Reflections: Revival by Stephen King

The moment I read the final pages of Revival I knew there was no way I would be able to review it. Not because I didn’t like it, or because it wasn’t worth my time.  Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. How do you review or critique the work of your literary idol? Therefore, we aren’t calling this a review. Instead, it’s a reflection upon my reading experience. There will be no summary of the book, no spoilers to be alerted to. Simply my experience in reading this novel (ok, devouring it the moment the ebook hit my iPad).

To say I am a fan of Stephen King is an understatement. I’ve devoured everything he’s written. I impatiently and anxiously await each of his novels. Each year, as I prepare for my annual Halloween blog feature, I write King’s publicist hoping, this one time, King will agree to a guest post or interview.  It’s not just because he’s the king of horror, for he wasn’t just handed that title randomly. Stephen King doesn’t write novels. He crafts them.  It’s known that King isn’t big on plot. To him, the most important thing are the characters and the journey (inwardly or outwardly) they embark upon.

All of this rings true again with Revival. Months leading up to its release, teasers hinted at the horror contained within its pages. I did my best to avoid reading any pre-publication buzz about the book. I wanted to go in as blind as possible, discovering each and every plot point and character on my own. As is with every King novel, as I embark upon the journey of reading it, I don’t know what to expect, yet the moment I closed the book upon reading it, I knew all my expectations and desires were captured. It’s like King has this eerie ability to read the minds of his readers, pulling out their deepest desires, and inserting them into everything he writes, creating a wholly individual, intensely crafted reading experience.

With Revival, I was alarmed as I began to read. This didn’t feel like a particularly horrifying read.  I actually flipped to the beginning of my ebook, certain I had downloaded the wrong book. When I realized I hadn’t, I was alarmed even further. Just what was happening here!? This didn’t feel like anything of King’s I’d read before. I couldn’t possibly stop reading. I had to continue. This is Stephen King, after all. He has intent, the revelation of each character and storyline deliberately calculated.  Something is going to happen that totally wins me over as a reader. And it did.

I never got to that really horrifying scene.  Granted, there are some scenes that made me cringe, or cry, to scream out in terror or send shivers down my spine.  Yet what was it about this novel that won me over as a reader?  King inserted himself into this novel, more than in any other, in my humble opinion. As I read about Jamie, the protagonist, with his love of rock & roll and struggles with addiction, I felt as though I was reading about King himself.  So I continued, completely drawn in to what may come next.  The characters, in true King form, start as perfectly normal and average individuals. Then they each take a different route. They may continue along that perfectly normal path. They may take a route that reveals them as superb or extraordinary. Then there is the trademark WTF path in which they evolve into something completely horrifying.

So as I got to the end of the book, I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to; I had to sit quietly for nearly an hour, contemplating my feelings. And then it hit me. With each reading of a King novel, no matter the plot or storyline, it’s always the same experience. I begin, not knowing what I wanted out of the novel. I continue, wondering what I was going to get out of the novel. I finish, getting more than I could have possibly wanted.  It wasn’t the horror novel I thought it was going to be; it was so much more.

And then…I got to see Stephen King, in person. You know, when you have an idol, you kind of build up a perception of what this individual is like, in person. You hope, upon meeting them, that your perception isn’t shattered. So when I “met” King, the experience was so much more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. He’s an outstanding speaker, full of witty stories about his wife and children, advice for writers, and corny jokes (“two jumper cables walked into a bar…”).  Even better, he’s not conceited, not full of himself. He’s the freaking king of horror. He can pretty much say or do what he wants (would you want to try to stop him?). He could probably be a complete ass and get away with it. But he’s not. Despite years of successful writing, he still worries about the success of his novels. This is what makes him such a tremendous and talented writer. He doesn’t let his fame and prestige get ahead of him. He treats each novel like it is the first. Sometimes he tucks manuscripts away in a desk for a few years, or tosses them in the trash for his wife to rescue. This is what makes him an outstanding author and a truly admirable man.

As he talked about Revival, he confirmed many of my suspicions, including the autobiographical bit. He shared why he wrote it, where he wanted it to go. But what made him so passionate was the how; how it got there.  I’m not going to reveal much more for fear of ruining the reading experience. I’ll simply leave it at this: the evening I got to “meet” Stephen King was unforgettable. I wasn’t able to snag one of the random signed copies. But attending that event, and reading this book, was invaluable.  So, kudos to you, Stephen King, King of Horror! Rock on!