Falling for Stephen King

My first visit to the library in my new little town was on my birthday, almost four years ago. I had no idea that I would walk into that library and fall in love—not with the library, though it’s a lovely, old place that smells of books and dust and years and has well-thumbed, often-read copies of my favorite children’s books. No, I fell in love with a writer and his work.

I had first seen a book by Stephen King at my aunt’s house when I was a teenager—a copy of “Pet Sematary.” I was intrigued by the odd spelling of “cemetery” and by the length of the book, but good Christian girls like me didn’t read Stephen King’s books—he wrote horror stories, for goodness’ sake. But on my birthday, in the library, I saw a big, thick book with a shiny red binding and picked it up. I read the title–“Lisey’s Story”–and then saw, in giant letters next to it, the writer’s name—Stephen King. I was disappointed and started to put the book back on the shelf, but as I did, I read enough of the blurb on the back to interest me in the story. I decided to check the book out of the library, feeling like I was committing some kind of sin—me, reading a book by the notorious Stephen King? I soon was. The minute I got home, I opened the book and started to read the first page. I looked up almost an hour later and couldn’t believe I’d been standing there reading for so long. And so it began—my literary love affair with the King of Horror.

Nothing about this new love made sense. I’m a sensitive soul, and I abhor the ugly reality of many parts of the world we live in. But I discovered that reading fiction about terrible people and places gave my overcrowded, often overly sensitive mind an escape because it made the real world seem so much less horrible by comparison. And I was fascinated by the mind of a person who could invent such winding, intriguing tales with heroes and villains who were often both grotesque and fascinating. I also loved the length of the books—Stephen King’s books are giant, you-could-use-them-as-a-murder-weapon tomes. And none of the writing in those giant tomes is unnecessary. King can tell a story, yes, but oh, can he write! I have plenty of authors who I love for their storytelling and many who I love for their writing—I love Stephen King for both.

The main reason I love him? I can completely disappear into his books. He allows me absolute escape from the real world. I adore so many authors and countless books, but it’s very rare for me to become so deeply absorbed in fiction that I can actually stop my always racing thoughts. “Lisey’s Story” absorbed me from page one, as has every single one of King’s novels I’ve read since then. Certain words and images and characters do push the boundaries for this good Christian girl, but I’ve learned that I’m adult enough to know what I do and don’t want to read.

And I definitely want to read Stephen King—because when I read, I want to escape. I want to encounter a great literary mind. I want my mind blown again and again by quality writing and storytelling that inspires me. I want to be entertained for hours on end. I want to explore new, creatively ingenious worlds and meet unforgettable characters. I want the Holy Grail of books—mind candy that is also quality writing.

How very fitting that it was on my birthday when I found the writer who could give me all of this, when that book with the shiny red binding called out to me—

“Renee, meet Stephen King.”

Happy birthday to me. . .