Observations and Connections
Presented here, story by story, is a quick review of each, any connections to the wider Stephen King mythos and more general observations. A basic understanding of the stories is assumed, and spoilers freely discussed.
Autopsy Room Four
Though not nearly as grim as Survivor Type, this put me in the same mind in that King is clearly cackling like a loon as he is writing the story, especially as he reaches the punchlines. King openly admits to this being his version of an Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode called Breakdown. This story truly is a fun little tale, slight but tense and funny in equal measure. Due to King’s method of ordering his stories this time around, we break with the tradition established in Skeleton Crew by not opening with the longest story. This is actually one of the shorter stories present in the collection! If anything, I think this works to the collection’s favour. The Mist is a fantastic piece, but Dolan’s Cadillac dragged on and lacked the same tension. Here, we are eased in with a quick kiss of a story into the rest of the collection.
The story is set in Derry, which first appeared in It as well as numerous stories afterwards. When I first read this, I had read It, and was confused – didn’t that town get destroyed? In any case, though first published in 1997, the main story is set in 1994, probably after the events of Insomnia. The main character, Howard Cottrell, is noted as living in Mary Mead, a place that split off from Derry at some point. Speaking of Howard, this is a truly deep cut reference (and maybe a coincidence), but there was a character by the same name in The Shining, who appeared briefly to give Halloran some mittens. Is it the same character, or is it a Patrick Hocksetter situation again? There’s no evidence to suggest either way, but it’s fun to think about at least.
The Man in the Black Suit
After the black humour of the previous story, this is a fairy tale to chill the bones. This is genuinely a scary little tale, and one that has lived in my my memory years since having read it. The image of the Man swallowing and cooking a trout in his mouth has lived on so much so that that I feel I could have done a fairly decent job of writing this story again, beat for beat, from memory.
The story itself feels like a true example of American horror. The folky manner in which it is told, like a warning around the camp fire adds to the atmosphere, and the religious undertones make it especially powerful. It’s a story about mortality, coming as Gary still grieves over his brother’s senseless death and fears the coming of the Man in the Black Suit once again as his own time draws to an end. There is hope, but it seems like it is losing out to the fear and panic that draws in on the last days of a very old man. There is not a note wrong in this story. Even the ‘biiiiig fiiiish,’ which could so easily slip into parody, amps up the horror. King is firing on all cylinders with this one, which is reflected not only its publication in The New Yorker, but also winning a prestigious O. Henry Award too.
Our lead character is a writer, probably a columnist, having written for Castle Rock’s Call for many years. Though the story is set in a place called Motton, we are in the vicinity of Castle Rock, which was first introduced in The Dead Zone before being King’s most visited fictional location.
The Man in the Black Suit is definitley supposed to be the devil, and I am happy to accept that, but there is a fun in speculation. Preying on children, seemingly feeding on fear and a imperfect shape sounds similar to Pennywise. The year 1914 doesn’t fit with the patten of Pennywise’s waking periods, the closest being 1906 when the Kitchener Ironworks exploded. It could also be Flagg, the Walkin’ Dude, in one of his nastier forms. It may even be Gaunt from Needful Things, come to scope the town out before he settles for a spell in the aforementioned book. Gaunt was actually intended to be the devil, so it would make sesne that way.
All That You Love Will Be Carried Away
One of King’s non-horror efforts, and more literary, which may give someone pause if they were to read it. But like the previous stories, this is one that forever changed how I think. Whenever I need to go to a public toilet, I always take note of the graffiti around me, noting how someone has spent the time to sometimes write witty, sometimes gross, sometimes sexual, sometimes racist, sometimes glorious things on the wall of a toilet stall. Pointless things that in a small way prove that once upon a time, a person existed here and they made their mark.
In a way, I this story is King mourning a type of American living that he grew up with. The main character, Alfie Zimmer, is a travelling salesman, and I don’t really know how much that exists anymore. Even an Avon lady puts a note through the door so you can contact her separately, and the internet has all but killed that kind of selling. Whether it is better or not is immaterial. Instead, I think he is mourning a type or person who, much like the notes scrawled on a tile of a public toilet, makes a brief impact on the world, registers a presence with a person, and then is gone again. Alfie is a ghost of a way America used to be, and even the ghost will soon be gone.
The distant farmhouse is interesting, almost like the light at the end of the pier in The Great Gatsby, representing a distant beacon and at the same time a modernity that Alfie isn’t sure he can be part of. Yes, it is a farmhouse, but the family in there is microwaving a meal, the boy plays on his GameCube, the daughter reading a modern children’s author. The world has moved on. Is this salvation, or another piece of damnation?
It recalls some of his earlier stories in tone, including most notably Roadwork, especially the implication that he has been depressed for quite a while and suffering in silence. The ambiguity of his suicidal thoughts, being eked out of a world that no longer requires him, is one of great melancholy, and I think King mourns that world too. I hope Alfie is okay.
The Death of Jack Hamilton
Different and yet similar to the previous story, this one also is about the death of a kind of America. Criminals used to be romanticised, like Robin Hoods of America. The truth is often far more grimy and nasty, but then those kind of stories don’t make myths. King has long been fascinated by criminals and the mafia, going as far back as The Shining, but this time with the iconic and very real John Dillenger. It’s bordering on fan fiction, especially when taking King’s note at the end of the story into account. It’s a fun tale that does exactly as the title promises, and King again mourning a little piece of America that really has disappeared except from the history books.
In the Deathroom
A real throwback of a story for King – this would not have been out of place in Night Shift alongside the likes of The Ledge or Battleground. It certainly would have been published in something like Cavalier to say the least. It’s the kind of hard boiled men’s fiction that I think King, to an extent, wishes he could write all the time. It’s fun and slight, lacking the historical myth-making and heart the previous story. It won’t linger in the memory however.
It is notable that this was first published as an audio only story alongside two other stories in this collection, 1408 and Lunch at the Gotham Café. They were all read by King for an audio collection called Blood and Smoke, where each story was about blood, naturally, and smoking, hence the importance the smoking plays within this story.
The Little Sisters of Eluria
I’ll admit, when I read this back when I was younger, I had no idea who Roland was or what the Dark Tower was, and it left me a little cold. Revisiting the story this time around (and especially with the weight of four Dark Tower books, not to mention all the connected stories), I enjoyed it a lot more and can appreciate the little slice of Dark Tower on its lonesome. For readers unfamiliar with the Tower series but with designs on reading them, I wouldn’t suggest starting with this story before anything else; The Gunslinger is still the place to start. It’s more of an extra, outside of the core seven novels, much like the later released interquel The Wind Through the Keyhole. Considering the references within, it’s probably best enjoyed after book four.
For a brief excursion back into the world of the Tower, it’s interesting to read this as it is so wildly different in tone to the rest of King’s stories contained, feeling more alike to The Gunslinger even than later Tower books. As someone who’s favourite Tower book is still that first one, it was quite nice to dive back into that style in addition to that world. It expands the world, and gives a bit more insight into Roland, especially coming after Wizard and Glass. He’s not quite the cold and ruthless man who stopped awhile in Tull, but it’s a man who has weathered a lot.
Naturally as a Dark Tower story, this has obvious links to the series. It’s a prequel to the main series, set before The Gunslinger but after the flashback sequence from Wizard and Glass. He mentions needing to buy another horse, or maybe even a mule, which explicitly ties this to the opening of The Gunslinger where he does indeed have a mule. The Slow Mutants in this story are the same kind that plagued Roland and Jake beneath the mountains in the first book.
In addition, the Little Sisters and their tent-hospital appeared previously in Black House. Technically, Little Sisters was published before Black House, but was collected here afterwards. Depending on the order you read them, their appearance in Black House is either foreshadowing or a fun reference. Or if you never read this, completely anomalous. King’s notes suggest a link to The Talisman and the pavilion where Jack sees the Queen of the Territories. If it’s the same set of tents, it further cements the link between All-World and the Territories.
Finally, the Little Doctors are also referred to as the can-tam, which recalls the term can-to used to describe the Low Men in Hearts in Atlantis. The term was first used in Desperation.
Everything’s Eventual
First published in 1997, the story was republished in the year 2000 in one of the most interesting ways. Though there is very little of Stephen King in the world of video games, the year 2000 saw the release of Stephen King’s F13, in an attempt to make the function keys on your keyboard spooky I guess. There is very little to recommend it, as it mostly consists of screensavers or casual games more suited to mobile games or web browsers. This trailer is probably as much as you want to explore. However, it did also bundle in a digital copy of this novella, so that’s fun. Though if you want a Stephen King video game, it’s best just to play something like Alan Wake or Control.
With regards to the story itself, it’s one of those interesting little tales that you’ll never quite predict what’s going to happen. Dinky Earnshaw is really interesting, quietly happy for so long and not realising the life he and freedom he has lost in exchange for the use of his powers. Sure he has a home and his needs are taken care of, but he has no real life except what he scratches out for himself. In this regard, it could be read as a metaphor for military service, when so many young people are preyed upon when their prospects aren’t too good.
At one point, Mr Sharpton calls Dinky a ‘tranny,’ in reference to him working for the Trans Corporation, but this does open it up to a Queer reading, even if King didn’t necessarily intend it. Having an older man and substitute father figure essentially groom a younger man into his service and trapping you in a life that is not yours to lead, keeping your transness quiet. His training in Peoria sounds a lot like they’re trying to do a bit of gay conversion therapy on him. Is Dinky trans? He might at least be genderqueer, and the text would certainly support the reading if you so wished. Either way, the section where Dinky is repeatedly referred to as a tranny becomes much funnier in the year of our lord 2024 than it was probably back in 1997.
Mr Sharpton is quite mysterious, and could be a representative of many different agencies. He claims the Trans Corporation, but that could just be a front. One of the more likely ones to link to within King’s universe is The Shop, which hasn’t appeared since Golden Years, but first appeared fully in Firestarter. However, the method by which Sharpton describes finding Dinky sounds like he’s using Low Men, which could tie Dinky into the Dark Tower. His powers are really unique, and remind me of the symbols used by the Low Men in Hearts in Atlantis. I wonder if there is any link there. Maybe he is a Breaker of some sort.
Also, there is a direct reference to King’s TV show Golden Years as a TV show within the fiction of the story, another one of King’s oddly meta references to himself that occasionally crop up.
L.T.’s Theory of Pets
When I first read this as a young teenager, I was somewhat mystified by this one. Older and hopefully wiser (taller, at least), I appreciate this one a bit more, especially as I write about this one with my wife asleep in bed next to me. It’s disguised as a funny monologue about pets and their owners, in fact concealing a melancholy tale about the breakdown of marriage and communication between two people. From the perspective of L.T., he really does seem to have loved his wife, though we never get to hear Lulubelle’s take on events. There’s an element about how men relate their emotional state, how they’ll make a joke of it rather than talk about they need help.
King performs this one live, and an audiobook version that exists is, rather bizarrely I think, a live recording. I prefer the ability to read at my own pace, doing my own voices and such, the ability to go back and check on something. Having said that, this is perhaps a story that might be better experienced with the author himself taking you through the story. The audience plays along gamely, and it brings the story to life that a page, I am willing to admit here, cannot quite capture.
In his notes to the story, King says Tabitha gifted him a Pembroke Welsh Corgi who he has grown quite fond of. Marlowe was the corgi at the time, but since 2014 has another corgi called Molly. Molly is a menace, and must be stopped.
The Road Virus Heads North
King’s short stories give him a good opportunity to write a story that has a simple scary idea at its core and further opportunity to melt the main character by its end. This is one of those stories, and an excellent example of it. The sharpened teeth and inevitability of the story gives a thrilling edge, but the whole conceit is ingenious. A slow chase where you get regular updates on your pursuers progress via a painting that shouldn’t move. In a way, it recalls HP Lovecraft’s Pickman’s Model or MR James’s Canon Alberic’s Scrapbook, where the horrific pictures are drawn from the life.
The idea of moving pictures is one King has explored in Rose Madder. In a fleeting reference, Richard Kennel is an author who is from Derry, which has a ridiculously high number of authors come from within that town’s borders.
The inspiration for this story comes from a real painting Tabitha gave Stephen for a birthday of Christmas (pairing it nicely with the previous story’s inspiration). His kids apparently hated it, claiming the driver’s eyes followed them around the room. So far as I can tell, King hasn’t shown what this picture looks like. Anyone who has a line of contact to King should get him to show it off. I’d love to see it.
Lunch at the Gotham Café
This is an interesting story, and on a first reading the most memorable thing is the encounter at the end with the insane maître d’ and the depiction of madness that comes with it. But reading the story now, it’s interesting the contrast between the maître d’ and his final descent into irretrievable madness to Steven’s almost total incomprehension at the end of his marriage. Steven’s final utterance of ‘eeeee’ is almost like him trying on madness as a solution to a world that seems to hate him. Madness is inevitable in a world that hates you, specifically.
It was originally published alongside In the Deathroom, and the prominence of cigarettes are important to note this time around too. King contrasts the failure of the marriage with Steven’s withdrawal from smoking. But after the maître d’s rampage, he is able to break both habits – the woman whom he still loved exposes herself to be quite vindictive, as well as the final rejection of his smoking addiction. In a way, he does break free (and there are hints in the story that Steven doesn’t descend into madness, at least not immediately). The positive spin is a bit of a reach, I admit, but I do admire how mean this story is. It’s similar to stories like The Raft or Children of the Corn in just how nasty the characters are to each other. It’s a bit American Psycho in that sense.
If there is a weakness, it could be argued that the portrayal of Diane is really nasty. The hatred she shows towards Steve leaves a sour taste in the mouth, and comes across really as hateful. But at the same time, the story is very much told from Steven’s point of view. Realism isn’t the reason for the season here, more a heightened unreality throughout the story that builds and builds to its creeeeescendo. We don’t get an insight at all of Diane’s perspective, a deliberate choice as we are trying to get a view on what drives this man to the brink of insanity. It’s an interesting character study of Steve for as much as it says about him within the story as much as it doesn’t say.
There was an adaptation made in 2005, which has a unique cast including Stephen King (as Mr Ring), Mick Garris and Steve Wozniak. It hasn’t seen an official release, but it sounds very interesting.
That Feeling, You Can Only Say What Is In French
Hell is what you make of it.
King is surprisingly sanguine about the story’s meaning in his notes, though he does offer his interpretation that Hell is in the repetition. I don’t disagree with him, but considering some of the other stories it’s interesting the marriage aspect is so much in play. There’s also the element where Carol is constantly on the verge of disaster, and every time is pulled back from the full horror of her fate to experience the mundanity. And there’s the guilt Carol feels over her abortion, and maybe feels like this is the Hell she deserves for the life she’s led.
It’s a really interesting story, and King gets to play with the actual writing with the repetition and variations. The funny thing, considering the story’s French feeling, was that I had no recollection of the story, and title doesn’t exactly scream about what the story contains. But as I was reading it, I literally got that feeling and it all come flooding back, which certainly gave the story a different flavour!
1408
There are elements of King’s writing that are arguable repeats. Christine is not King’s only Spooky Car story, and some may look at 1408 as King revisiting the concept previously explored in The Shining. But though the Overlook Hotel was evil, it was populated by ghosts. 1408 is more simply a very evil room, with no cause or reason for why it does what it does. It just is nasty, a bit like Crouch End and its thin places. I particularly like the madness mantras chanted by the phone, which defy any sort of rational explanation. What’s especially fun is how King is purely here for a good, scary time. The movie version expands upon the original, and though there is much to enjoy about the film I admire the purity found within this story.
One of the interesting aspects of this story is that we have actually seen an early draft of this story appear in On Writing. King didn’t necessarily intend to finish it, but enjoyed what he had written so much he felt compelled to finish it. It does provide an interesting and rare insight into King’s process.
Riding the Bullet
In his introduction, King recalls an earlier effort of his that covered a similar theme of grief in a story called The Woman in the Room from Night Shift. I would also draw attention to the Bachman novel Roadwork. The key difference with this story is that this one explicitly has a supernatural element.
King has wrestled with his guilt over his mother’s death it seems for a long time, though the poverty he was experiencing is more than enough reason for why he couldn’t help as much as he could. The guilty party is the health care system, but that doesn’t really do much to assuage King’s guilt. It’s especially interesting, as despite George’s choice, his mother still lives a long life. Yes she does die – but so do we all eventually. I really enjoyed this as a choice from King. It gives the story an interesting (and from George’s persepctve, tortuous) ambiguity about how much of a role her played in his mother’s death. It plays with the idea of the classic Hitchhiking Ghost story, but instead of coming home to a death comes to a very much alive mother. King is having a bit of fun with the expectations, which elevate what could otherwise be a fairly rote story.
One of the interesting questions the story doesn’t ask, but is in a way implied, is the mother’s perspective. If she was asked who should take the ‘death ride’ between her and her son, I think a motherly instinct would kick in.
This story is an interesting twin to the unfinished The Plant, in that both were early experiments in e-publishing. This one came first, but this was released by the publisher instead, meaning they got a slice of the takings. The Plant was King on his lonesome, and received the lion’s share. An interesting historical note for the story, but doesn’t affect it in any material way.
Luckey Quarter
A very short to finish the collection, the barest hint of supernatural happenings. I feel like it’s one that I’m missing something, and because of King’s method arranging the stories, it ends the collection in a less than substantial way. It’s placement perhaps giving it more weight than it necessarily deserves. I don’t hate it, but it didn’t really do anything for me. It’s not out of place in general with the collection, but not a strong ending overall.
And that’s it! For a more general overview of the whole collection, click here.
UP NEXT: The next instalment in King’s informal ‘Spooky Car’ series, From a Buick 8.
Deeper Thoughts for the Horror Inclined 