Post by Pez on Dec 4, 2008 18:27:38 GMT -6
Dear Stephen King,
I’m a long-time reader of your books. I’ve picked up just about every story ranging from The Green Mile to Desperation and back again, but out of all your works, one of them stands out to me. One of the books uses such a radical approach in comparison to your other novels and short-story collections. I have to say, the first time I read the book I was both confused and sorely disappointed. I’m speaking, of course, about the book Hearts in Atlantis
The story began like many of your other works, with the introduction and skeletal framing of the characters being created while sinister forces loom beyond the margins of every page, hiding in the subtext. In fact, the entire first act of the novel seems like any other book you’ve written, in both style and execution. The tone flips in the second act, however, when we’re turned from a story of tall men, long yellow coats, and vulgar cars to the life of a college student during the Vietnam-war era. During my first read-through, my reaction was simply, “What?” I put the book down for a few days, unwilling to jump back in such a radically changed story.
Schoolwork beckoned me at a later date, requiring I finish a book report. Since I was already partially through Hearts in Atlantis, I decided to jump back in and give it another try. I opened the tired seams and wrinkled pages that developed through only a short while of library use. I once again found myself at the University of Mary, following closely behind Peter Riley and his addictions, mainly his addiction to the card game Hearts. I chased Peter as he chased the queen, unwilling to stop and smell the roses along the way.
After I completed my assignment, I felt guilty for so hurriedly rushing through a story. I checked out the book again, this time intent on bringing something away with me. I sat by and saw the stories of Bobby, Peter, Willie, John, Carol, and even more characters unfold before my eyes. Like carefully laid dominoes their fates clicked into place with one another, even crossing again in some of your later works. The first time I read Hearts in Atlantis I was focused on getting an “A”; the second time I found so much more.
I discovered that, like Peter, I had my own addictions to beat. While my addictions would not warrant such harsh consequences as flunking out of school and being forced into the draft, they still affected my life in both social and educational ways. Procrastination, internet reliance, withdrawing myself from my peers: these were all red flags quite visible to me, and without seeing what consequences could arise through my bad habits and mild addictions, I might have gone the route of Peter and taken a turn for the worst. Instead, I learned from Peter’s mistakes. I saw my own self in a different light, and strived to change these aspects of my personality.
I also saw in Carol’s story just how important my voice is. Though the protests she participated in were borderline terrorism, and by no means something to aspire towards, the commonality of these protests showed how powerful the voice of the people can be. If those who are barely older than myself are capable of making their voice heard, why can’t my voice ring clear and true along with them?
It was only after reading Hearts in Atlantis for a third time, after reading the Dark Tower series, that I truly saw how the characters clicked together. Like stepping away from a puzzle to see the picture instead of carefully crafted jigsaws, I could imagine the grand image you had envisioned for the book. The Wheel of Ka keeps spinning on and on, bringing its highs and lows, yet people live on. What I cannot grasp, however, is how you were so capable of offering up fate and destiny on a silver platter to your readers. What was your motivation, and what caused you to link not only several books, but also nearly half of your total written pieces to date, possibly even more?
The references are abundant and they surely make for an interesting talking point, but these links could not possibly be made by pure coincidence, nor could it be only a passing interest. You went beyond simply meshing a world of novels together, Mr. King, and I need to pick your brain so as to discover what you hoped to accomplish by making this intricate web.
Until then, the most I can say is that I’m glad I gave a nonsensical plot twist a second chance; I ended up finding a rose of my own.
Sincerely,
Sam -----
I’m a long-time reader of your books. I’ve picked up just about every story ranging from The Green Mile to Desperation and back again, but out of all your works, one of them stands out to me. One of the books uses such a radical approach in comparison to your other novels and short-story collections. I have to say, the first time I read the book I was both confused and sorely disappointed. I’m speaking, of course, about the book Hearts in Atlantis
The story began like many of your other works, with the introduction and skeletal framing of the characters being created while sinister forces loom beyond the margins of every page, hiding in the subtext. In fact, the entire first act of the novel seems like any other book you’ve written, in both style and execution. The tone flips in the second act, however, when we’re turned from a story of tall men, long yellow coats, and vulgar cars to the life of a college student during the Vietnam-war era. During my first read-through, my reaction was simply, “What?” I put the book down for a few days, unwilling to jump back in such a radically changed story.
Schoolwork beckoned me at a later date, requiring I finish a book report. Since I was already partially through Hearts in Atlantis, I decided to jump back in and give it another try. I opened the tired seams and wrinkled pages that developed through only a short while of library use. I once again found myself at the University of Mary, following closely behind Peter Riley and his addictions, mainly his addiction to the card game Hearts. I chased Peter as he chased the queen, unwilling to stop and smell the roses along the way.
After I completed my assignment, I felt guilty for so hurriedly rushing through a story. I checked out the book again, this time intent on bringing something away with me. I sat by and saw the stories of Bobby, Peter, Willie, John, Carol, and even more characters unfold before my eyes. Like carefully laid dominoes their fates clicked into place with one another, even crossing again in some of your later works. The first time I read Hearts in Atlantis I was focused on getting an “A”; the second time I found so much more.
I discovered that, like Peter, I had my own addictions to beat. While my addictions would not warrant such harsh consequences as flunking out of school and being forced into the draft, they still affected my life in both social and educational ways. Procrastination, internet reliance, withdrawing myself from my peers: these were all red flags quite visible to me, and without seeing what consequences could arise through my bad habits and mild addictions, I might have gone the route of Peter and taken a turn for the worst. Instead, I learned from Peter’s mistakes. I saw my own self in a different light, and strived to change these aspects of my personality.
I also saw in Carol’s story just how important my voice is. Though the protests she participated in were borderline terrorism, and by no means something to aspire towards, the commonality of these protests showed how powerful the voice of the people can be. If those who are barely older than myself are capable of making their voice heard, why can’t my voice ring clear and true along with them?
It was only after reading Hearts in Atlantis for a third time, after reading the Dark Tower series, that I truly saw how the characters clicked together. Like stepping away from a puzzle to see the picture instead of carefully crafted jigsaws, I could imagine the grand image you had envisioned for the book. The Wheel of Ka keeps spinning on and on, bringing its highs and lows, yet people live on. What I cannot grasp, however, is how you were so capable of offering up fate and destiny on a silver platter to your readers. What was your motivation, and what caused you to link not only several books, but also nearly half of your total written pieces to date, possibly even more?
The references are abundant and they surely make for an interesting talking point, but these links could not possibly be made by pure coincidence, nor could it be only a passing interest. You went beyond simply meshing a world of novels together, Mr. King, and I need to pick your brain so as to discover what you hoped to accomplish by making this intricate web.
Until then, the most I can say is that I’m glad I gave a nonsensical plot twist a second chance; I ended up finding a rose of my own.
Sincerely,
Sam -----