Story, he gives us a sneak peek into his mind: The Stephen King universe. Terrifying yet hauntingly beautiful, it struck a chord with me: How the story world one envisages in every plot is just a curtain away. It’s a trademark of Stephen King: Like a modern fable, he details how the traditional forces of evil are overcome by the universal childhood belief in love, companionship and faith.
I always remembered how I used to cower under the blanket, thinking that there was always a bogeyman waiting at the foot of the bed, waiting ever so patiently for my feet to peek out of the bed, then dragging me down, down, down into the depths of hell. The bogeyman, who always took the shape of my dad, but with black holes instead of eyes. I remember being afraid of the dark too, how, in that instant of darkness when I press the light switch, but the light is not switched on yet; I’d have this horrible sinking feeling that the light would never turn on, and that sooner or later that thing in the dark will come to get me.
In other words, the over-fertile imagination, like a cup nearly filled with water, threatens to spill over into reality. As I grow older, these fears subsided. Yet, there are times when I wake up and instinctively tuck my legs in, there are nights where I take my handphone into the toilet with me, in case the lights go out on me, there are nights where I dare not turn over for fear of the unknown. The other universe is but a curtain-pull away, and one will never know when he/she consciously or unconsciously flips over.
Curtains and anchors are two themes in this fascinating novel. Unlike his earlier novels, which sometimes were outright violent, Kind has since toned down and matured; but the horror doesn’t diminish. As what someone I discussed with said: The horror in his novels are increasingly psychological rather than physical.
Perhaps the book seems the best to me because it appeals to the writer-child in me, the Nicholas back then who always sought refuge in that world of his to run from solitude and silence, where the bogeymen were always held in check, and where good always triumphed over evil, despite the cost. All his books have, but this book, in essence, is a description of the terrifying lives most authors go through, and this book has really opened old memories which i’ve kept locked away; scenes from the past which kept flashing by as I read the book.
In a way, during the period where I read the book, I was once more able to seek refuge in that universe I used to spend so much time in, away from the complexities and often harsh realities of real life. The story will end, and so will Stephen King die one day. I dread the day he passes on, but until then, I’ll keep reading his novels, and love every one of them; especially Lisey’s Story.