Saturday, 21 October 2017 10:17 pm
Book Review: The Gunslinger
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deckardcanineMy previous Stephen King experience was limited to one novel, 'Salem's Lot; one short story, The Man in the Black Suit; a couple forewords; and eight film adaptations. It seemed appropriate to read more of him in the month leading up to Halloween. I'd vaguely heard of his Dark Tower series before the movie this year, particularly the title character of the first volume, so I decided to start there.
My first warning was from King himself in the introduction/foreword combo. He had been quite young when he wrote TG, taking advice from seminars he later learned to disregard. For this edition, he patched it up in a few places but admits it still has a very different style from the rest of the series. He's even made a habit of apologizing for TG and assuring readers that the next volume is much better.
I took this warning with a grain of salt. After all, he didn't think much of SL either, and derivative though it may be, it gave me real chills. So I continued from the foreword, hardly suspecting that I would like that part best.
If the third-person limited narration is any indication, the protagonist, Roland Deschain, rarely thinks of himself as anything but "the gunslinger." While his style is loosely based on the Old West, he lives in a post-apocalyptic world. His quest: to track down a wizard known as "the man in black" (who answers to Walter O'Dim among other names), possibly to kill him but certainly to get info about the mysterious tower that has something to do with what's happening all over. As Roland crosses the desert in pursuit, he befriends an equally lone boy named Jake, who somehow carries memories from modern New York City. This friendship is not entirely advantageous in the face of adversity.
To my mind, the first difficulty was determining the genre(s). It's really a bunch shoved together -- perhaps too many to list. Do I give King credit for innovation? Nah. It's typical of an ambitious young writer, combining what he likes (shades of J.R.R. Tolkien and Sergio Leone, for instance) without any regard for how well the components really work together.
But figuring that much out did little to aid my reading comprehension. King had been drunk on what I'd call obscurantism in those days. I kept coming up with more questions. How did Roland ever learn about Walter? What had Walter done, and what was he doing now? How did the apocalypse happen, and how could it have yielded precisely this world? Were there really demons as well as mutants in this future, or was that just superstition? Was it even the future per se? (Roland had no knowledge of automobiles, for example.) The list goes on, and precious few answers came in this volume.
Usually when I read a book, I picture it as a live-action movie. This came out more like a set of incomplete sketches in low-grade animation. It's that low on definite detail. King wanted so badly to capture the vastness of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly but didn't realize that vastness without substance is just so much emptiness.
Another problem is that it's hard to relate to any major character. Roland's emotions do not work quite like mine. We briefly see him described as a "matricide" and never learn the circumstances for that, but given what we know of his brutal upbringing, it may have been a rite of passage. While he does have a heart, he lacks the charisma of the Man with No Name. I fail to see the reader appeal.
Other characters tend to be down and out or brainwashed. Oddly enough, while Roland kills a lot of people (packing more ammo than I expected), Walter's more about reviving people. He actually wants Roland to catch up to him eventually. But he's still decidedly more villain than hero with his seemingly random acts of cruelty for laughs. Must come of consorting with demonic forces. Wouldn't you know that the only happy guy in a dystopia is crazy and/or evil.
Not helping at all is the tendency toward strange language. It doesn't happen all the time, but sometimes someone, especially Roland, will use either a made-up word or an alien turn of phrase that reminds us this is so not the Old West. King even had the gall to swipe "silflay" from Watership Down. This edition includes no glossary, so you have to hope that your attention to context suffices.
The action consists of mostly trudging along with little social life, punctuated by a handful of intense action scenes that leave little to the imagination for how "the gunslinger" will come out alive. It tries for tragedy far more than comic relief. But by the time the biggest tragedy came along, I had simply stopped caring. Now I know why film critic Kristen Page-Kirby said that apathy is even worse than boredom: The latter goes away more easily. (Plus, even the most artsy-fartsy, anti-populist, deliberately tedious creator wants you to care in some way.)
Comic book reviewer Lewis Lovhaug, a.k.a. Linkara, once asked why post-apocalyptic stories are so dull in spite of their action. My theory: low stakes. Once the worst has happened, what remains doesn't matter much. "Oh, a few people are struggling to survive? Should they even bother?" Some stories rise above that limitation; this one comes up hard against it.
You may have noticed that I normally like to temper my criticism, even for some of my least favorite works, partly in honesty and partly to avoid bumming out the people who disagree with me. Alas, I am hard pressed to find anything to like about TG. King's request that I continue anyway reminds me of a line from Ed Wood: "Worst film you ever saw? Well, my next one will be better. ...Hello?"
Now you may wonder why I finished the book. Well, it's pretty short for my fare, and by the time I decided it wasn't going to get good, I didn't have far to go. You might say I was like Roland, trudging across the desert for answers, knowing full well that there was no guarantee I'd like what followed.
I have now started The World According to Star Wars by Cass R. Sunstein. If nothing else, it's educational.
My first warning was from King himself in the introduction/foreword combo. He had been quite young when he wrote TG, taking advice from seminars he later learned to disregard. For this edition, he patched it up in a few places but admits it still has a very different style from the rest of the series. He's even made a habit of apologizing for TG and assuring readers that the next volume is much better.
I took this warning with a grain of salt. After all, he didn't think much of SL either, and derivative though it may be, it gave me real chills. So I continued from the foreword, hardly suspecting that I would like that part best.
If the third-person limited narration is any indication, the protagonist, Roland Deschain, rarely thinks of himself as anything but "the gunslinger." While his style is loosely based on the Old West, he lives in a post-apocalyptic world. His quest: to track down a wizard known as "the man in black" (who answers to Walter O'Dim among other names), possibly to kill him but certainly to get info about the mysterious tower that has something to do with what's happening all over. As Roland crosses the desert in pursuit, he befriends an equally lone boy named Jake, who somehow carries memories from modern New York City. This friendship is not entirely advantageous in the face of adversity.
To my mind, the first difficulty was determining the genre(s). It's really a bunch shoved together -- perhaps too many to list. Do I give King credit for innovation? Nah. It's typical of an ambitious young writer, combining what he likes (shades of J.R.R. Tolkien and Sergio Leone, for instance) without any regard for how well the components really work together.
But figuring that much out did little to aid my reading comprehension. King had been drunk on what I'd call obscurantism in those days. I kept coming up with more questions. How did Roland ever learn about Walter? What had Walter done, and what was he doing now? How did the apocalypse happen, and how could it have yielded precisely this world? Were there really demons as well as mutants in this future, or was that just superstition? Was it even the future per se? (Roland had no knowledge of automobiles, for example.) The list goes on, and precious few answers came in this volume.
Usually when I read a book, I picture it as a live-action movie. This came out more like a set of incomplete sketches in low-grade animation. It's that low on definite detail. King wanted so badly to capture the vastness of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly but didn't realize that vastness without substance is just so much emptiness.
Another problem is that it's hard to relate to any major character. Roland's emotions do not work quite like mine. We briefly see him described as a "matricide" and never learn the circumstances for that, but given what we know of his brutal upbringing, it may have been a rite of passage. While he does have a heart, he lacks the charisma of the Man with No Name. I fail to see the reader appeal.
Other characters tend to be down and out or brainwashed. Oddly enough, while Roland kills a lot of people (packing more ammo than I expected), Walter's more about reviving people. He actually wants Roland to catch up to him eventually. But he's still decidedly more villain than hero with his seemingly random acts of cruelty for laughs. Must come of consorting with demonic forces. Wouldn't you know that the only happy guy in a dystopia is crazy and/or evil.
Not helping at all is the tendency toward strange language. It doesn't happen all the time, but sometimes someone, especially Roland, will use either a made-up word or an alien turn of phrase that reminds us this is so not the Old West. King even had the gall to swipe "silflay" from Watership Down. This edition includes no glossary, so you have to hope that your attention to context suffices.
The action consists of mostly trudging along with little social life, punctuated by a handful of intense action scenes that leave little to the imagination for how "the gunslinger" will come out alive. It tries for tragedy far more than comic relief. But by the time the biggest tragedy came along, I had simply stopped caring. Now I know why film critic Kristen Page-Kirby said that apathy is even worse than boredom: The latter goes away more easily. (Plus, even the most artsy-fartsy, anti-populist, deliberately tedious creator wants you to care in some way.)
Comic book reviewer Lewis Lovhaug, a.k.a. Linkara, once asked why post-apocalyptic stories are so dull in spite of their action. My theory: low stakes. Once the worst has happened, what remains doesn't matter much. "Oh, a few people are struggling to survive? Should they even bother?" Some stories rise above that limitation; this one comes up hard against it.
You may have noticed that I normally like to temper my criticism, even for some of my least favorite works, partly in honesty and partly to avoid bumming out the people who disagree with me. Alas, I am hard pressed to find anything to like about TG. King's request that I continue anyway reminds me of a line from Ed Wood: "Worst film you ever saw? Well, my next one will be better. ...Hello?"
Now you may wonder why I finished the book. Well, it's pretty short for my fare, and by the time I decided it wasn't going to get good, I didn't have far to go. You might say I was like Roland, trudging across the desert for answers, knowing full well that there was no guarantee I'd like what followed.
I have now started The World According to Star Wars by Cass R. Sunstein. If nothing else, it's educational.