Friday, August 13, 2010

Gerald's Game

So once I decided to axe The Host I needed to choose another book for my August book stack, of course. And in terms of sheer numbers, the most popular author on my shelf upstairs was King, of course.

Gerald's Game. Have you read this? Cuz DAMN. Somehow I missed this when I was in high school, which is probably a good thing. It scared me in all kinds of creepy, angering, inappropriate ways. This post was initially born in my head as one that would address rape and incest in film and literature, but then I decided that such a post would be a real boner-kill, no bad taste or pun intended. I like to keep things light on the old Television Lady, so I'll just say this: the stuff with the Dad rubbing one off on his ten year old very nearly earned this book the same fate as The Host, but I kept on with it. I understand that there are molesters out there who are in all other ways upstanding citizens, but it's a subject that I don't have a lot of patience for, much like male-directed films that have insensitive rape scenes or the entire film Happiness. It's almost like giving birth, it's not something just anyone can write about or make a film about. You have to be very careful and respectful at the same time. Don't treat it casually (King didn't, but it was still very, very disturbing).

So, really, Jessie's being chained to the bed in handcuffs really seemed secondary to me with all that other business going on in her head. . . I think the book was done well, but by the end of it, I was very unenthusiastic about virtually everything else, the flesh-eating dog, Mr. Death and his bone bag, dying of thirst, etc. The little surprise bit at the end that exposed Mr. Death as some sort of twisted Jeffrey Daumer seriously threw me for a loop, I thought having him be Mr. Death was almost better. Jessie carving up her hand with the water glass was tense, the voices inside her head (Punkin, Goodwife, her college friend Ruth) guiding her were nice touches, but all in all, (sorry, Steve, you know I love you), my skirt ain't blown up, and I suppose that happens. . .

I read another blog that listed this as one of King's most scary, which, meh, but what struck me was that they also suggested that this was one that would never make it to the big screen.

Hmmm. . . .

1 comments:

HOME