A review by subpolka
The Shining by Stephen King
It’s been a few decades since I read this book. I remember enjoying it in middle school** and since October has me feeling all Autumnal and spooky-like, the timing seemed right for a re-read.
(** This sounds like shade, but I swear it’s not. I was a moody, bookwormish type of adolescent and read a lot of King in those days. No blanket statements about his demographic intended.)
Anyway: I got about thirty-odd pages into this one, about midway through Watson’s monologue about the woman who overdosed in the hotel and her young lover, and remembered why I don’t read King anymore. I dig the hell out of his plots, but, man oh man, the writing style just GRATES.
And so, alas, this one is being set aside. Best of luck in that hotel, Torrence family; I hope everything works out well for you.
(** This sounds like shade, but I swear it’s not. I was a moody, bookwormish type of adolescent and read a lot of King in those days. No blanket statements about his demographic intended.)
Anyway: I got about thirty-odd pages into this one, about midway through Watson’s monologue about the woman who overdosed in the hotel and her young lover, and remembered why I don’t read King anymore. I dig the hell out of his plots, but, man oh man, the writing style just GRATES.
And so, alas, this one is being set aside. Best of luck in that hotel, Torrence family; I hope everything works out well for you.