As when a sick man, very near to death, seems dead indeed…
Don’t make the mistake of putting your heart near his hand.
Good advice. You did yourself ill to feel well of those to whom ill must eventually be done.
Remember your duty, Roland.
Stephen King, The Dark Tower II: The Drawing of the Three
Drawing of the Three picks up mere hours after the end of the previous book, where Roland, having established his gunslinging credentials by wiping out an entire town with just his guns, loses a couple fingers.
It’s a magnificently brave choice to incapacitate your protagonist to such a degree that they spend the majority of the book near death, having established what a hardy bastard they were in the previous book. It’s this choice that I think help defines the spirit of what the Dark Tower books are in terms of King’s writing. Though by 1987, King had firmly established himself as a horror writer, his early writing career still showed a variety and experimentation of tone and genre. It is only in the 80s that he has been more clearly defined, but this little series King was cultivating for his Constant Readers (in his afterword, he has clearly planned out the next two books too) still keeps that spirit of experimentation and invention alive that is not too often credited to King.
Drawing of the Three establishes this fully as a series where King gets to play about outside of the expectations of his audience. I adore Gunslinger, and think that in the main it stands up as its own weird literary work. But though this is nailed onto the ending of that previous book, it stylistically feels more like King’s usual style and may appear to be an easier jumping on point as a result. However, Tull, the man in black and Jake are spoken of frequently without much explanation, so that I imagine a reader jumping in at this point could be confused what is going on. And there are enough unanswered questions in this book that, though this is a rollercoaster of a read, it feels truly like a section of story taken from a larger whole. The story of Jake is the prime example of this. With Jack Mort’s death before he has an opportunity to kill Jake, as established in the Gunslinger, there is a hint of grand, paradoxical repercussions that aren’t addressed in this book, and wouldn’t be for another four years until The Waste Lands was released.
The lobstrosities, Balazar and Jack Mort are ostensibly the villains of the book, but are dealt with so efficiently by Roland that to focus too much on them is missing the point. They don’t have the same impact a Pennywise, Randall Flagg or Greg Stillson have in their respective books, as the whole of those books are building to those confrontations. Drawing of the Three has its villains, but they are more obstacles along the path to the Tower instead. As a fan now, I get the luck of being able to read the whole series in one go if I choose to. But I can imagine the frustration you would feel if you read this as it came out. It ends, but it lacks finality because it is part of that longer journey to the Tower, subject to the whims of an author who’s priority isn’t this series. He knows the journey as a whole is important, knows the road he will walk to tell his story, and as such can take his time to build characters he knows we will grow to love. But it’s going to take seventeen years (and a near death experience) before we get that ending.
I think this is where the Dark Tower really gets its head of steam built, which is partly why the wait is so frustrating! We are introduced to Eddie and Susannah, and the book now becomes as much theirs as it was Roland’s before, and with them new aspects of the story to examine. In my Gunslinger essay, I expressed that much of that book was a story that was about the importance of stories. It was a major theme of that book, and it seems to be continuing throughout the series as a whole. The stories in this book help deepen our understanding of the new characters introduced here, but are developed in a different way. Instead, the focus is on the stories we tell not to each other, but to ourselves.
The first storyteller of the book is Eddie, and in his story he tells Roland of his childhood with Henry and how it was that he ended up a junkie. Eddie’s telling is more like confession where Roland happens to be listening, which works out well as Roland does not exactly have a degree in therapy. Part of what makes Roland an interesting character is how despite his intelligence and skill, he struggles at sympathy or empathy for anything outside of his quest. Roland intellectually understands and draws links between his own experiences and Eddie’s, as well as his former ka-tet, but fails to emotionally connect Eddie’s addiction story to his own addiction to the Tower and learn from it. It takes Eddie to point it out to him explicitly, and even then Roland doesn’t seek to investigate it too much. As we know by now, King was a serious addict at this point in his life, and the obsession he characterises both Eddie and Roland with over their respective vices feels very true to King’s own experiences. Eddie sees what happened with Henry no longer as a comforting story, but a destructive lie that dragged him deep into heroin addiction. He can see, or at least begin to see, the danger of his addictions and how his brother drove him to that. There is hope for recovery there. Roland is unable to come to that same point of reflection, but maybe can begin to learn that from Eddie realising the truth to his tale. Applying this experience to King may be taking it too far, but within both stories there is a truth spoken by someone who has experienced this personally.
Similarly, the Odetta/Detta sections continue the same idea of stories we tell ourselves. The dual personality, as much as I’m fairly sure that’s not how schizophrenia works, tells lies to themselves so that it can cope with the two selves/one body situation. Odetta and Detta cannot comprehend the other exists, and it is only when Roland forces the confrontation between the two near the novel’s close that they are forced confront each other and become one. Again, Eddie has recognised his faults and starts the journey to self-improvement, and similarly Susannah (combining Odetta and Detta) embraces those warring parts of herself to become whole. Yet Roland struggles to reconcile himself with his quest versus his love he feels for his growing ka-tet. In a smaller way, Odetta also tells Eddie the story of her scar. setting up the Jack Mort section later in the book. Roland can learn from Susannah’s strength in reconciliation, and these characters introduced here will help peel back the layers to Roland’s story as they grow closer together.
Jack Mort (Mort being a bit on the nose, Stephen) is an interesting subversion that, as he is a serial killer, he actively wants to avoid being the story. After all, he affects the stories of other people’s lives through the death and chaos he causes, but if the focus shifted to him it could spell the end of all that fun. Of course, this is exactly what happens to him when Roland enters through his door. Jack has played a part in other’s stories, so when Roland enters his mind he has no choice but to be a puppet in a story he is no longer in control of, much like his victims. Pure karma. Sure, Jack Mort goes down like a punk, but because he doesn’t recognise or engage in the power of stories, that’s as best as he deserves in the world of the Dark Tower. Roland, who up until this point has been a relatively cool character (at one point compared to the Terminator) begins to learn empathy and love in his hatred for Mort, fulfilling the promise of humanity that Jake had reignited in him in the previous book. It opens up Roland in a way Eddie or Susannah in their kind and understanding way never could.
The overall story of Roland continues to be fragmentary compared to those of his fellows. Cards are kept close to his chest, not spilling details unless he needs to. It’s not like Jack Mort, who doesn’t want to be in a story and fights against it; rather, Roland is not yet ready to share his story. As before in The Gunslinger, we get hints with mentions of Cuthbert and Alain, Walter and Farson, but nothing yet substantial. We will, in time, get those stories, but at this point it is not Roland’s time to share. But the addition of Eddie and Susannah give him the tools to allow that to happen, if he wants.
There are some other things I want to discuss before I wrap up this leg of the journey. Linking back to the idea of King making things so hard for Roland in the opening of the book with the loss of his fingers, I admire his choice of character additions. Eddie is a fun character, and his addictions could provide great sources of conflict throughout the rest of the series. But making Susannah a double amputee by no means makes Roland’s journey any easier, and King doesn’t shy away from the difficulties that her condition will present in the book, especially when coupled with Detta’s ambivalence to Eddie and Roland. Disability has not been so present in previous books, mostly presented through supernatural metaphor (Carrie, The Shining, Firestarter), but it feels like King is making a real effort for a different kind of representation lacking in his previous books. It is something I will read with great interest.
Which brings us to Detta Walker. King is no stranger to ethnic minority character representation in his books, though not to a great degree or all that well at this point. Main black characters include Dick Halloran of The Shining and It, Mother Abigail in The Stand and Mike Hanlon also of It. None of these I would say were too great (with two of those three being examples of the Magical Negro), nor as well developed as characters compared to others in their respective books (and in the case of Mother Abigail, arguably the dullest character too). Despite that, I wouldn’t say King was racist in those depictions: simplistic yes, and the situations they are presented in have racism towards them (see The Black Spot sections in It for example), but not in themselves racist depictions. Characters experience racism is not in itself racist. There is love and good intent in King’s depictions of these characters and their experiences. But it is uncomfortable to read at times, in part because it is a white man writing it.
When we first meet Odetta, we read about her thoughts concerning the Civil Rights Movement as it existed in her time, and there is a certain amount of guilt she exhibits as a rich black woman going on marches alongside poor black people who are fighting for their rights. She may be disabled, but she has means to live her life comfortably and quietly, mostly out of the way, ‘one of the good ones,’ among other rich, almost certainly white, folk. In sharp contrast, Detta’s vitriol is an expression of Odetta’s guilt, making white people feel guilt in a way that Odetta doesn’t feel comfortable doing considering the ease of her life, whilst also expressing her anger at the various injustices she has faced. It is worth nothing that Detta as the second personality is a caricature of what Odetta perceives to be a lower class black woman through the filter of privilege she lives in. It’s an interesting dichotomy that I’m not sure I can fully explore from my own experience and understanding.
Metaphorically, King is playing with the Werewolf card he described in Danse Macabre, with each side of Odetta/Detta representing extremes of behaviour. It’s also worth noting that Detta is also the most competent villain the series has yet encountered, far more so than Balazar or Jack Mort. She’s really good at being bad. It is not inherently wrong to have POC villains, as POC are allowed to be evil too, and I would argue it’s not fair that to expect black or other ethnic minority characters to always be shining examples of their race. But King’s presentation of Detta feels uncomfortable not because of who she is but how her race is presented to the reader. Again, I recognise that to an extent this is a deliberate choice by King, but I don’t think he navigates his way entirely clear of the problems it poses. But would it better that he only ever sticks to what he knows?
It’s a knotty one, and not one I feel comfortable discussing too much as it lies so far outside my own experience as a white British cis man. It does form a fascinating aspect of the book though, and promises that Susannah might well be the most interesting character we encounter on the journey to the Tower. But that’s for next time.
Long days and pleasant nights.
Observations and Connections
Perhaps the biggest reference is to The Eyes of the Dragon, where Roland mentions meeting Dennis and Thomas from that book on their hunt for Flagg, who is mentioned for the first time in the Dark Tower. The Eyes of the Dragon ends somewhat on a cliffhanger regarding those character’s fates, and this acts as a capper to the story somewhat – after all, Flagg is said to have turned a man into a yowling dog. Though Flagg does not appear in this book, it firmly puts Dragon into the world of the Dark Tower, and keeps Flagg fresh in the Constant Reader’s mind. Can’t imagine why…
In a similar sort of link, paper is as valuable to Roland as it was in the Territories in The Talisman. It makes sense for that to be the case, as paper is where you record a story, and we know how important stories are in this series.
There is a reference to a character named Gienelli in the 1964 sections. Those with long memories might remember that Vittorio Gienelli, a mobster, would meet his end in the Presidential Suite of the Overlook in The Shining. Also, Thinner has a character called Richie ‘The Hammer’ Ginelli, also a mobster, which could be a relation I suppose. Or maybe King only knows one gangster name.
Eddie makes a comparison of the view beyond the doors to the steadicam shots from The Shining, a rare reference to King within King and similar to the Carrie reference in The Dead Zone.
During the 70s section with Jack Mort, the police overhear on the radio about Roland’s robbery in progress at the pharmacy being called in as a code 19, the arc number of King introduced fully in The Gunslinger (though with some appearances earlier). In addition, 3 is shown to be a powerful magic number that recurs all throughout the book in various ways, adding to the powerful numbers of 5 and 7 we learned of in It.
There is a confusing element concerning when book is set. First, Odetta thinks that it’s been three months since the assassination of JFK, which means it’s February 1964. Not much later, it’s stated that August 19, 1959, when she lost her legs, was five and a half years before; that means it’s February 1965. Even later, it’s stated that Odetta lost her legs three years ago; that means it’s 1962. Maybe that can be chalked up to her split personality scrambling her brain. But also, after the time travel to the 1970s, it’s first stated that Roland entered to Mort’s head at most a few weeks before he would’ve killed Jake; that means it’s 1977. Later, it’s said that a character saw The Terminator, which came out 1984, nine years later; that means it’s 1975. This is less easy to explain away. Probably just best not to think about it too much.
Speaking of Odetta Holmes, her name is probably a shout out to musical artist Odetta Holmes.
Finally, Roland describes hot dogs as popkins, meaning he, somewhat controversially, comes down in favour of classifying hotdogs as sandwiches.
UP NEXT: Be prepared to meet your No. 1 fan! It’s Misery.
OR
Continue to the Tower in The Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands
Deeper Thoughts for the Horror Inclined 