Misery

Stephen King
1987
 

I’ll begin with a statement about Stephen King. He is a master of storytelling. He is quite possibly the greatest storyteller of his generation, and don’t let any literary snob tell you otherwise. The statistics do not lie and the numbers involving King are truly remarkable. He has written over fifty novels, had a similar amount of film adaptations of his works (three of which earned Academy Award nominations and success), has won countless awards and has influenced a host of writers. King’s works are nothing short of genius and despite the general belief; he is not limited to horror (The Green Mile and Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption spring to mind).

 

Misery, though, is just that. The tale follows the story of author, Paul Sheldon. His works include the Misery Chastain series; adored by middle-aged American women, despised by himself.  In his latest novel of the series, Misery’s Child, Sheldon has ‘killed-off’ Misery Chastain, ending his unhappy writing time, and the opening of the novel sees him setting off inebriated in his car with a recently-finished manuscript of Fast Cars. Fast Cars is a novel that Paul can feel proud of, and is confident that it will receive favourable reviews from the critics (if not the same paycheques that the Misery books could fetch).

 

Drink-driving can never be a good omen in a King novel though, and sure enough, Paul crashes his car, badly breaking his legs and falling unconscious. Enter Annie Wilkes, the absolutely brilliant antagonist of Misery. Annie finds Paul and 'nurses' him back to health – or at least saves him from death. To begin with, everything seems good; Annie is Paul’s “number one fan” and she excitedly tells the bedbound and pain-killing-drug-dependent Paul how excited she is to read Misery’s Child. She is not happy with the ending however, and subjects the “dirty birdie” Paul to severe mental and physical tortures.

Annie seems to suffer from a mental illness, most probably bipolar mood disorder, and she forces Paul to write a new Misery Chastain book. Terrified of his prisoner, and dependent of the illicit painkillers that Annie provides, Paul begins to write. Misery is a very claustrophobic novel, with the tone set by Annie’s moods. The darker her moods, such as when she crushes a rat with her hand, staring vacantly as she does, the more uncomfortable the read. The novel is a slow burner, but gains momentum as Annie begins to lose control of herself.

King has a knack of creating extraordinary villains, with Annie being joined by The Shining’s Jack Torrence as two of the most terrifying characters to appear in print. I found myself drawn towards Annie in a way I didn’t with Paul. Of course, I wanted Paul to escape from her hideous entrapment, but I felt desperately sorry for her. Annie’s mental condition leaves her a danger to others, namely Paul, and also to herself. Her strange logic and own set morals (she thinks that swearing is very bad for the soul, yet has no qualms about taking an axe to a disabled man) create darkly comical moments which actually exacerbate the tension, rather than relieve it.

King’s craft is at its finest in Misery. To sustain a 320 page psychological horror novel with only two characters is testament of his narrative voice. The book is written in third person, focalised through Paul. King’s would-be-funny-if-it-wasn’t-so-terrifying writing style is evident after Annie angrily told Paul the beginning of his new book wasn’t good enough. King’s narrator writes:

He hadn’t cared for her mood this morning. He supposed he should count himself lucky that she hadn’t re-broken his legs with a baseball bat or given him a battery-acid manicure or something similar to indicate her displeasure with the way he had begun her book – such critical responses were always possible, given Annie’s unique view of the world.

This is typical of a Stephen King novel. He has a way of hooking his reader with his conversational narrative voice. It is this ability to speak to the reader that draws them in, making them care what happens to the characters, and it is why he has had success across the genres, from Westerns to Fantasies.

Misery is just one of many works by Stephen King that I would recommend. Stuffy academia may sniff that King isn’t high-brow enough, but my approach to reading is this:

1.       Did the book entertain me?

2.       Did the book make me think?

On this occasion, Misery has done both. King has written a page-turner with an antagonist that has mental health problems that are actually made clear, rather than simply creating a generic evil villain. For this book alone, Stephen King deserves respect.

War Horse

War Horse                                                                                                                              [Contains spoilers]

Michael Morpurgo

1982

 Recent media reports into British schoolchildren’s intelligence are, if they are to be believed, terrifying for the future of the nation. According to the BBC, British children are now learning at a slower rate than any other European nation, while another (slightly more dubious) source has claimed that three quarters of six to ten-year-olds could not locate Great Britain on an atlas.

 

As I said, these figures have possibly been adjusted to cause a moral panic. However, given the increasing amount of video games, films and television shows catering for the country’s youngsters, it would not surprise me if reading books is now a hobby enjoyed by fewer children each year. I am not saying that reading endless novels is the only way in which children can learn, but I believe that reading can be a big part of any child’s development.

Which brings me, finally, to War Horse. Written in 1982 by the brilliant Michael Morpurgo, this children’s novel documents the journey made by a horse named Joey, through the battlefields of the First World War. Joey’s owner, Albert, is too young to enlist, and so Joey has to make the harrowing trek alone.

Morpurgo’s narrative is first person, from Joey’s point of view. Giving the horse a voice is a masterstroke, as it gives the often-overlooked and never-heard, a voice. More importantly, due to Joey’s innocence and neutrality in the war, younger readers are able to get an insight into war that most war books cannot do. Joey lives with and works for both English and German soldiers during the novel and is treated well by Englishmen and Germans alike. He is also on occasion mistreated by characters. Once again though, there are no distinctions between the trenches.

This is crucial to help children understand that in warfare, the soldiers fighting against British soldiers aren’t the ‘baddies’. They are doing their duty, just as the British are doing theirs. Of the many war novels I have read, none portray both sides of the trench quite as effectively as War Horse, and the fact that it is written for children means that it is a great starter for younger readers to understand war.

War Horse has all of the traits of a war novel and they are sensitively handled by an author very adept at writing about difficult issues. The most moving death in the book is not, in my opinion, that of any human, but of Joey’s companion and friend, the horse Topthorn. Joey is devastated by Topthorn’s death and risks his own demise by staying with his fellow horse's body. Once more, the innocence of the animals is exposed, highlighting the sheer futility of war. This senselessness is further summarised by a German soldier, believed by his comrades to be mad because he talks to himself and his horses. He says:

‘It’s the others that are mad, but they don’t know it. They fight a war and they don’t know what for. Isn’t that crazy? How can one man kill another and not really know the reason why he does it, except that the man wears a different colour uniform and speaks in a different language? And they call me mad!’

There can be no arguing with "mad old Friedrich" here. Ultimately, the man who is one of the most sane characters in the trenches is killed. Friedrich had to be claimed by the war; surviving would have lessened the importance of his words. War has no mercy and Morpurgo makes that clear with the man's death.

Overall, I believe that Michael Morpurgo’s War Horse is a fantastically poignant and important children’s book. If the country’s youth are to flourish and understand the world around them, instead of wandering aimlessly and ignorantly into their future, Morpurgo is required reading. His writing has a gentle, yet brilliantly important message behind it, and leaves the reader, whether they are children or adults (there are many people who are older who could gain a thing or two from War Horse) thinking about his stories for days after.