Really didn't take very long to sink back into this one. 78 pages and five chapters in and I imagine every five or so chapters is a nice little chunk with which to write an update. Also, it probably makes Cam look bad, to be so prolific while he is being a schlub.
I realize, sort of in hindsight, that I've never read anything else by Peter Straub, and thus am having a certain amount of difficulty differentiating between his and King's prose. Still, say one thing about the Talisman, say there is some fine pieces of writing in there; the Arcadia Funworld a "heart between beats", and a woman with "piled-up hair", that sort of thing.
Anyways, so enter Jack Sawyer, a twelve-year old surrounded by death. And if death through the eyes of a twelve-year old isn't heavy enough, there are other worlds out there, and talking seagulls, and shapeshifting Strangers, and cancer. Looking back, I don't think I really dug the expository "Jack Lights Out" part, before he flips into the Territories for damn good. Nowadays it's a little different - something about dating a single-mom makes peaks my interest at the strained relationship between Jack and Lily Cavanaugh, Queen of the B-movies.
That flashback to almost being dragged into the van by those two monster-men its chilling. I think your child-brain has an uncanny ability to suppress dark memories. I remember a friend who stood up, suddenly remembering how some stranger had approached her backyard while they were playing with the sprinklers, and drawn a gun on her. Her older sister flat out asked the man not to shoot either of them and he eventually ran off. How fucked is that? It makes you wonder what memories have drifted down to the darker fathoms of your mind, half-buried in silt. Rape? I've heard a few similar stories involving that, neither of them pleasant. One of Cam's jump-starts for a story was a girl in fucking, I dunno, Toronto or some shit, meeting a troll under a bridge. Think about that for a second.
I digress, of course. So let's cut to the meat of it - we've established a plot and now Jack is in the Territories, and I just spent all morning listening to the Ocarina of Time soundtrack and remember how that game transported me to my own Territories, and isn't it fine? What better way to start off a book than by having a kid eating the most delicious-tasting blackberries he's ever seen in another world. Reminds me of plucking grapes in Kandahar. Of course, there is the menace that is omnipresent - and something about the birds talking in lies is alluring.
Let's press on.
I realize, sort of in hindsight, that I've never read anything else by Peter Straub, and thus am having a certain amount of difficulty differentiating between his and King's prose. Still, say one thing about the Talisman, say there is some fine pieces of writing in there; the Arcadia Funworld a "heart between beats", and a woman with "piled-up hair", that sort of thing.
Anyways, so enter Jack Sawyer, a twelve-year old surrounded by death. And if death through the eyes of a twelve-year old isn't heavy enough, there are other worlds out there, and talking seagulls, and shapeshifting Strangers, and cancer. Looking back, I don't think I really dug the expository "Jack Lights Out" part, before he flips into the Territories for damn good. Nowadays it's a little different - something about dating a single-mom makes peaks my interest at the strained relationship between Jack and Lily Cavanaugh, Queen of the B-movies.
That flashback to almost being dragged into the van by those two monster-men its chilling. I think your child-brain has an uncanny ability to suppress dark memories. I remember a friend who stood up, suddenly remembering how some stranger had approached her backyard while they were playing with the sprinklers, and drawn a gun on her. Her older sister flat out asked the man not to shoot either of them and he eventually ran off. How fucked is that? It makes you wonder what memories have drifted down to the darker fathoms of your mind, half-buried in silt. Rape? I've heard a few similar stories involving that, neither of them pleasant. One of Cam's jump-starts for a story was a girl in fucking, I dunno, Toronto or some shit, meeting a troll under a bridge. Think about that for a second.
I digress, of course. So let's cut to the meat of it - we've established a plot and now Jack is in the Territories, and I just spent all morning listening to the Ocarina of Time soundtrack and remember how that game transported me to my own Territories, and isn't it fine? What better way to start off a book than by having a kid eating the most delicious-tasting blackberries he's ever seen in another world. Reminds me of plucking grapes in Kandahar. Of course, there is the menace that is omnipresent - and something about the birds talking in lies is alluring.
Let's press on.
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