critics who draw clear-cut lines between literature and popular fiction: ‘Honest effort must be
considered; ineptness must be pointed out; usefulness must be evaluated; good entertainment must be
announced; bullshit must be marked with a tiny red flag so we can detour around it and avoid getting
it on our shoes; the occasional stroke of genius must always be applauded; foolishness must be
laughed at; venality and gross fairy-tale romanticism must be marked for what it is.’
This column was originally published in the July 1980 issue of Adelina.
Books: Two for Terror (August 1980)
In this column King takes a look at two novels— Mayday by Thomas H. Block and Cold Moon
Over Babylon by Michael McDowell. Of the Block book, King writes, ‘Imagine the original Airport
movie (whose virtues have been largely lost as the result of the three sequels so putrid one can only
laugh at them) crossed with George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, throw in a dash of post-
Watergate paranoia, and you may have some thin idea of the wallop which Thomas H. Block’s first
novel, Mayday, delivers.’
He enthuses over Michael McDowell’s book: ‘With the publication of his second novel, Cold
Moon Over Babylon, one wonders if perhaps Avon has become the first paperback publisher in
American history to have published, in the mass market, a major American writer. In The Amulet,
McDowell writes good. In Cold Moon Over Babylon, McDowell writes great.’ King has always
taken a stand for fiction that he believes is of genuine quality and this novel is no exception: ‘But for
the reader who simply appreciates fiction—and never mind what genre it happens to be a part of by
virtue of its plot— Cold Moon Over Babylon becomes an arresting melody of style and story, the two
welded together by McDowell’s fertile imagination. Recommended.’
This piece was first printed in the August 1980 issue of Adelina.
Books: Travelers (September 1980)
Here King reviews The Resort by Sol Stein and Free Fall by J.D. Reed. Of The Resort, he
writes, ‘the book is readable, fascinating in a repulsive sort of way, and competently written...The
real problem with The Resort is Stein’s compulsion to explain the outré and then moralize upon it.
The first chapter is indeed the stuff of greatness but can you imagine Jackson’s The Lottery turned
into a 300-page novel? I can’t—and there I rest my case. Recommended...but without much
enthusiasm.’
King feels a little differently about Free Fall. ‘Reed is a good writer, and Free Fall’s slow drift
away from the original tone struck in the first 100 pages or so does not completely mar the book. And
as for the author’s hypothesis about what might have happened to the elusive Mr. Cooper, his guess is
as good as mine or yours, and might be better. Recommended with reservations.’
It is interesting to note that, while the existence of the other Books columns was known, this
piece was first brought to the attention of King collectors and experts only a few years ago. It was
first published in the September 1980 issue of Adelina.
An Amazing Trip to the Outer Limits of Fantasy (October 19, 1980)
This is a review of a short fiction collection, The Stories of Ray Bradbury. More than a book
review, it allows us some of King’s finest thoughts on one of the greatest writers of our time and is
deserving of a wider audience. ‘It may be that the story which comes closest to the center of the
dichotomy that is Ray Bradbury is the one at the exact center of this whopping collection of 100 short
stories. The story is “The Wonderful Happiness Machine,” originally published in the Saturday
Evening Post and later a part of “Dandelion Wine,” a book that also happens to stand at the center of
Bradbury’s career as a writer—both chronologically and, I think, philosophically.’
King takes a look at the stories in the book (and Bradbury’s career) as they are arranged
chronologically. In closing he writes: ‘In a real sense, even the shortcomings in the book’s second
half are comforting, because in this omnibus volume we can view that natural creative cycle of an
American writer who has felt well and written well, and remains content. Bradbury is the Sherwood
Anderson of the American fantasy story, and I can forgive him his little indulgences for one reason if
for no other—he is a man who began as a natural, and who remains a natural 28 years after the oldest
story in this volume was originally published; he is a man who has made peace with this dream.’
Sources that previously listed this piece lacked a title or description and dated it as October 10,
1980. We believe this is probably because no King expert or researcher had actually tracked the
piece down. Justin Brooks found microfilm of The Chicago Tribune at James Madison University’s
library in Virginia and searched for this piece. Realizing that October 10th wasn’t a Sunday that year,
he knew the date proposed must be wrong, considering that the Bookworld section it was said to be
published in only appeared on Sundays. Shortly after, he found it in the October 19, 1980 issue of
Chicago Tribune Bookworld. A reader trying to find a copy of this piece would be most likely
rewarded by copying it from the microfilm of a good library that archives The Chicago Tribune. It
can also be ordered from some libraries, although that costs up to $15 per article.
The original manuscript title of this piece was Ray Bradbury Stories.
Books: Love Those Long Novels (November 1980)
King readers know all about lengthy novels. In this column, he discusses an important subject:
negative reactions to long novels by many critics. He begins by describing the first 150 pages of a
600-page novel called No Name, by Wilkie Collins. This novel was first published during the Civil
War and had recently been reprinted in a mass-market paperback edition. At this point, King writes,
‘Are you still with me? You’re lost? Oh dear...and we’ve only covered 150 pages of a book which
runs over 600 pages, in fine print!’
He continues, ‘The point of all this is simple enough: there was an age—it ended around 1950, I
should judge—when the long novel was accepted on its own terms and judged upon matters other than
length; there was a time before that when the long novel was the rule rather than the exception.’ He
also mentions negative reactions to his own longer novels: ‘One critic was so put out by the 460-page
length of my novel The Dead Zone that he wished I might contract a case of permanent dyslexia. A
critic of a previous novel, The Stand (which runs to over 800 pages), said “Given enough rope, any
writer will hang himself...and in this novel, King has taken enough rope to outfit an entire clipper
ship.” The fact is, critics seem to hate big books as much as the general reader seems to love them.’
It is interesting to note that King writes as if he will be continuing this column in other issues of
Adelina, although this was his last for the magazine: ‘We’ll have more to say about the unique
problem of the long novel and how to deal with it next time...and the time after that, possibly.’ It is
unclear why the relationship between magazine and writer came to an end.
This piece was first published in the November 1980 issue of Adelina.
The Cannibal and the Cop (November 1, 1981)
This is a review of Thomas Harris’s novel Red Dragon, a prequel to The Silence of the Lambs.
King later reviewed Silence’s sequel Hannibal (see Hannibal the Cannibal below). He begins, ‘ Red
Dragon, Thomas Harris’ novel of a psychopath in the grip of the cannibalistic id-creature who lives
inside him, is probably the best popular novel to be published in America since The Godfather.’
As is typical with King, he ends this review with important social commentary that ties in to the
novel: ‘It may be that “serious” novels of men growing menopausal in southern California only sell
2,000 copies because readers sense, in the unmasking of mass murderer John Wayne Gacy, in the
assassination of John Lennon, or the rape of a nun in New York City, a more vital, more mortal
subject. The prose in this novel is in perfect sync with the pulse of the times, and in the end we may
sense that the Red Dragon in these pages is real enough...too real. In showing us that terrible face
here—the face that is never seen in the Blake watercolor from which the book takes its name—Harris
does more than entertain; he is able to create that sane and terrible clarity which we call art.’
This review was originally published in the November 1, 1981 issue of Washington Post Book
World. It was later reprinted in Shadowings: The Reader’s Guide to Horror Fiction, 1981-82,
edited by Douglas E. Winter. It is relatively easy to obtain, as larger libraries will have The
Washington Post on microfilm; and Shadowings can be obtained from used booksellers without great
cost.
The Ludlum Attraction (March 7, 1982)
Sometimes, reviewers of art will write a review in an atypical fashion; here King reviews
Robert Ludlum’s The Parsifal Mosaic in the form of a letter to a fellow businessman friend. Again,
his knowledge of society shines through. He opens: ‘Just a note to tell you that the new Bob Ludlum is
out and you’ll want to get it as soon as you possibly can. Business guys like us would no more leave
home without the new Ludlum than we would leave home without our American Express cards;
you’re going to see mega-copies of this one in the airline terminals and on planes as business guys
like us wing their ways to the next round of meetings in London, Los Angeles, Dallas, or Cleveland. If
you and muffin haven’t gone on vacation yet, be assured that you’ll see lots of Parsifals around lots of
bright blue resort pools or lying face down on chairs beside palm-lined tennis courts while the pro
screams “Where is your backhand? Where is your follow through?” at sweating, slightly overweight
business guys like us who have given up their Botany 500s and ties for shirts with alligators on the
breasts (at least for the week). To “cut right through it,” Tad, Ludlum’s Mosaic is essentially what’s
happening, escape-wise, as the snow finally begins to melt this later winter.’
King closes the letter/book review,‘Well, got to sign off, Tad: I’m flying to Boston day after
tomorrow and Ivy wanted me to run down to the mall and see if B. Dalton has got the new John Saul
or maybe even the new Sidney Sheldon. She doesn’t like to come with me on these trips, even though
Grace is married, Billy’s working for E.F. Hutton in San Francisco, and Davey is at school most of
the time, she doesn’t like to fly. But when the home is empty, I guess she likes something to occupy
her mind.’
This article was originally published in the March 7, 1982 issue of Washington Post Book
World. Although this is its only appearance, it should be easy to secure as most large libraries have
The Washington Post in their archives on microfilm or microfiche.
Ross Thomas Stirs the Pot (16 October 1983)
King begins this piece with some very positive words indeed for Ross Thomas’s newest novel.
‘In a country that chooses to canonize a few of its many fine comic novelists and ignore the rest, Ross
Thomas is something of a secret. Missionary Stew is Thomas’s 19th novel (five of them were issued
under the pseudonym Oliver Bleeck), but the people who know and relish the work of Ishmael Reed,
Don DeLillo, and Peter DeVries do not know the work of Ross Thomas, and that seems a great
shame. Perhaps Missionary Stew, certainly the best of the Thomas novels I’ve read, will help to
rectify that situation. It is funny, cynical, and altogether delicious. If buying a novel is, as a friend of
mine once said, always a speculative investment for the reader, then take it from me—this one is a
blue-chip stock. Baby, you can’t go wrong.’
King has a knack for pinning down exactly why readers should pick up the book he is reviewing
(if he likes it, that is): ‘This is crisp, incisive, delightful stuff; you read it and say, “Yeah, that had
crossed my mind, but this guy pinned it down for me.”’ This is high praise indeed, considering many
King readers and fans have said the very same thing about his work.
This review was published in the October 16, 1983 edition of the Washington Post Book
World. Again, it should be easy to secure as most large libraries have The Washington Post in their
archives on microfilm or microfiche.
Childress Debut with ‘World’ Shows Uncanny Style and Eye for Detail (21 October 1984)
This review is of A World Made of Wire by Mark Childress, who happened to be Regional
Editor of The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution. He begins, ‘This is a damned fine story.
Listen to a little bit of it and see if you don’t think so’; and then unfolds the initial events of the novel.
‘There are two common failings in a first novel—one is wild and emotional profligacy; the other
is over-control. I think it is that over-control I sense here, and not a failure of the heart. Besides,
over-control is better for novelists who are just beginning, especially when they are as talented as
Childress obviously is. Emotionally profligate novelists are all too often apt to drink themselves to
death, or something like that. I don’t want that to happen to Mark Childress, because he’s got the
makings.’ King closes, ‘This is an auspicious debut; here is a fellow who can only get better. And
when he does—hoo! That Mark Childress gone be some witchy boy.’
This review was originally published in October 21, 1984 issue of the Atlanta Journal-
Constitution. While the existence of the piece was known, it took the authors years to track down, as
most libraries don’t keep this publication in their archives. Other than a trip to Atlanta libraries or the
newspaper, the only possible way to get this article is to pay the somewhat exorbitant costs of having
the article copied and sent from a Georgia library.
What Went Down When Magyk Went Up (February 10, 1985)
King begins with a great ‘hooker’: ‘How good is this novel? Probably the most convincing thing
I can say on the subject is that it cost me money. After finishing Glitz, I went out to the bookstore at
my local mall and bought everything by Elmore Leonard I could find—the stuff I didn’t already own,
that is.’ King later reviewed Leonard’s novel The Hot Kid (see Gangster Rap in this chapter).
He concludes, ‘ Time magazine has called Mr. Leonard a “Dickens from Detroit.” I haven’t read
enough of him yet (give me a month or so) to agree, but his wit, his range of effective character
portrayal and his almost eerily exact ear for the tones and nuances of dialogue suggest Dickens to me.
Although it’s only February, I’ll venture a guess— Glitz may be the best crime novel of the year. Even
if it’s not, I’m sorry it took me so long to catch up to Mr. Leonard.’
This piece was published in the February 10, 1985 edition of The New York Times Book
Review. Most major libraries will have copies of The New York Times in their archives.
All-American Love Story (June 6, 1986)
King loves The Moon Pinnace by Thomas Williams and writes he’s been a fan of the author for
some time. In fact, he only has one bad thing to say about this novel, and even then is unable to be too
critical: ‘The worst thing about The Moon Pinnace is its title. Williams, who teaches at the
University of New Hampshire and who has nurtured an amazing number of young writers as well as
students who aspire to be writers, gives the impression of a man who realized he had written a novel
of potentially enormous popular appeal and so, almost as an act of penance, decided to give it the
most off-putting title he could think of. It fits; it’s symbolically correct; but the cold introduction it
makes to the story which follows in no way suggests the heart and heat of this novel, which is the
finest Williams has ever written.’
Concluding, King writes: ‘I’ve thought for the last 12 years that when it comes to people who
make stories, Thomas Williams is about the best we can do. He never dances, but he walks just as
straight and pretty as you could want, and he’s never been better than this. In The Moon Pinnace we
are listening to a man whose tendency to be pedantic never has a chance. By his will or against it, this
is an exuberant novel which also manages to be sober and thus convincing in its heat and hope.’
This review was published in the October 16, 1983 edition of the Washington Post Book
World. Although this is its only appearance, it should be easy to secure as most large libraries have
The Washington Post (perhaps the second most important American newspaper) in their archives on
microfilm or microfiche.
Casting a Lovely Light on Mysteries of Life (April 24, 1988)
This article reviews William Kennedy’s novel, Quinn’s Book. King begins by summing up the
novel neatly but without giving anything away: ‘The Quinn of William Kennedy’s new novel is
Daniel Quinn, and Quinn’s Book is the story—mostly but not entirely narrated by the gentleman
himself—of Quinn’s life. That life falls into two neat segments: Quinn the boy, an orphaned Irish lad
under the rough care of a ferryman named John the Brawn, and Quinn the man, a successful war
journalist in search of mysteries.’
He closes with a reference to this review’s title. ‘Kennedy is wise enough to offer no
explanations of the inexplicable (any more than he tries to explain Maud’s psychic ability or the
mysterious brass plate left to Daniel Quinn—in the bottom of the birdcage—by his mother). He offers
only illumination but that is quite enough. Quinn’s Book casts a lovely light, indeed.’
This review was published in the April 24, 1988 edition of the Times-Union, an Albany, New
York newspaper. While the existence of this piece was known, it took the authors several years to
track it down, as most libraries don’t archive this particular newspaper. Other than a trip to upstate
New York, the best way to secure this article is to pay the somewhat exorbitant costs of having this
article copied and sent from an Albany-area library.
Robert Marasco:Burnt Offerings(1988)
As this piece is included in a collection of writings about horror books, King talks about the
genre: ‘Horror stories are waking nightmares, and the best of them are whispering of very real fears
at the same time they are screaming of ghosts and demons and werewolves. It is the sound of these
two intertwined voices speaking together, one at top volume, the other very softly, that gives the good
tale of horror its dreamlike power, I think. But writers of horror very rarely attempt out-and-out
allegory, and the novels of this sort which come immediately to mind are not generally considered
horror stories at all: Lord of the Flies, for instance, or George Orwell’s political fable Animal
Farm.’
Of Burnt Offerings, King writes, ‘Marasco’s haunted house tale...lends the tale a richness and
resonance even really good horror stories rarely achieve. It is a cautionary and disturbing tale, and
one which comes highly recommended not just for fans of the genre but to the general reader.’
This piece is relatively easy to find. It appeared in the volume Horror: 100 Best Books, edited
by Stephen Jones and Kim Newman, published by Xanadu Books in limited and trade edition
hardcover; and was later reprinted in trade paperback in both the United States and the United
Kingdom.
The Gospel According to John Irving (March 5, 1989)
‘It is probably not my job to wonder if John Irving has set himself up for a colossal critical
pasting by writing A Prayer for Owen Meany, but I would be less than honest if I did not begin by
saying the idea had occurred to me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear a chorus of
intellectual groans: “Not another Christ figure! ”’ King writes, opening this review. He loves this
novel, however and defends it against those potential critics. ‘Not to worry. The hero of John Irving’s
seventh novel (and he is a hero; Irving begins by quoting Leon Bloy: “Any Christian who is not a hero
is a pig”) isn’t just a Christ figure; he appears to be a blood relative. I suppose it’s possible to be
appalled by such novelistic license, but I was filled with delighted amazement at the idea. No one has
ever done Christ in the way John Irving does Him in A Prayer for Owen Meany. This is big time,
friends and neighbors.’
He closes with a compliment for Irving—a baseball analogy and reference to the novel: ‘Owen
fouled his pitch off when he finally got it; John Irving has gotten all of his, and parked it in the upper
deck.’
This review only appeared in the March 5, 1989 edition of the Washington Post Book World.
Obtaining this piece should prove simple, as major libraries carry The Washington Post and
consequently have older copies archived on either microfilm or microfiche.
The Fantastic Mr. Dahl (April 10, 1994)
This is a review of Roald Dahl: A Biography by Jeremy Treglown. King opens: ‘According to
the Puffin editions of his fabulously successful stories for children, Roald Dahl was “the World’s
Most Scrumdiddlyumptious Storyteller.” Perhaps. But, as Jeremy Treglown’s biography makes clear,
he lived a less than scrumdiddlyumptious life.’
He closes with a meaningful quote from the book itself: ‘“I visited Dahl’s grave when I began to
write this book,” Treglown concludes. “On it were a few, small, rather dilapidated toys—a plastic
parrot, a teddy bear, a broken jack-in-the-box.” It is perhaps with these gifts that my meaningful
critique of Roald Dahl’s work should begin. And perhaps where it should end, as well.”’ The title of
this review refers to a Dahl book, The Fantastic Mr. Fox.
This is another one of King’s Washington Post book reviews and was published in the April 10,
1994 edition of the Washington Post Book World. Again, any major library should have this
newspaper archived and it will be accessible on microfilm/microfiche.
Blood and Thunder in Concord (September 10, 1995)
For something of a change, this is a review of an older book, A Long Fatal Love Chase, by
Louisa May Alcott. King starts by referencing his own novel Rose Madder. ‘How much has the
suspense novel—subgenre “women stalked/women in peril”—changed over the last 130 years or so?
Well, consider: during the summer of 1992 I wrote a novel in which a woman named Rose leaves her
violent, mentally unstable husband and flees to another city. Here she is taken in at a women’s shelter
and begins to build a new life. She also meets a much gentler man who falls in love with her. While
all this is going on, her obsessed husband is hard at work, tracking her down.’
Of Alcott’s novel King says, ‘In 1856, Louisa May Alcott write A Long Fatal Love Chase, a
novel in which a woman named Rose leaves her violent, mentally unstable husband and flees to
another city. Here she is taken in at a women’s shelter (a convent, in the Alcott version) and begins to
build a new life. This life includes a much gentler man who falls in love with her (That he happens to
be a priest was only one of the problems Alcott had with the subject matter of her book). While all
this is going on, her obsessed husband is hard at work, tracking her down.’
This piece was originally published in the September 10, 1995 edition of The New York Times
Book Review. It is easy to track down as The New York Times is one of the major newspapers—any
significant public or university library should have it available on microfilm.
[Untitled] (March 1997)
King writes glowingly of Stephen Dobyns’ new novel, The Church of Dead Girls in this letter.
He says it is ‘a glorious throwback to the suspense novels of the 40s, 50s and 60s (there’s even a
nifty little tip of the skimmer to Daphne DuMaurier’s Jamaica Inn), where the key word was still
“novel” and not “suspense”—where the latter arose from the former. I don’t think there’s been a
novelist’s novel as scary as this one at least since the early seventies, when John Farris wrote All
Heads Turn as the Hunt Goes By and When Michael Calls159. Those, as good as they were, were
cold works, stories from a chilly mind. There’s nothing cold about The Church of Dead Girls.’ King
has something of an attachment to Dobyns’ work. He dedicated an obscure poem, Dino, to the
novelist and poet160 and, in Insomnia, Dorrance Marstellar gave Ralph Roberts a copy of one of
Dobyns’ collections of poems, Cemetery Nights!
King closes this letter/review with, ‘Certainly I don’t expect to read a more frightening novel
this year. Very rich, very scary, very satisfying. Thanks for sending it, feel free to extract a blurb if
you feel it will help the book, and please convey a copy of this letter—along with my heartfelt
congratulations—to Stephen Dobyns.’
The average King collector or reader will find this piece extremely difficult to find. It is a
reproduction of a faxed letter from the author in praise of The Church of Dead Girls by Stephen
Dobyns and was only distributed with Advance Reader’s Copies of this book as a promotion.
Sequel Surpasses First Two Books (aka Hannibal the Cannibal) (9 June 1999)
This piece is a review of Thomas Harris’s novel Hannibal. As most readers will know, that is a
sequel to his novel The Silence of the Lambs. King also reviewed Silence’s prequel Red Dragon in
1981 (see The Cannibal and the Cop in this chapter.)
Obviously, King has long been a fan of Harris’s work and this novel is no exception. ‘ Hannibal
is full of rough bumps and little insights as sharp as one of the doctor’s own needles; Harris observes
America with a cultured civility and perfect grasp of Southern idiom that only Tom Wolfe can match.’
He closes writing of the future for the Hannibal Lecter character, while making reference to the
novel itself. ‘Is this the end for the doctor and the F.B.I. agent? Harris is crafty enough to leave the
door to a fourth installment open, but just a crack. I hope with all my heart that he will write again,
and sooner rather than later—novels that so bravely and cleverly erase the line between popular
fiction and literature are very much to be prized—but I would rather see him bar this door and go
down a different corridor. Familiarity, even with a monster, breeds contempt. As it is, I like to think
of Dr. Lecter in his Maple Leafs warm-up jersey, losing his carefully husbanded gourmet meal to the
little boy. He takes the loss quite well, I might add. Even genially. Why, a man like that could steal
your heart. Not to mention you liver...your sweetbreads... your....’
This piece was first published as Sequel Surpasses First Two Books in the June 9, 1999 edition
of Canadian newspaper, The Ottawa Citizen; and then in the June 13, 1999 edition of The New York
Times Book Review, as Hannibal the Cannibal. Obviously, the more accessible version of this piece
is the latter. Any major library will have back issues archived on microfilm and a copy is easy to
obtain.
Wild About Harry (July 23, 2000)
This is a review of the fourth book in J. K. Rowling’s wildly popular Harry Potter series, Harry
Potter and the Goblet of Fire. King also reviewed the fifth book, Harry Potter and the Order of the
Phoenix (see Potter Gold directly below).
He starts with his accident and describes how he fell in love with Rowling’s Harry Potter
series. ‘I read the first novel in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, in
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