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A review by brackenmacleod
Gwendy's Button Box by Richard Chizmar, Stephen King
5.0
Stephen King and Richard Chizmar have written a tight, compelling character study of an empowered child. While the book is clearly a spiritual sibling to Richard Matheson's "Button Button," the question asked here goes further. In "Button Button" a married couple are given the choice of receiving a large sum of money in exchange for pushing a button that will kill a complete stranger somewhere in the world. If they choose not to push, no death, no money, and no more button (for them, anyway). Here, Gwendy is given a similar box (perhaps by the Devil, or someone like him), but with an array of buttons that are mysteriously tied in to the entire world, and a final one that will do whatever she wants. Though, the heavy implication is that it won't sprout flowers and butterflies if she pushes it. That final button still has a grim purpose. It's her darkness given form. The task given to Gwendy is not whether to push a button (though she realistically struggles with that), but the mere safekeeping of the box. Like Tolkien's ring, tremendous potential has been entrusted to a small person possessed of no dark motives. Yet. She's an innocent given the power to perhaps end it all if she'd like.
Again, like Matheson's tale, this is a quiet story without cataclysmic bombast. It centers on Gwendy's internal life and the emotional effect that the box has on her. And this is where it really shines and becomes wholly original. Unlike Matheson's story, it's not about asking the simple moral question of avarice versus humanity. Gwendy--and if you've read the interviews, this is ALL Chizmar's doing--posits the thematic question, "what if you gave a struggling child the power to be everything she wanted to be?" Would she rise up, or lay us all low?
On the surface, it's a story about a magic box that gives out money and chocolates, and maybe can destroy the world. But deep down it's about a child who is allowed to have control of her life, and the choices she makes when she doesn't have to fight as hard to be the person she dreams of being. Is the box a corrupting influence, or an empowering one? I won't spoil it. But I will say that this is a mature story about trust. It clearly asks and answers the question, can we trust the next generation with the fate of the world?
If this is an indication of how well King and Chizmar work together, I sincerely hope they collaborate again.
Again, like Matheson's tale, this is a quiet story without cataclysmic bombast. It centers on Gwendy's internal life and the emotional effect that the box has on her. And this is where it really shines and becomes wholly original. Unlike Matheson's story, it's not about asking the simple moral question of avarice versus humanity. Gwendy--and if you've read the interviews, this is ALL Chizmar's doing--posits the thematic question, "what if you gave a struggling child the power to be everything she wanted to be?" Would she rise up, or lay us all low?
On the surface, it's a story about a magic box that gives out money and chocolates, and maybe can destroy the world. But deep down it's about a child who is allowed to have control of her life, and the choices she makes when she doesn't have to fight as hard to be the person she dreams of being. Is the box a corrupting influence, or an empowering one? I won't spoil it. But I will say that this is a mature story about trust. It clearly asks and answers the question, can we trust the next generation with the fate of the world?
If this is an indication of how well King and Chizmar work together, I sincerely hope they collaborate again.