BOOK REVIEW: The Green Mile by Stephen King

Today I finished a Stephen King classic: The Green Mile. I was ugly crying by the end, you know, delivering a full “Kim K sob” moment to the audience of my unimpressed teenage sister. I expected greatness, naturally. However, I hadn’t expected that I would be so immersed and emotionally involved, especially having seen the film a number of times. It turns out that great stories continue to hold a great power over their readers, no matter how many times they’ve read those pages or watched those films.


So, what’s the story?

Protagonist Paul Edgecombe is an elderly man living in a residential home. He spends his mornings going for mysterious walks into the woods, his days writing solitarily in the sunroom and his insomnia-riddled nights watching TV in the “resource center”. The subject of his writing is his earlier years, which were spent serving as a supervisory prison guard on Block E of Cold Mountain Penitentiary death row. This block is also known as “The Green Mile”, on account of the fact that the block features a green strip that leads directly from the bars of the jail cells all the way through to the room that hosts the electric chair, nicknamed Ol’ Sparky.

The main year of interest in his memoirs is 1932: the year that saw Block E populated by the likes of Delacroix, John Coffey and Wild Bill. Delacroix is a French-speaking, balding arsonist, rapist and murderer. Wild Bill is a sociopathic wild card and John Coffey, like the drink only not spelled the same, is a gentle-mannered giant who was found with the bodies of two bloodied and desecrated young girls in his arms.

A series of strange events take place in 1932. There’s the pernicious UTI festering in Edgecombe’s loins, a prison guard with a penchant for meanness, mice miraculously resurrected from almost-death and eventful executions that have the room smelling of burned flesh for the rest of time. 1932: this was a year that irrevocably changed Edgecombe’s life. Above all, 1932 was the year that cemented the legacy of John Coffey, the mysteriously vacant and supernatural inmate who changed the lives of all those around him.

Things I like about the novel:

  • I really enjoyed the format in which the novel is written. There’s obviously two timelines: Edgecombe’s present and the events of 1932. Both seamlessly weave in and out of each other, with Edgecombe slowly becoming more saturated in his memories as the novel goes on. Apparently, the novel was initially released in small paperback sections and then merged together into one due to demand from King’s faithful readers. This could explain the slight repetition among chapters, but even then, this never seemed to disrupt the flow of the narrative. Rather, it added a little quirk to Edgecombe’s account as he was flitting between present and past.
  • Another thing I loved was how there were whole chunks of narration, speech and imagery that came alive as I read and I realised that the movie had utilised a lot of the written material, with only a few deviations along the way. The movie, released in 1999, was ridiculously faithful to the book. As I was reading, I couldn’t help but picture the characters as they had been cast. Perhaps the greatest of all casting choices was that of John Coffey: Michael Clarke Duncan’s performance gained him a series of nominations for prestigious awards such as an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Supporting Role and a Golden Globe nomination for Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role in a Motion Picture. While reading, it honestly felt as if King had written the entire part with only Duncan in mind.
  • Once again, King has worked his magic with the supporting cast so that even the most minor of the characters are fleshed out with such detail that they become as integral to the narrative as the core protagonists themselves. Nobody’s neglected, even Ol’ Sparky, Mr Jingles and Toot-Toot are given their time to shine and readers can’t help but regard them with as much affection and attention as the big wigs like Brutal, Harry and Dean.

Goodreads rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

BOOK REVIEW: Sleeping Beauties by Stephen & Owen King

The sleepy (pardon my pun) town of Dooling is hit, like the rest of the world, by a strange phenomenon where women and girls who fall asleep succumb to being shrouded in a mysterious webbing. Wrapped up in body bags like cocoons, these women and girls are lost to their husbands, brothers, fathers and friends, with no apparent cause and no conclusive cures. If the cocoons are probed and the webbing torn in any way, the women respond violently and often cause fatalities.

This phenomenon is named “Aurora” and accelerates its spread like a global bush-fire. No woman is immune: aside from loading up on stimulants to temporarily resist the lull of sleep, the outcome is inevitable.

When Dooling’s Sheriff Lila is called to the scene of a gnarly crime on the first morning of Aurora’s appearance, she notes the coincidental arrival of a very enigmatic Evie to the town. Scantily clad, chillingly knowledgeable and capable of major destruction, the otherworldly Evie may have the answers to the world’s questions about Aurora.

However, in order to serve any use in reversing the weird global phenomenon, Evie will have to first survive the threats that face her from some of Dooling’s very awake, and angry, male citizens…

Aspects of the novel I wasn’t so keen on:

  • The tired repetition of themes and character arcs from other Stephen King titles. As to be expected, there are some recurring ideas within Sleeping Beauties that, to me, drew instant comparisons to the likes of The Stand, Under the Dome and Desperation. You have your classic good guys, the morally questionable guys who go on to discover great untapped potential and turn their lives around, and finally the completely unsaveable evil guys who exploit others at any available opportunity. Characters that instantly raised red flags include Eric Blass, Garth Flickinger, Frank Geary and Clint Norcross. The aforementioned cast aren’t exact replicas of other characters in the King universe, but definitely share very distinct personality traits with other characters, enough so that I’d noticed and had to take a few moments to get through the odd deja vu. That being said, I’m not sure if some repetition is entirely avoidable when a writer like Stephen King has such a vast bibliography under their belt.

Things I like about the novel:

  • The merging of two Kings in one book (trust me, no relation whatsoever to 2 girls, 1 cup). I swear I could feel from the outset that this wasn’t solely a Stephen King book. I have absolutely no idea why or whether it was entirely a placebo phenomenon because I’d seen Owen’s name on the front cover, but I did feel like the tone and writing style was ever so slightly different in a very rewarding way. I feel like, without this, I’d have maybe stalled in reading at certain points where blatant comparisons to other King novels were particularly striking.
  • The social commentary on what the world as we know it could really look like without women. I think we’re all fundamentally aware that we take aspects of our lives for granted. There are things we overlook without a second glance, and I feel like the patriarchy has done a pretty magnificent job of systematically unseeing women and their value in society for thousands of years. So yeah, reading this book was a nice imagination-booster and made me think about the inherent value of those around me, as well as the neverending battle to be seen and heard by those who are so damned good at ignoring the privileges afforded to them thanks to the hard work and exploitation of half the world’s population.
  • I really enjoyed the post-apocalyptic and fantastical elements of “Our Place”. Our Place was depicted as an almost Stranger Things-esque “Upside Down” edition of the real world. The sense of community and peace achieved by the cocooned women, when given an opportunity to start again, was utopian and dreamlike but also raised questions of viability and sustenance.