Nowadays, it’s easy to see Stephen King’s name and have a conceived notion of his legacy. He remains well into old age one of the most prolific authors of his generation, producing masterpieces that dig under people’s skin and recontextualizes fears we’ve long taken for granted. In this Short Stop series, I will explore a period before he was the icon we know and love. Even with a handful of bestsellers to his name, his status had yet to cement. That is why I’ve chosen to take a look at his first story collection, “Night Shift,” and hopefully get a glimpse into the writer taking shape, before his style was cemented into a cultural touchstone. Was he always the master of horror, or was there a simpler time when he was as messy and weird as the rest of us? All it takes is turning the page to find out.
One piece of praise that I would give this anthology so far is how consistent King’s success rate remains. I may fall on the less favorable side of the individual work, but as a horror writer, this first and foremost delivers on the fears of the everyday. You understand what drives him, and humanity has shone through even the most bizarre concept. I love how versatile he is early on and how capable he is of spinning everything into something personal. This is all to say that as I turn the final pages on “Battleground,” my first reaction to this is that the author has met his match. He has been bested by a bunch of toy figures. This story may deliver on the visceral, but this is by far, and hopefully remains, the worst story I’ve read so far in “Night Shift.”
Maybe this is a byproduct of expecting these stories to have more meat on their bones, but he has basically delivered the most streamlined cheesefest action extravaganza imaginable. It’s got plenty of grotesque imagery that convinces me King was at his typewriter with a goofy grin, just getting every impulse out. In that regard, this is a fun read that continually invents new kinds of perversity. And yet, there is no memorable character. The arc of survival lacks anything significant enough to invest in. This comes and goes without any deeper purpose. From a literary perspective, I get what he’s going for. And yet, having now thought of “The Boogeyman” for a few weeks and how well it hides darker secrets, “Battlegrounds” strikes me as a story without any permanence. If this wasn’t by one of the 20th century’s most recognizable authors, I’m confident I’d be doing less bending over backwards to act like this story is enjoyable.
For the first time in this column, another detriment is my familiarity with other art. Given that this is the study of toys coming to life and causing mayhem, my mind immediately went to Small Soldiers (1998), which has the benefit of being a feature-length movie but also a subversive study of how the military advertises to children (while, of course, selling Small Soldiers dolls at Toys ‘R Us). I was even reminded of a Twilight Zone episode where toys attempt to escape a Red Cross donation bin. To some extent, you could even apply The LEGO Movie (2014) to this metatextual dualism. This is well-worn territory that’s produced far more nuanced debates than what “Battleground” strives for. I admit this would still be marketable for a radical, over-the-top sensibility in the 90s, but again… I just don’t care about what’s going on.
With that said, the story kicks off with a reliable intensity. Over the short page count, King efficiently establishes character and tone by emphasizing the duties of Renshaw. He is a hitman returning from a mission and being met with one last hiccup. Just when there’s a sense of relief, he must navigate one final trap. He thought that he had solved every problem, but then his victim had left behind a footlocker. King treats this portion with a pitch-perfect tension that is reminiscent of bomb squads delicately trying to diffuse the situation. Curiosity abounds, and given that the story is still committed to its version of realism, the premise has endless potential.
Given that this story was published in 1972 by Cavalier, it makes sense that this continues King’s interest in Cold War paranoia by way of 1940s noir MacGuffins. This device could hold a darker secret where “the enemy” could violently ambush their opponent. For what it’s worth, King has a knack for cheekiness by suggesting that this footlocker contains toys that were packed by “Mom.” In a grander story, this might lead to a greater mystery, but, for “Battleground” and its brevity, this is merely a transition into the rest of the story.
Part of me misses the overcomplicated mechanics of “The Mangler,” which may have been banal, but added a defense against the perceptive helplessness. Here, it’s mostly an excuse to depict soldiers shooting at these figures and failing miserably. The juxtaposition of innocent toys hiding darker truths is cute, but it’s not doing much else with it. This is mostly a mission through a violent war zone that feels more plausible than it did in the 1970s. Given how tech advancements have made drone strikes more commonplace, this does have some plausibility of man versus machine, but it’s also ridiculously straightforward.
It’s a guilt-free pleasure of the most macabre ideas. It envisions war as being thrilling with a high mortality rate. There’s an endless imagination that comes through, and the only real savior is that he reveals that this is the imagination of children. The question emerges as to whether this is to suggest that the average youth has a perverse imagination and, if so, what is the greater point? Maybe it’s suggesting a duality in American ideology where it’s important to keep up appearances, but most people have dark secrets buried inside. For all of the efforts to keep a child’s mind pure, they may fall victim to manipulation a lot sooner than any parent could think. That, and the product endorsing violent behavior, may be contributing to the problem.
This may be a stretch, but given the timeline, “Battleground” may also be a commentary on the Vietnam War and the threat of the draft. While I think the child in question is too young to fit that bill, it still feels like he’s being indoctrinated with this imagery. With the news reflecting the violence overseas, there’s a dissociative factor that could keep the worst feelings closer to fantasy. America could still be seen as the great hero of global politics, even as attacks against it grew more and more sinister. The ability to dehumanize the enemy allows for the harm to seem more justified, and it’s only through ultraviolence that anyone understands the level of desensitization a bystander would possess.
There aren’t that many stories in King’s larger work that are directly about militarism. I’m sure he’s covered it in some form, but “Battlegrounds” seems like an odd duck because of how overtly it centers on the whiz-bang shoot ‘em up nature of war. He forgoes typical character depth, likely in an effort to make the protagonist seem more relatable and childlike. It’s fine, but the brevity works against understanding whether this is an endorsement or a condemnation. As a man who has shared many violent passages so far, it’s hard to believe he’s against the spectacle. And yet, I’m not unconvinced that he was ever in support of real-world war. If this is any commentary on indoctrinating families to militarism so that they’d one day enlist, it doesn’t build to a greater point. With that said, the use of Mom as an enabler adds a nice touch to juxtapose something maternal with the homicidal.
If I had to guess, I would’ve also assumed that this was one of his least recognized stories. I’m sure a Tom Clancy type would’ve done this a whole lot better. However, it has produced quite a few adaptations, likely inspired by the filler nature of action scenes, compensating for the anemic story. It appeared in a 2006 episode of Nightmares & Dreamscapes directed by Brian Henson and starring William Hurt, which is notable for not featuring dialogue. As predicted, it also has a longer ending that goes past events in the text. There was a Soviet Union version in 1986 that was an animated short directed by Mikhail Titov. Finally, a 1981 anthology called Darkroom used a similar premise but focused on a former Vietnam War vet. Not bad for being one of his flimsiest premises so far.
As a brisk read, there’s a lot to like about “Battleground.” It avoids providing too much story and just allows the reader to enjoy the perversity of violence. And yet, I’m left wondering if it achieves anything more meaningful. It’s fun, but does any subtext criticize in a way that resonates with the best of King’s work? I choose to say no. I’m sure it’s far more challenging than its surface looks, but what clues are adding depth to a more insightful read? This feels ephemeral, lacking the substance of even the lesser “Night Shift” stories. It’s good despite being filler at its finest.
Coming Up Next: “Trucks”
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