Six oddball but brave children encounter the way of a immense and dreadful supernatural malevolence that has entered our existence from the outer limits of darkness. They are compelled to spend their lifetimes confronting it, enduring terror upon terror in the process.
This is the plot, broadly speaking, of Stephen King’s novel It (his best; no debate). It parallels of the celebrated author’s heir Joe Hill’s new massive horror novel, in which a close-knit group invoke the age-old, deeply sinister dragon the Dragon King from the Long Dark to assist them in vanquishing some baddies. Needless to say, their supernatural ritual goes awry.
Joseph Hillström King began his writing journey striving diligently to avoid any connection from his well-known dad, using the pseudonym he continues to employ and avoiding meeting his agent (he exhibits a striking resemblance to his parent). Yet with this recent release, he fully acknowledges it. There are lines that consciously reflect some of his father’s iconic (the famous Dark Tower introduction); a incident that evokes a recurring theme in King’s works (a battle of wits). In this epic story, Joe Hill takes pleasure in his heritage, and the audience revels alongside.
Back to those friends: the majority are pupils at the made-up this academic setting in this northeastern locale. We have Arthur, studious and intelligent, solving Old English riddles in his free moments; another key figure, affluent, astute, and prone to trampling those who oppose him; the twin siblings; the beautiful Allie herself. And there’s Gwen, who remains outside their academic circle, but emerges as crucial of their group as they dabble, somewhat credulous, half not, in arcane arts.
The protagonist finds himself, for reasons we don’t need to go into, compelled to pilfer prized manuscripts from his treasured institution’s archives by a bunch of local criminals. This devastates his scholarly soul, especially when he’s forced to acquire the collection’s foremost and chilling publication: the diary of practitioner this enigmatic character (condemned “for trafficking with the devyll in 1703”; the cover is made from his skin). These young investigators peruse the diary, realize they are able to call forth what the author references as a armoured devil” to aid our hero with his extortion dilemma – and occupy the subsequent narrative enduring the repercussions. King Sorrow will indeed rid them of those troublesome local drug dealers, but they’ll have to choose a fresh offering annually or succumb to the dragon’s wrath. In the character’s own words: “You plant seeds of destruction, all you get is more dragons.”
Moving through four decades, the author shifts with effortless ease through various literary forms: as the companions attempt to deal with the predicament they find themselves in by, through diverse methods, choosing undeniably wicked targets to immolate, or seeking means to destroy the entity themselves, we transition from suspense to dark fantasy, covert operations to love story to horror. One particularly memorable shift was to a adventure narrative, within the subterranean depths below Cornwall, a segment sprinkled with the Lord of the Rings author that was gloriously terrifying.
We encounter trolls – the classic variety and digital trolls, truly terrifying and superbly depicted. There are magical swords and treacheries, pulse-pounding sequences of valor and scenes of terrible wickedness, both human and supernatural. It’s a tour de force: a frightening tale that is chiefly a ode to the imagination, and to love and friendship. “We needed a story to believe and {now we’ve got one|presently we possess it|currently we hold it,” says the wealthy student as the companions sit around the table, making preparations to call forth their serpent into being with the force of their minds.
According to Joe Hill in his opening statement: “Hic sunt dracones”. Don’t miss them.