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A Review of “The Colorado Kid”

The Colorado Kid by Stephen King
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is the first I’ve ever read of Stephen King. I’ve never found myself attracted to King’s writing…a couple of glances at the films made of his novels and overhearing descriptions of his writing have generally been enough to rule him out for me. That’s not because I don’t think he’s a good writer…I’ve heard everything to the contrary. Its just that suspense and horror aren’t my bent.

What I have found myself drawn to lately, however, is the SyFy Channel’s original series, Haven. The series is based off of The Colorado Kid, this short novella by Stephen King. Some of the behind-the-scenes videos from the series discuss how veiled references to King’s other stories appear throughout the series, much to the delight of his fans. While I’m not interested in reading the rest of his canon…or really anything else by him…I was very interested to read the basis for the just-eery-enough program upon which I’ve become so hooked.

And when I call this a short novella, its just that: the ebook version finishes at less than 200 pages, so if you pick it up with any time to devote at all, you’ll likely finish it in one sitting. Like the television series, the story is set in coastal Maine. This proves to be the perfect setting for a mystery, because, as King states in his afterword, nowhere is quite so isolated to provide for the mysterious as an island. The story is of a man who is discovered dead on a beach by two high school students one morning, and the subsequent investigation that is sold short by local law enforcement, and performed largely at the hand of the two old newspaper reporters of the local paper (who will be instantly recognizable to fans of Haven). The unidentified man, to whom they begin to refer as the Colorado Kid, is eventually identified, and discovered to have not only be from Colorado, but to have been seen in Colorado hours before being discovered dead on a beach in Maine. Thus the mystery begins…and it proves nearly unsolvable.

What King does here that’s so fascinating is that he leaves the story at that: an unsolvable mystery (although he hypothesizes the potential for solutions in his afterword, he never identifies any). Rather, this is a story that explores the phenomenon of mystery, the fact that human beings are confronted with (what King views as) the unsolvable mystery of life, and compelled to reach toward it, to keep trying to solve it regardless of how unsolvable it turns out to be, and to keep our future generations motivated to continue probing the unknown, as well. The newspaper reporters pass on the unsolvable story to their college intern, who has become passionate about staying in Maine and carrying on this small newspaper. She is the heir to the story of the Colorado Kid, and we know that she will continue to pursue it. In his afterword, King states that wanting to know can more important than knowing. As much as he seems to eschew any rhyme or reason to the tragedy of life in his thoughts, he seems to be exploring an almost theological idea here, nothing short of the knowledge of good and evil.

There’s nothing frightening about the novel. I was left with some chills when I read it late into the night in a quiet apartment with most of the lights off, but they weren’t the “something’s coming to get me” chills, but rather the chills that accompany an excellent mystery. And that, ultimately, is exactly what this is: an excellent mystery. The supernatural element that drives Haven is absent (although one does ponder paranormal solutions to the mystery when all rational explanations seem to fail), and the reader is drawn into sleuthing with amateur sleuths who are passionate about discovering the answer to the mystery. King even weaves in a classic quote from Sherlock Holmes, and its very much at home here, even though the truth isn’t discovered by the end.

But the reader is still left with the hope that it could be discovered. And so we’re driven to always keep wondering. And that’s the part of the human condition that King is probing here, the thing that drives us to seek answers to “why?” when we’re confronted with the unanswerable.

You don’t need to be a fan of Stephen King to love this book. You don’t even need to be a fan of Haven. If you are a fan of a good mystery, then this should be on your shelf.

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Seeing Things in a Different Light

I never thought that I would admit something like this, or even that I would think something like this, but I’ve found myself enjoying Autumn. And when I say “enjoying,” I mean that its a bittersweet sort of thing. I still mourn the fact that my day has reached darkness by 5:00 p.m. As I drove through traffic at around 4:00 p.m. on Monday evening, though, I realized that I really love how the light falls across the streets. I love the way it catches the trees in its slant, casting very pronounced and distinct shadows that really don’t occur at any other point in the year. The beauty is even more distinctive in the way the light falls over, and is broken up by, the homes and buildings along the sides of the streets. There’s something that’s completed as a beautiful sunset has its light distinctly dance around both the trees that were created for us, and the homes and buildings that we’ve created.

I realized also Monday evening, as I stood in a department store waiting to pay for a rushed purchase that I was making while between points A and B, that there’s something about the way our lights meet the light that is falling from the sky. As darkness arrives more quickly, I feel a sort of warmth in the way signs and streetlights and even brake lights punctuate our evening commutes. The experience evokes memories of Christmas shopping and Holiday festivities. I’ve always been so focused on how much I detest being cold that I’ve noticed these things sparingly, and at times not at all, in years past.

I think that all of these things occurred to me because I took the time to notice the way that the light fell across the streets this evening. Even though I didn’t really slow down, as such, I did make the time to notice what was happening. I wouldn’t have normally paused enough to notice the lighting while driving to where I needed to be. The curse of our busyness and supposed productivity…the burden of our ability to always be productive as we are mobile…is that we frequently move past these beautiful marks of the seasons that are given to us, I believe, as gifts. We miss the way our own advancements are cast in a different light because of the way the light from a sunset falls across them.

I heard someone talking about the physics of light this week. Perhaps because I’m used to seeing light depicted as rays or beams in comic books so frequently, I found this as a sort of revelation of the obvious, but the principal (and that’s probably the wrong word) is that we don’t see light, but rather we see everything else because of the light. The light reveals things to our attention. From that perspective, then, I didn’t really see the way the light fell across things this week. Rather, I saw everything else in a different way because it was illuminated in a different way…that is, revealed to me in a different way, almost like using theatrical lighting to point an audience’s attention to a different part of the stage. I would hate to think that I wouldn’t have noticed that, just because I didn’t take the time to notice.

The Holidays are closer than I care to think about right now. Which means that now, of all times, I need to take the time to notice. I must take the time to notice. This is all far too beautiful a thing to miss.

Photo Attribution: donjd2

Paraphrase

Karen is a fan of Harry Potter. She’s read the novels, and seen the movies. I have nothing against Harry Potter, and I understand that its extremely well-written…its just not really my thing. However, as we haven’t really had a date night together since our daughter joined us nearly seven weeks ago, I took Karen, very belatedly, to see the final Harry Potter movie. For me, it was entertaining, but I didn’t have enough backstory to really put the pieces together. She was impressed, and discussed with me after the movie how the film had differed from the novels in various ways. Her final conclusion, though, was that the adaptation had worked well.

A few years ago, I rushed to the film adaptation of Phantom of the Opera, as the show has been my favorite musical for years (the Broadway production remains one of the most amazing pieces of theatre I’ve seen). There were differences in the film, very notable differences and additions. I accepted them, however, because Webber had co-written the screenplay, and my thought was that, if the adaptation comes from the author, then the purity is maintained despite any differences. Now, I suppose that particular comparison might break down eventually, as Webber himself adapted Leroux’s novel from the early 1900’s. My point, though, is that I would have considered myself a purist where the storyline of Phantom is concerned. At the time, I accepted the changes readily because I felt that they had still come from Webber’s vision. Had another writer dominated the screenplay, I doubt I would have been as receptive.

A conversation with a family member over the weekend revolved around our inability to accept historical inaccuracies in film. I have the same problem with film adaptations of literature: liberties taken with the story drive me to distraction, because I’m very passionate about staying true the original work. All too often, stories are completely altered away from the author’s vision in order to make a “good film” (from Hollywood’s standards, at least, which are typically poor at best). This is particularly problematic when working with literature of historical importance, and occurs far too frequently in far too many spheres. Apparently, there were some significant differences between the latest Harry Potter film and the novel (fans can feel free to comment here), but Karen was okay with it because, in her perspective, it was a re-telling more so than a reinterpretation of the story.

As recording our stories in written form is a relatively new phenomenon in mankind’s history, perhaps our tendency toward literalness is also very recent. I say that because when stories were told in oral traditions, there were naturally some variations. This occurred not so much out of error, I think, but because storytellers, like historians, have a proverbial axe to grind; that is, a different part of the story to emphasize. That doesn’t mean that they’re telling the story incorrectly, but rather taking care to point out different things. We see this continue in our political realm today, and I would say that this would even account for some of what Biblical historians discuss as a set of perceived discrepancies among the Synoptic Gospels.

With this view in mind, I’m hard pressed to remain as much a purist in my favorite stories as I was previously. Of course, there is still a difference between a re-telling of a story, and a complete re-interpretation of a story. I’m still very selective in my tolerance of the second, but I think I am becoming more tolerant of the first.

This is sort of like seeing the same event from different perspectives, or vantage points. When we share those differing perspectives with others, we all come out better for it. Our stories deserve that same treatment, I think. A lack of literalness just might be a good thing.

Photo Attribution: Rosenfeld Media

Looking at Where We Are

I was catching up on my Google+ stream and looking at my Sparks to see what was going on in different areas of interest a few moments ago. Two of the interests that I have listed on my profile are (of course) the Hard Rock Cafe, and comic books.

I remember a professional acquaintance telling me a year or so ago about a comic book discussion group that he hosted at a local library. I always wanted to make it, but never did. When he and I were discussing the world of comics and great issues of our childhood years, I recall his mentioning that he felt that comic books were a snapshot of where a culture is at any given point in history. I find myself in agreement with that (do we need to look any further than the Watchmen for evidence?)

I think that the reason I’m so interested in rock history as well, though, is very similar. I can certainly trace the more profound moments of my childhood by going back through the music that I was listening to at the time. This is true, though, of nearly all of us…I imagine that you can do the same thing. And, I think that, culturally, we can go back through our musical history and see in it the same snapshot of what was going on culturally at a specific time period.

The reason I count visiting and collecting merchandise from the Hard Rock Cafe among my hobbies is because of the museum aspect of the restaurants. I think that they give visitors a glimpse of the history of the music that is a soundtrack to our culture.

How do you remember profound moments in your life? Does music take you back there? If not comic books, do other books cause you to remember? Movies? How does artistic expression take you back to the “glory days?”

A Review of “Carte Blanche”

Carte Blanche by Jeffery Deaver
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Having grown up enjoying James Bond’s adventures as a not-so-guilty pleasure from childhood onward, I quickly snatch up any new Bond novel that is released. I can trace the small handful of authors that have penned 007’s adventures from Fleming forward, and, for the most part, all of these authors have gone to great lengths to stay true to Fleming’s character. This is the second novel in four years to follow Bond’s adventures, the previous by Sebastian Faulks placing Bond in the height of the Cold War with a great depth of character development. That novel was a thoroughly enjoyable and Fleming-like adventure. In fact, Faulkes presented Bond as close to Fleming’s creation as Daniel Craig portrays Bond on the screen…that is to say, very much like Fleming’s Bond.

This is Deaver’s first entry into the pantheon of Bond authors, and the jacket made the book sound exciting and promising, placing Bond in a modern day, post 9-11 world in a rush to stop a terrorist event. The title is acquired from the fact that Bond is, as one of the best-of-the best “00” section agents, given “carte blanche” to complete his mission in any way possible. Deaver explores the political consequences that come with this freedom through the book in realistic and enjoyable detail.

Deaver, in fact, presents a nicely woven adventure, opening in the midst of a massive scale attack on a locomotive that Bond thwarts, and never slowing down through the weighty 400 + pages as Bond attempts to unravel a mysterious event labeled “Incident 20,” which is detected in whispers by British intelligence services, and promises mass casualties when accomplished. Deaver incorporates modern technology into Bond’s world quite well, and those of us who enjoyed Bond’s mid-career movies with all of his gadgetry will be quite enamored by Deaver’s imaginative descriptions, as well as all of the occasions that Bond’s mobile phone has an app for that. Deaver writes action sequences that are full but never over-stated, and does an excellent job of avoiding gratuitous gore or bloodshed in doing so, while never shying away from Bond’s using his well-known “license to kill” (although he never uses that phrase in this novel).

And, I’m sure that Deaver is an excellent thriller writer, with several novels already to his credit. I’m thinking, though, that perhaps he shouldn’t have tried Bond. Or, at least, he should have taken greater care to stay closer to the character.

Firstly, Deaver takes liberties with the setting of Bond’s adventures, placing him with an office known as the ODG, not MI6, where Bond has always been in his previous incarnations. However, since Deaver brought over the other major and necessary characters with Bond (i.e.: M, Bill Tanner, and Moneypenny), I was able to roll with the punches on this. Deaver also makes a quite interpretive dive into Bond’s family history, which, while proving to be an interesting subplot for the story, hung me up at times as being perhaps too great a liberty taken with the character.

Secondly, and most importantly, Deaver overuses a device to frustration in his storytelling. We’re led to a catastrophic event on several occasions in the book, breathlessly realizing that Bond has failed in his task to enormous consequences and loss of life, only to discover in the following chapter that he had actually swooped in and taken everyone to safety moments before the explosion. This was interesting the first time, odd the second, and actually made me want to stop reading after numerous other usages (and I’ve read at least one other review indicating the same frustration). This was complicated by the fact that Bond’s last minute victories were accomplished through forethought that is just simply untenable, as we’re taken back through previous chapters and told that his actions were actually to secret away a device that he would need later, or to obtain information from another character through that conversation that we thought meant something else. This is just unworkable in the reader’s mind, despite the fact that we’re dealing with a larger-than-life character.

And, along the lines of Bond being a larger-than-life character, thirdly: Bond is presented here as a “knight in shining armor” sort of character. This is accurate to a point, as he is driven to prevent an attack and save the lives of thousands of people. However, Fleming’s original cold and calculating Bond who follows orders, manipulates others without hesitation, and doesn’t spare lethal force, is missing here. Deaver tries to present Bond this way at times through various descriptions, but the descriptions are found to be at odds with Bond’s actions and moments of conscience.

Ultimately, Deaver presents a good story idea that is marred by poor execution of plot twists and very unsuccessful attempts to place a modern re-interpretation on a classic character. I’m not opposed to re-interpretations, but they need to be good ones. The book is well structured and well-paced, and the concept of the story is gripping. The book would make an average-quality Hollywood movie that most casual Bond viewers would likely enjoy.

Unfortunately, casual Bond viewers aren’t typically the ones (I don’t think) who read these books. The long-time fans are, and we tend to be purists. As such, we will find ourselves disappointed in Deaver’s offering, which is, in the end, only a mediocre delivery.

If you’re a general thriller, suspense, or espionage fan, this may be a good book for you. If you can remember and name all of Bond’s major arch-nemeses throughout his career, as well as your favorite weapons, then it may be a waste of your time.

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