I’ve always refrained from novels
of fantasy because their creators make up rules and facts to suit the needs of
their stories, rather than vice versa.
There are some writers for whom the creation of those rules becomes part
of the ingenuity of their novels. Examples
are Neil Gaiman’s American Gods and The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Often I’ve felt that Stephen King’s ingenuity
outstripped his narrative ability. In Dr. Sleep, for instance, a tribe of senior
citizens ride around the country in travel vans kidnapping people off the
streets. I thought the concept was funny
and wonderful at the same time, but, as in a number of his novels, King was
unable to create a narrative that lived
up to the strength of the concept. The
denouement fell flat. But I credit King’s
ingenuity.
With these caveats in mind, I began
the first volume of The Dark Tower
series, entitled The Dark Tower: The
Gunslinger (Grant, 1982). Relatively
short compared to the other books of the series, it sets up a story whose
ambitions are immense. I’ve sometimes
felt that King could be a sloppy writer, but in this book his prose is strong
and forward moving. It avoids
clichés. The scenario of a Gunslinger
travelling through a post-apocalyptic world (if that is what it is) in search
of a Tower that may be, metaphorically or literally, the key to the meaning of
life, or the abode of God, or something else, is at least tantalizing. The novel is full of foreboding and menace. The Gunslinger is a complicated, conflicted
character. The landscapes are
compelling. There may be too many cheesy monsters (the Slow Mutants) and
unlikely characters (Sister Sylvia Pittston).
It’s unclear what sort of world this narrative rests in—is it religious
allegory, a supernatural tale that wrangles its own rules, or what?
With these caveats in mind, I beganThis first volume of a 7-volume
series may prove to be an ingenious setup that King cannot ultimately make good
on, but I’m convinced enough to move to volume 2.
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