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A review by nilocennis
The Shining by Stephen King
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
You know the basics — recovering alcoholic Jack Torrance gets a job at the famous Overlook Hotel as the winter caretaker. He takes his wife, Wendy, and his son, Danny. Danny is a bright boy who seems to get certain ‘feelings’ that prove either insightful or prophetic. We learn from the hotel’s cook, Hallorann, that this is a certain gift some people have, which he calls “the shining”. People who shine are particularly vulnerable to seeing strange things at the Overlook, which has a sordid history and many secrets.
Then the family is alone in the Overlook for the winter, snowed in, with no way out. Strange things begin to happen, and Jack begins to want a drink very badly.
The Shining is the third book in the Stephen King re-read I’ve been doing. When I revisted Carrie, I spoke about the challenge of viewing it in vitro, absent the pop-culture scaffolding that’s been built on the back of the book and movie; how could one simply come to Carrie with no preconceived knowledge of the vengeful prom queen, drenched in blood?
This challenge is even greater with The Shining, which is far different than Kubrick’s film; many of the most famous scenes (the Grady Twins; the elevator of blood; “ALL WORK AND NO PLAY”) just don’t exist in the book, even though they feel like they might have been ripped right out of it. King’s book is a more character-driven work, the tension growing like cabin fever throughout the story. Wendy Torrance might as well be a different character, and Jack, while undoubtedly abusive, is less of an outright psycho from the beginning; he seems to genuinely want to overcome his alcoholism and anger issues, and we learn more about his own past and the circumstances that might have driven him in that direction. The Shining is in part a deeply personal familial drama, transported to a haunted hotel. While there are ghosts and drowned ladies in bathtubs, these things are almost secondary against the personal horrors within.
The Shining is a strange book for me. I think it’s the first book where King really gets his characters down; the scope is a lot smaller in some ways than with his previous two novels, and while I think Danny doesn’t work, Wendy and Jack are really tragically drawn, each trapped both physically and by their families within and without of their marriage, and while I like Kubrick’s film, it really is a travesty what he did to Wendy’s character. It’s also quite creepy in places; the sequence in 217 and the stuff with the topiary animals has always struck me as particularly great, but like with ‘Salem’s Lot, it stumbles a bit when it tries to get expository. Jack’s interest in the history of the Overlook is kind of the Hubert Marsten of The Shining; an effort to colour in the margins of the world that doesn’t hit as hard as it should or gets the attention it needs to matter.
I don’t think The Shining is quite as legendary as its made out to be, resting a tier or so below the top echelon of King novels. I respect how deeply personal the book seems to be — King’s struggles with booze and other substances are well-known — but I think it feels a bit like it’s trying too hard; like it’s the pulpy men’s magazine writer manifesting a more ‘literary’ novel (a sentiment we’ll return to in Misery), but still not able to shed his baser instincts (the way sex is written; basically all of Dick’s internal monologue). It’s clumsy and heartfelt and creepy and all of that makes it worth reading. I like it a lot, but it still doesn’t represent King at his very best.
Speaking of trying too hard, next up is Rage.
Then the family is alone in the Overlook for the winter, snowed in, with no way out. Strange things begin to happen, and Jack begins to want a drink very badly.
The Shining is the third book in the Stephen King re-read I’ve been doing. When I revisted Carrie, I spoke about the challenge of viewing it in vitro, absent the pop-culture scaffolding that’s been built on the back of the book and movie; how could one simply come to Carrie with no preconceived knowledge of the vengeful prom queen, drenched in blood?
This challenge is even greater with The Shining, which is far different than Kubrick’s film; many of the most famous scenes (the Grady Twins; the elevator of blood; “ALL WORK AND NO PLAY”) just don’t exist in the book, even though they feel like they might have been ripped right out of it. King’s book is a more character-driven work, the tension growing like cabin fever throughout the story. Wendy Torrance might as well be a different character, and Jack, while undoubtedly abusive, is less of an outright psycho from the beginning; he seems to genuinely want to overcome his alcoholism and anger issues, and we learn more about his own past and the circumstances that might have driven him in that direction. The Shining is in part a deeply personal familial drama, transported to a haunted hotel. While there are ghosts and drowned ladies in bathtubs, these things are almost secondary against the personal horrors within.
The Shining is a strange book for me. I think it’s the first book where King really gets his characters down; the scope is a lot smaller in some ways than with his previous two novels, and while I think Danny doesn’t work, Wendy and Jack are really tragically drawn, each trapped both physically and by their families within and without of their marriage, and while I like Kubrick’s film, it really is a travesty what he did to Wendy’s character. It’s also quite creepy in places; the sequence in 217 and the stuff with the topiary animals has always struck me as particularly great, but like with ‘Salem’s Lot, it stumbles a bit when it tries to get expository. Jack’s interest in the history of the Overlook is kind of the Hubert Marsten of The Shining; an effort to colour in the margins of the world that doesn’t hit as hard as it should or gets the attention it needs to matter.
I don’t think The Shining is quite as legendary as its made out to be, resting a tier or so below the top echelon of King novels. I respect how deeply personal the book seems to be — King’s struggles with booze and other substances are well-known — but I think it feels a bit like it’s trying too hard; like it’s the pulpy men’s magazine writer manifesting a more ‘literary’ novel (a sentiment we’ll return to in Misery), but still not able to shed his baser instincts (the way sex is written; basically all of Dick’s internal monologue). It’s clumsy and heartfelt and creepy and all of that makes it worth reading. I like it a lot, but it still doesn’t represent King at his very best.
Speaking of trying too hard, next up is Rage.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Domestic abuse and Addiction