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.
There are many places that one would expect to find The Master of Horror. Cosmopolitan Magazine is not one of them. Every other previously published story in “Night Shift” comes from a horror outlet, favoring the grotesque discomfort over anything worthy of placing alongside make-up tips and dating advice. Long before he became a regular columnist for Entertainment Weekly, he had an intimidating presence, the likes of which make this detail more amusing than any joke he’s told in this anthology. It’s not to say that women don’t have nightmarish experiences, but this is comparatively mundane to what’s come before. It feels toned down, relying more on the psychological than visceral horror. It’s there, but the reason it lingers is that it’s the most transparently human thing he’s written so far.
Stories like “The Boogeyman” and “Quitters, Inc.” have reflected a more human side of King fighting with personal demons. He does an amazing job of making the body feel claustrophobic, shocked by the choices that they’ve made to land in such horrific positions. In the case of “I Know What You Need,” he continues to show the overwhelming nature of manipulation, this time through a more compromised position. The aforementioned stories have figures who have developed a cozy life. Meanwhile, protagonist Elizabeth Rogan is still in college and dealing with the dating life. Everything is ahead of her… provided she can solve what’s wrong with her friend: the social outcast Ed Hamner.
Like the best of his works, the story kicks off with a deceptively simple exchange that comes to hold deeper meaning as everything unravels. While Elizabeth is studying for her sociology exam, Ed notices she is stressed. This is where the titular phrase first appears, coming across as a disarming comment of friendship. She needs a break. Maybe ice cream will do the trick.
In a matter of pages, King has created a perfectly innocuous relationship between them. There’s the push and pull of ethics around the studying, with Elizabeth being more keen on not cheating. Ed is more of a loose cannon, a comic foil who makes sense as a college friend but doesn’t have much that sounds promising in his future. His presence is not yet ominous, though his desire to shirk duties is the first sign that he might not follow the rules. It can also be argued, even in its innocence, that “I know what you need” (especially when compiled next to the overbearing villains of “Quitters, Inc.”) is also way too affirmative. How does Ed know anything? It can be assumed it’s an inside joke among friends, but given that this is King, something is about to go down. Will the ice cream be Elizabeth’s downfall?
Compared to most stories here, King is taking his time getting to the first real twist. Nothing significant happens at the parlor save for the introduction of her boyfriend Tony. He’s a decent enough guy, though questions of where King is going with any of this remain up in the air. At this point, it could even be suggested that the exam is the central conflict, the moment where her entire life falls apart. As the later story suggests, it kind of is, but not because they decided to get ice cream. If anything, it’s the reality that Ed is a very insecure man and can’t stand to see Elizabeth adore a man other than himself.
Tony seems like the ideal boyfriend. Even if he’s pressuring her to get married, there’s a clear vision of a healthy and sustainable relationship going forward. However, things slowly fall apart in ways that feel closer to hallucinatory than practical. The summer weather worsens and causes her tips at work to dwindle. Meanwhile, he dies in a freak accident where a car’s brake line melts and runs him over. Following the traumatic event, Ed returns and becomes what could be described as the perfect boyfriend… at least at first.
A major reason this story works is how much King dwells on contemporary culture. At one point, they go to see The Godfather (1973) and discuss current events. These are figures who are more in tune with their environment, who have dreams of becoming something greater. They’re fairly convincing as far as young, fresh out of college, archetypes. If there’s an issue, it’s questioning whether Tony’s death will have a long-term impact on Elizabeth, and whether there’s something a bit more insidious going down.
The big twist is arguably one of King’s weakest points in the story. Given how many of his works focus on telekinesis, it’s a bit eye-rolling to find out that Ed knows what she needs because he has secret powers that give him an advantage in every situation. He’s even afforded a backstory in which he discusses his relationship with his father. It’s not a loving one, but instead focuses on the exploitation of his gifts in order to win money in gambling. At a young age, Ed was taught how to be valuable for his resources more than any instinctive love. It does plenty to provide an understanding of why he’s so deranged and antisocial at times. The only question now is if Elizabeth can escape in time.
The reason that this story works, and makes sense within the pages of Cosmo, is because Ed is the flawed boyfriend who has a sympathetic yet tragic backstory. He may be somewhat unruly, but there’s an understanding of how he became so detached. At the same time, Elizabeth feels like King’s vision of the readers: innocent women trying to find a man who has all of their faculties in place. The fear of losing that traction is enough to make the final third a compelling read, especially when asking how she can get rid of Ed. His telepathy may mean he’s serious that he knows what she needs, but the irony is that it’s not him.
Add in some voodoo plots, and the finale becomes a bit perplexing. Whereas most King resonates on a vulgar level, here it’s a question of whether Elizabeth knew what she wanted out of life. Ed claims that he killed Tony to save her from an unhappy marriage, but is that actually true? Ed, meanwhile, is a bit too manipulative for his own good, unable to process emotion despite understanding others’ nuanced opinions. It’s horrifying to find somebody with that level of didacticism. What’s even scarier is being stuck in the situation without a way out. Her choice to walk away and start over by tossing away his secret weapon – the voodoo dolls – is a sign that she’s finally freed herself of his magic.
For a story jam-packed with familiar ideas, King elevates it into a rare romantic drama that’s more meditative on intimacy than absurdism. There may be some over-the-top imagery, but it comes at the realization that most people spend their 20s dreaming of the perfect life. Ed is not the perfect husband, even with his extra invasive gifts. It’s up to the reader to decide if Tony was the better option, or if either of these men would matter to her by the time she was 40. Even so, this is the story of trying to keep The American Dream alive, where there’s upward momentum and safety in place to start a family. From the way she chose to study over leisurely activities, it’s clear that she had bigger aspirations than her peers.
It also works because it’s closer to the later stories King wrote. Every new reveal feels closer to the crime novels he wrote, where the shocking deaths have a practicality. They are tragic cases of irony, in this case punctuated as examples of the way life can be cut short. In Tony’s case, it was a literal event outside his control. For Elizabeth, she risked a similar fate not only because Ed had a voodoo doll of her, but because even in a marriage it would’ve been a manipulative one where she felt trapped, unable to escape at the risk of him growing hastier. This may be heightened fiction, but the emotionality feels in line with toxic boyfriends that many readers of Cosmo likely know a little about. King’s ability to write to this audience is a brilliant example of his secret compassion for the human condition. Despite how gross and unpleasant “Night Shift” has been, “I Know What You Need” cleverly argues why the bigger fears are the invisible confines of the mind.
As one can guess, the simplicity of the premise means that it doesn’t lend itself well for film adaptations. There have been two known versions, both Dollar Baby short films from 2005 and 2023. Despite being a story that’s fairly universal, it’s not one with as exciting of a premise. There’s been authors with more compelling stalker boyfriends or murder mysteries run afoul. Even in the world of telekinesis, he had already published “Carrie” and “The Shining” as more significant character studies. This isn’t to suggest these are the only reasons, but it could help explain why this slow burn works better on the page than expecting actors to play familiar toxic archetypes.
In a collection full of memorable characters, it’s nice to have some that feel grounded in something recognizable. With a few tweaks, these figures could exist in the real world. Men who were neglected by their parents emotionally are known to become unruly, disorganized adults. They find it difficult to connect even if they have strong intuition in other lanes. At the same time, this story perfectly captures the sense of aspiration and independence women in their early 20s are facing, believing that they can have it all. Sometimes it comes with the naivety of not choosing the right man, but who was the right man? As argued, it could’ve been neither. Even so, everyone in this story is vulnerable in a different way, and they all come together to tell a story that proves that nobody knows what the other needs. At most they have short-term answers that work for only so long. When another solution comes along, that’s when the trouble starts to appear.
Coming Up Next: “Children of the Corn”
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