This year, I have not been to the library. I couldn’t really tell you how I managed to resist the temptation thus far. Instead of going to the library, I am focusing on finishing (or at least getting through a good amount of) the books that have been in my room for some time. Quite a few of these are Stephen King books, most of which I have already read numerous times over.
On Saturday, I picked up Dreamcatcher (2001). I had tried to read it one time before, but only got through the first 50 pages. When I started reading it again, I thought I’d get stuck at the same place I did before, but I didn’t. I got into the book this time, and then I remembered my entire obsession with Stephen King and the reason why so many of his books are in my room in the first place.
What I like most about Stephen King is how deeply he gets into his characters’ heads and how he makes the little details and events of their lives matter. His books are scary because the characters are so much like us that we sympathize with them immediately, and when something freaky happens to the character, we can easily imagine that same thing happening to us. All of that happens in Dreamcatcher, but the only thing I can find to complain about in the book thus far is that it’s a little too similar to It. Not that It was bad. Quite the contrary. It is probably my favorite Stephen King book.
Anyway… the point of this post is that I admire Stephen King, not only for his ability to write behemoth tomes that somehow manage to hold readers’ attention for 800+ pages, but also for his ability to so accurately describe what it’s like to be human.