I Vanquished It!

Stephen King’s “It” was less of a novel and more of a trial, I think. One couldn’t simply read the book; one had to conquer it. I read the hardback version, a juggernaut that clocked in at about 1200 pages.

Let’s deconstruct this novel for a moment.

I would first describe it as if someone decided, “Hey. You know Something Wicked this Way Comes and Dandelion Wine? Those two novels would be even better as ONE STORY.” And so this person weaved them together, creating a tale that was mostly stories of childhood combined with horrific, carnival-inspired terror based on one’s innermost fears.
But that was not enough, my friends.
This person also decided to suck the allegorical magic out of those two books and bring it into nitty-gritty reality; this involved peppering the novel with substantial amounts of profanity, sex, violence, and gore.
Still, this person was not satisfied.
He said to himself, “I've always wanted to be able to deliver a killing blow with a book. You know, just one good whack to the skull. Let's make it a boat anchor of a novel. It must weigh down men's souls."
Behold. The monster was born.

I would not call the pace of this book slow. I would call it agonizing.
And not in the sense that you might think. King would tell a slow, detailed, poetic anecdote, then hit a brief, high note of horror, and then suddenly switch paces back to another person’s story. This continued for hundreds and hundreds of pages. It was all development. However, for the tail end of the book (and by tail end I mean last 200 pages or so), I couldn’t put it down. It was concentrated climax.

So…bottom line…did I like this book?

I can’t really tell.

The character development was incredible, I must admit. King used all sorts of perspectives so we, the audience, were completely drawn into the bond of friendship these characters shared. That’s why when the frenzied confrontations at the end began, I was completely hooked.

But still, the pacing was ultimately frustrating. And this is coming from the girl with a lot of patience. I read Agatha Christie’s puzzle-like mystery novels, for Christ’s sake.
I also got the feeling that some things were a little gratuitous. Perhaps it was a little unnecessarily drawn out in places. I felt myself thinking, “Okay, I get it,” despite King’s poetic descriptions. And even though King is very eloquent, 11-year-olds having sex was perhaps a bit much for me. Juuuust a bit over the top. He linked it to emotional and spiritual connections, sure, but I honestly didn’t see the need.

So perhaps it’s not that I disliked the book—simply that the book disappointed me. The powerful bond between the characters stayed with me during the novel, but seemed to fade away afterward as if it had never existed, much like how their friendships dissolved at the end of the book as if by magic.
That was a little saddening, maybe. That the message could not linger in my mind. And you'd think with all the lethal physical force this book could potentially deliver, the message should at least stay for a while.