Danse Macabre - 28th November

It's probably clear to you from previous blog posts, that I don't know the first thing about horror, past or present.  While I know this isn't a definitive history, insight or exploration, it should raise my knowledge about its current realm of 'fuck all'.

Cujo 6th-26th November

Awesome. It's the first one that's really got under my skin and gripped me with the threat and terror of the story.

The thing that stood out most of all for me was the relationships. I'm guessing King let a lot of himself out in this one. It gives the impression of having been written by a parent who is wont to analyse not only their position as parent and their relationship with the child and spouse but also their own parents. Much of the book is tied to these familial relations and, as a parent of young children, it was an easy identifier.

As for my fear of dogs, it hasn't done anything to exacerbate it. After all, it's only a story.  If anything, it has made me question and analyse it. I can easily identify where my fear originated and see why I've never overcome it. Perhaps, for my own wellness of mind, it's time I properly addressed my phobia.

Cujo - interim thoughts

I read on wikipedia that King was shit-faced when he wrote it and, in fact, barely remembers writing it. Surely confirmation bias, but I think that comes across. You can tell he's a bit loose and wild and, while the word is beginning to grate on me, there's a rawness to the writing. It's a bit like the filter is pulled back and the 'off the cuff' is blazing through. There being no chapters, just one irrepressible narrative is the plainest evidence. The way he's talking about the infidelity must resonate with our married brethren. We're good lads who would never roam, but the fear of your spouse doing so is as terrifying as a rabid dog. Whether it was something our boy went through, or not, I don't know but I think he's got the feelings and reaction down.
I know it doesn't have a lot to do with the effect of the horror, but I'm loving this book so far.

Cujo - 6th November

I definitely haven't read Cujo before.

I've a feeling this one's going to put me about. That's because I am scared of dogs. Not all dogs. It's a fear borne of childhood experience, compounded by the fact that I've never really been around dogs since. For a long time, when I was growing up, there was an Alsatian two doors up that was allowed to roam free on the street. Untrained and owned by absolute fucking scrubbers, it was often encouraged to chase us kids on our bikes or to jump up at us while we sat on a high wall. I'm probably exaggerating when I say that for a good few years, I would have to leave the house on full alert for canine attack. It only bit me one time and it was only a nip on the arse and as much a result of my innate fear as its cunthole owners and complete lack of training, but I immediately get the fear when I see a dog on the street.

Some breeds I'm fine with. Well, labradors and anything I could feasibly kick to a safe distance. Please don't get me wrong, I wish no harm on any dog, or any other animal, and know that dangerous dogs are the product of shitty owners. However, I can't help the fact that when I see someone approaching with a dog on a lead, I start judging the dog's strength and potential ferocity versus the owner's strength, grip on the lead and even the durability of the lead itself. Now, if the dog is loose, I'm looking to cross the road, wondering whether I should just turn back, all the while looking for a high fence or wall to climb should it come to that.

I know responsible dog owners are probably shaking their heads, but I can't help it. All that considered, here goes Cujo.

Roadwork - 14th October-6th November 2010

I'll start by saying how much I liked Roadwork. A lot.

The least 'horror' of his books I've read so far, barring Rage, it's the one I've found most affecting. The realisation that your humanity is of mere and fleeting concern to the emergent power brokers and ruling elite is crushing enough. In Bart's case, this came after a lifetime of servitude and labour. For the majority of us, it's the road that lays before us and we at least have the option, however grudgingly, whether to trudge its desolate expanse or break free and cavort in the pasture. We're not, like Bart, faced with looking back at the idea of working for a family run or 'community ethos' company with a vested and nurturing interest in its employees as people, not just a commodity or a profit margin factor becoming an arcane and romantic vestige of the past. I don't know...which is worse? Being dealt a shit hand, knowing the deck is stacked or winning a few hands before the rules of the game are changed and breaking even, never-mind winning, is categorically, no longer on the cards.

While the majority of us would have just eaten the shit sandwich with a nod and a smile, accepting the relocations with barely a grumble, it was nice to see him stand up for himself, no matter how ill-fated and unhinged the execution. I suppose, these days, we'd confine our dissatisfactions to tweets and Facebook updates.

Add in the early death of a son and not only do you have an assassinated past but there's also a strangled future to contend with. To say that, as a parent of young children, I felt this more keenly, is an affront to empathy, but there's something particularly chilling to me about the summary suffocation of such a depth of hopes, dreams and transferred aspirations.

I felt his frustrations, and the breakdown of marriage struck a chord. With six years under our belts, my wife and I know that it's never always plain sailing. The thing is, you've committed to be each other's port in the every inevitable storm and that's not easy either, but it's a mutual arrangement that relies on equal participation. He didn't keep his end of the bargain and paid for it. But he's (just a) man and we're awesome at fucking things up, so he's not wholly undeserving of sympathy.

Anyway, no matter how stunted and poorly thought out my ideas in reaction to the book have come across here, I loved Roadwork.