Six unlikely but brave youngsters fall into the path of a immense and terrible supernatural darkness that has entered our existence from the deepest abyss of oblivion. They must wage a lifelong battle confronting it, enduring terror upon terror in the process.
This describes the premise, in essence, of Stephen King’s novel It (arguably his finest; no arguments). It parallels of Stephen King’s offspring Joe Hill’s new horror doorstopper, in which a band of six summon the primordial, infinitely malicious serpent the Sorrowful Monarch from the Long Dark to assist them in vanquishing some antagonists. Needless to say, their otherworldly invocation has unintended consequences.
Joseph Hillström King launched his profession going to great lengths to distance himself from his well-known dad, adopting the nom de plume he still uses today and steering clear of encounters with his agent (he bears a uncanny likeness to his dad). But in this latest novel, he embraces it. There are lines that consciously reflect some of the senior author’s well-known (“The man in black fled across the desert …”); a incident that recalls a King plot point (a battle of wits). In this whopper of a novel, Hill is delighting in his heritage, and we delight along with him.
Back to those friends: most are students at the fictional Rackham College in Maine. There’s Arthur, bookish and intelligent, cracking historical enigmas in his free moments; another key figure, rich, astute, and inclined to bulldoze those who oppose him; the twin siblings; the beautiful Allie herself. Additionally, Gwen appears, who isn’t their classmate, but emerges as crucial of their band as they experiment, half believing, somewhat doubtful, in the occult.
The protagonist finds himself, due to circumstances beyond his control, forced into stealing valuable volumes from his cherished academic collection by a set of regional villains. This wounds his academic spirit, particularly as he’s forced to acquire the institution’s prized and disturbing work: the diary of adept this enigmatic character (put to death “for dealing with infernal entities in 1703”; the cover is fashioned from his hide). The intrepid group peruse the diary, discover they could summon what Crane describes as a “arrogant beast to aid our hero with his blackmail problem – and spend the rest of the novel reaping the consequences. King Sorrow will certainly eliminate those annoying regional antagonists, but they must select a fresh offering annually or succumb to the dragon’s wrath. As Arthur later puts it: “You invoke terrible forces, all you get is additional horrors.”
Moving through four decades, the author shifts with natural fluency across narrative styles: as the allies attempt to deal with the predicament they find themselves in by, through diverse methods, choosing undeniably wicked targets to sacrifice, or hunting down ways to kill the dragon themselves, we transition from thriller to dark fantasy, clandestine torment to love story to horror. A standout transition was to a adventure narrative, within the subterranean depths under the English county, a part infused with the fantasy maestro that was wonderfully frightening.
There are trolls – those living under bridges and digital trolls, truly terrifying and superbly depicted. There are magical swords and treacheries, pulse-pounding sequences of courage and instances of terrible wickedness, both mortal and otherworldly. It stands as a masterpiece: a horror novel that is chiefly a tribute to the human inventiveness, and to love and friendship. “We needed a story to believe and {now we’ve got one|presently we possess it|currently we hold it,” says this character as the allies gather at the table, preparing to summon their dragon into being with the force of their minds.
According to Joe Hill in his opening statement: “This is dragon territory”. Do not overlook this.
A tech journalist and AI enthusiast with over a decade of experience covering digital transformation and emerging technologies.