When you think of horror novels, there’s a good reason that Stephen King is one of the first names that come immediately to mind. After all, this is a man who made everything from sentient cars to rabid dogs into horrifying icons, relying on Boomer images to terrify generations and create more superstitions than Bruce in Jaws (1975). He’s someone who seems to have one of the most demented minds in popular fiction, and yet he’s also one of the most down to Earth writers, the nerd who did good, constantly recognizing the need for empathy in the world. I think it’s what makes his best work timeless, able to resonate for generations. Even in the face of fear, King gives you some optimism to end a harrowing tale.
Many would argue that the peak of this trend came with “IT.” With only two letters, he revolutionized one of the most common pronouns in the English language to make a towering magnum opus to his entire career up until that point. It would be a story spanning decades (and at points centuries) that explored the very definition of fear. When writing it, King argued that it was his final exam for horror, throwing every idea that he could muster into the text. The results speak for themselves because many would argue that it is his greatest accomplishment as a writer. Those passages are likely to rattle your nerves for years, questioning how humanity can feature such unwarranted abuse.
Though, if I’m being totally honest, it’s also one of his worst.
No, I am not calling “IT” a bad novel. It is more the idea that because of how expansive the entire experience becomes that you can’t help but notice the self-indulgence. Did the novel really need to be over 1,000 pages? Sure, as the ultimate King novel it’s almost expected. However, those who have read it will notice that for all of the highs, there are several winding detours that feel like they go nowhere, serving mostly as atmospheric jargon to make you feel like the city of Derry, MA is this horrifying, inhumane place. That is the point, but when you have side plots full of gay-bashing and racial profiling, it’s easy to get overwhelmed and consumed.
In a sense, “IT” can’t help but be the most King book because it feels like the mythic world-building that even manages to feel at times like a one-off story from “The Dark Tower” series. At the core is Pennywise the Dancing Clown, whose supernatural and psychological capabilities have this unnerving quality. He embodies your biggest fears, able to cripple you with a simple transformation, finding a weakness that you can’t armor against. How do you defeat this monstrosity? It’s a force that populates the town, and it explains why Pennywise is easily King’s most recognizable character.
If you tore away every superficial detail, Pennywise symbolizes trauma. The central characters, who come to be known as The Losers Club, all have some form of abuse in their lives. It’s the struggle of negligent parents, being an outcast, or even overweight. So much of the story stems from these universal struggles that kids face, and yet cannot escape because they’re part of their identity. It may be why one of the earliest chapters features an arguably inconsequential scene where a homosexual is murdered. King makes it work because he uses it to set up ideas of the world, specifically in regards to Pennywise’s infatuation with red balloons, but it shows that this story isn’t about one protagonist. In some ways, we’re all stuck in our own personal Derry.
Then again, “IT” may have such a phenomenal reputation simply because it has one of the most daunting openings in the author’s career. As a paper boat goes floating down a rainy drain into a gutter, we’re introduced to Pennywise. Unaware of his potential to harm, he seems a bit too nice. Immediately we’re questioning why he’s down there, but we’re second-guessing ourselves because he is so nice to Georgie. For all we know it could be a mishap and that this strange man just had a bad day. It’s ominous, especially if you don’t know what comes next. Then, in a moment of vulnerability, the trauma that kickstarts the remaining 980+ pages is executed.
What may be more terrifying is that King does what all of the horror icons of the decade seem to do: he focused on children. They’re much more hopeless and have to find ways to convince the older generations of something that exists underneath Derry, symbolic of the foundation of this very town. It’s the perfect way that evil can blind the world, not noticing the moral complexity of the actions. Would Georgie be alive if there was any adult there to help? Maybe. But as King will slowly reveal, these are personal stories that require self-reliance.
What makes “IT” worthy of reading is that it has most of the elements that make up a great King novel. Even his asides manage to disturb you in some small way, though with some distance you’ll just realize that these are exercises in subliminal fear. They exist mostly to put you on edge, filling you with as much anxiety as The Losers Club at the center. It also has, in all sincerity, one of the sweetest finales of any King novel. Without giving it away, it’s a conclusion to the trauma that finds the light at the end of the tunnel.
Though again, your appreciation for the pages immediately before may vary. The final stretch is a bit overbearing, and King’s desire to jump between The Losers Club as kids and then as adults does show a divide as to what’s valuable about this series. While there’s definitely some trauma to be acquired from adulthood, it’s something more recognizable. It shows how these characters have evolved and coped with their fears, including the obese kid becoming a fitness nut. It’s reflective of how we cope with our own insecurities, even as they continue to fester inside of us.
In what may be most reflective of his future in writing, King’s portrayal of Beverly is particularly complex. She’s the lone woman of The Losers Club, and as a result, the author gets to explore her insecurities of problematic home lives as a child and adult, the struggle to find self-worth, even while shoehorning in a love story.
Still, what makes Beverly particularly interesting for me is that it kicked off a new trend that would grow in the 1990s. While King started his career writing complex female characters with “Carrie,” it became more prevalent as he turned his attention to more feminist characters. One of the odder examples of this is in “Gerald’s Game,” where a novel that starts as S&M pulp becomes an empowering story of overcoming trauma. Much like “Insomnia,” you can argue that he’s painting the women as a bit at odds with the world, but he’s only grown to make them stronger, more capable of survival. Beverly wasn’t the first, but she felt like the most symbolic because we get to see her evolve over 27 years, which is more than you can say about the other examples.
But I suppose that I should get into what makes me see this as one of King’s worst novels. Much like when I wrote about “Insomnia,” I feel like he’s sometimes too self-indulgent on style and high-concept fantasy that isolates the reader. While I love his use of italics to convey internal and external dialogues, there are times when he’ll go whole pages with doing this, getting so caught up in a singular moment that the action feels grinded to a halt. Either that or it becomes overwhelming that you just want to get to the next development in the story. In some ways, it’s the perfect example of how inescapable this fear is, but there is a part of me that feels like “IT” could be more streamlined and have an even stronger impact.
But then would “IT” be King’s magnum opus? Would we think about it as this towering work of fiction that continues to inspire fear in his readers? That is an interesting thing. There are points in his career where you wish that he had an editor, someone who would restrain his ideas so that he doesn’t get lost in the detail. He is great at detail, but sometimes you have to ask if it’s necessary. Considering that he treated this as a “final exam,” you can understand why he felt the need to expel his soul of every idea.
Sure, some are more controversial than others (notably a plot point late in the first fight with Pennywise). However, I think it’s necessary for this to be as messy as it ends up being. Given that Pennywise is, by nature, overwhelming and uncontrollable, he has to be out of control and looming in these metaphysical ways. It’s something breathtaking at its best, as King perfectly encapsulates why we’re drawn to fear in the first place. That is what this evil clown symbolizes, something painted to look innocent but has danger hidden underneath. It’s all brilliant in how he makes everything have layers, hiding the sinister underneath an optimistic disposition. Even The Losers Club’s trauma feels like it’s hidden socially underneath a forced smile.
To be totally honest, because of its bulk and many detours, I don’t love “IT” as much as the general consensus. Somehow I feel like “The Dark Tower” has more of a focus when it comes to wild ideas that feel out of the left field. It’s a chance to indulge in the unknown and have character growth. Sure, they’re even more cribbed from other forms of media history, but they feel like celebrations of a world out of time. It has such a rich mythology that I’d love to get into one day, book by book. For now, I say that I like “IT,” but it’s sometimes too foul and grotesque for its own good.
Then again, you can feel like there was a significant change in King following the novel. At times in the future, his career began to center around more grounded narratives, of characters struggling in a realistic world. It felt like we were entering another phase of his career. It only recently changed again as he decided to begin exploring detective novels, turning his attention to the horrors of murder and the mystery of a criminal’s soul. Of course, that’s when he’s at his best. When he keeps moving forward, challenging his identity as a writer. “IT” being so overbearing needed to happen, if just to keep the inquisitive mind of a writer from ever stalling out, and I admire that about him. Sometimes writers need to pump out something that is curious nonsense to find a masterpiece somewhere even deeper.
Maybe one day I’ll explain my personal thoughts on the two “IT” adaptations, which I feel are both imperfect in their own way. For now, I will say that the Andy Muschietti version in its current form is a bit unformed and disappointing. Still, I love the idea of both films being part of a bigger epic, fulfilling the R-Rated epic that lies in the heart of the novel. I’ve heard that Muschietti wants to make a version more reflective of the novel, and I am here for that. IT: Chapter Two (2019) especially feels like it needs to be moved around into IT (2017) to have its full impact. I know it’s flawed otherwise, but I see a better version of this. While I think that IT (1990) is whatever, there’s no denying that Tim Curry may be the better Pennywise and has some appeal that a non-TV miniseries likely would’ve done better. If nothing, I like that he feels less like a digital effect by the end.
But for now, I say that “IT” does some incredible work. When was the last time that a creator made art that altered our perception of a two-letter word? Not only that, but a word that is so commonplace, spoken for millennia, and now can get those in the know to provide a cheeky laugh. Whatever the case may be, this is King unveiling every perverse fantasy that he’s ever had, and it’s as wonderful and disturbing as it is confusing. In some ways, we’re getting a deep dive into his psyche with this one. Then again, it’s easy to believe it’s great because of how it begins and ends. It’s so memorable that he’s never come close to matching its impact. There’s still time, but for now, he makes every storm drain in your neighborhood difficult to walk by. That’s quite a feat.
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