Misery - Stephen King Someday maybe I'll learn that starting a novel at 11:30 at night only leads to me reading until 3am. Now I may never sleep again.


One of the reasons I've always liked King is not for the terror he induces or the plots (which sometimes wear rather thin), but for the people. I find there to be nothing creepier than to crawl inside the mind of a psychopath. I can't imagine much more uncomfortable than being inside the mind of a man who is having his body mutilated by said psychopath. I see nothing weirder than crawling inside those inane phobias that we have as children.

When I was little and normal children were having nightmares of the monsters under their beds, I was having nightmares of men slithering through my window and throwing me in a sack to keep me in a room for their amusement. While I can barely remember what these amusements were, they were always gruesome (I was too young to go sexual). I think I've got some deep seated weirdness about what I find scary because as a kid I read a lot of fantasy where the hero was friends with the "classic monster" ie: dragons, dinosaurs, boogeymen, mutants, aliens, and the real evil lay in some bad guy, not the monster.

Plus, as an obsessive reader, there was a twisted part of me that actually saw eye-to-eye with Annie, the crazy "Number one fan," who kidnaps her favorite author when he drives off the road and breaks his legs and forces him to write yet another sequel to a series that he had attempted to end. We've all got those characters that if an author killed off, we'd be furious or depressed, or some combination of both, right? Right? That had better not be just me!


Between those points, yeah, this book was freaky as fuck. It hit all the right notes to keep me up late.