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.
What a long, strange trip to the center of the most mythologized short story compendium that I’ve covered yet. Every story (so far) has had some sort of adaptation, while many have become calling cards for King’s larger career. That may be because it’s difficult to fully assess the work’s impact as it relates to late-1970s audiences compared to everything that came since. For this dedicated reader, it’s a very dated and uneven hodgepodge of works that have rarely blown me away. In fact, the previous story (“Trucks”) was an abysmal hole in the ground whose film adaptation is more fascinating than any page or paragraph that he assembled for the original text. Given this is the 10th story, a certain groove must be developed by now. If nothing else, “Sometimes They Come Back” should be that jolt of life after settling into a pattern.
At first blush, the 45-page execution doesn’t bode well. As someone who disliked “Jerusalem’s Lot” and found its page count self-indulgent, I was nervous that this would be more of the same. Maybe it’s that “Trucks” felt like a flat tire after two potholes, but expectations were low. Given that it centered around another third-act supernatural save, I was ready to roll my eyes and write yet another pan. That is how things started, at least. What ended up happening was the biggest sigh of relief possible. While “Sometimes They Come Back” is far from my favorite, it’s one of the most human and complex stories since “The Boogeyman.”
A major reason may be the simple relatability between the author and the text. Along with being a master of exploring the mid-20th century working class, I have loved how he channels real anxieties into allegories, whether they be parenthood or addiction. In this case, he’s digging into the mundanity of being a teacher. The bloat subverts his page-turning nature by allowing the reader to recognize the subtlety of a meandering profession. As the story progresses, there are still stretches where it feels like pulling teeth, where the students have a realistic malaise. It builds an atmosphere that will contrast nicely with the slow-burning mystery that finds the past emerging with some haunting truths. The devil is in the details, and most will have forgotten to look for clues by the time they become relevant.
The protagonist is Jim, who in 1974 takes a job as an English teacher. He seems to live a decent life, but something seems to be bothering him after Christmas break. As new students enter his life, he becomes perplexed by Robert Lawson. He chalks this up to a traumatic experience involving a figure of uncanny similarity. At 12 years old in 1957, a group of greasers murdered his brother. Add in a contemporary hit and run involving another student’s brother, Robert slowly becomes his fixation. When more greaser students named David Garcia and Vinnie Corey join his class and strike a similar chord with him, he decides to dig deeper.
There are obvious reasons why this can be chalked up to a coincidence. For starters, Robert Lawson is a child. Any bully would have matured over 17 years. Even still, the thought haunts him. King knows how to dig into the tense uncertainty that dwells in Jim’s mind. It leaves doubt as to whether the student is some mythical figure or if he’s losing his mind. After all, he’s a new teacher who is seeing dozens of students every day. There’s always a chance that somebody shares a similar face. Given that he also refuses to tell his wife, the turmoil slowly ostracizes him from loved ones and allows for any slow-paced turmoil to feel as nerve-racking as the zippiest page-turner.
Again, the story’s best feature is how banal long stretches are. His interpersonal affairs at work and home reflect the ways that his long-term trauma is ruining his life. It’s a feeling that comes across as genuine. Even if what follows is a dive into some off-the-wall hijinks, the setup captures the dark side of nostalgia while highlighting how even with the best of intentions, it’s sometimes near impossible to break free of the formative nature of youth.
Instead of taking the easy route where Jim is hallucinating, King goes further into the supernatural. The wrinkle is not without intrigue, especially as that 17-year gap still raises interesting questions as to why Robert looks the way he does. Tying into his later fascination with detective stories, he has Jim call around looking for answers. There’s the familiar push and pull, providing enough information and ambiguity to keep the reader hooked.
Given that he has anecdotal evidence from other students about the greasers’ poor behavior, he turns to his police friend Donald Nell. The conversation turns grisly as the three boys he’s thinking of all died in a police chase where they ran into a telephone pole and were electrocuted. The situation is comically over the top and deliciously dark. A more traditional demise may have been just as disturbing, but King’s ability to find creative new ways to make people suffer is why he’d become one of the most in-demand authors of his generation. It also feels campy like those old 1950s troubled teen dramas. They couldn’t go out small, no. Everything needs to be BIG.
Ironically, things continue to get worse for Jim the longer these boys are in his life. Despite not wanting to involve his wife, she dies in a taxi cab incident. The desperation is unbearable. That may be why Jim’s willingness to give a last resort supernatural attack isn’t as obnoxious as it could be. He’s driven to an irrational desperation, and that includes the bizarre decision to consult a book of spells. He rips off his index fingers and pours out blood to conjure a demon that takes the greasers to hell. In a rare moment of positive irony, the demon takes the shape of his brother, creating closure as he gets his revenge on the people who have tormented him for decades. The only issue? As the title suggests, things might not be over. Sometimes they come back.
I’m not sure the story needed to be as drawn out as it ended up being. There are portions that felt padded and existed to extend the mundanity to its breaking point. Even so, this is a story that has a surprising amount of naturalism for the “Night Shift” oeuvre. There are enough details to make the coincidence feel like a hallucination. Given how trauma can make the human mind grasp at straws, the impractical origins allow the paranoia to sink in naturally, growing worse with every day passing.
The only issue is that the shift is bizarre. Some of the symbolism works (notably the demon being his brother), but others left me wondering what King was thinking. Why the index fingers? Wasn’t there another way to challenge the living dead? Of course, that ignores how much his early works seem to be obsessed with digging into ancient texts and conjuring unknown powers beyond human control. In moderation, it’s a decent idea. However, the collective experience of “Night Shift” makes it difficult to not notice the tropes and impulses of a writer known for making it up as he went along. If there’s a difference, “Sometimes They Come Back” symbolizes a need to connect to the past in organic ways. It’s far from perfect, but at least it gets halfway to a brilliant conclusion.
Another odd detail for those familiar with his later work, the dead brother feels reminiscent of King’s own traumatic youth experience. When discussing his inspiration for “The Body,” he mentioned seeing a boy disappear out of his sneakers. While not a direct homage here, he’s clearly dealing with some unprocessed ideas in his head. That may be why this feels shockingly tender and innocent compared to other misfortunes. It’s a study of lost childhood innocence that may be on the nose in a lot of ways, but is given due diligence. Also, while not a carbon copy, the idea of not seeing the bullies for 17 years feels reminiscent of an idea he’d do better in “IT,” where the demonic clown appears every 27 years instead.
The story first appeared in Cavalier in March 1974 and, like everything else, quickly became part of the adaptation cycle. Tim Matheson starred in a TV movie version in 1991. While other works were planned, it remains the most significant version for a few reasons. This includes that it spawned two sequels: the humorously titled Sometimes They Come Back… Again (1996) and Sometimes They Come Back… for More (1998). The concept that this would be a franchise feels on par with the John Rambo saga, falling further and further into action cinema overkill since the original was about a very real and sincere idea. Sure, King’s work might not look like the most precious work, but it did finish with a sense of closure that makes the ambiguity more satisfying than realizing this guy has a lot of skeletons in his closet.
For all of its flaws, this ends up being one of the high points in the anthology so far. By digging into the human emotion and allowing it to exist outside the supernatural components, it becomes a story rich with a dread that’s more than horrifying imagery. It’s one of the rare instances where he allows the reader to feel engrossed in a moment without fear of cheap gimmicks. The paranoia is more real because it starts from a place of reason before going into complete madness. It’s not the greatest ending, but more fitting than stories like “The Mangler,” which use the exact same set-up with poorer execution. More than anything, this works as a proof of concept regarding his dramatic heft that would develop as the years carried on. It’s not the best, but a much-needed change of pace after several misfires.
Coming Up Next: “Strawberry Spring”
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