Continued from here:

The Wind Through The Keyhole – Stephen King


Page 119 – 135

“To his left bulked the forest, which began less than a wheel away. In there it was twilight even at noonday, his father had said.”

Homely neologisms of Dark Tower mode give a well-felt, well-loved, well-hated wrought ambiance for this inner inner hero to flourish – with death and new grown-up loves as parts of a cycle within his beloved mother still in memory of a loyalty to his passed-on father that she can barely shake off. A dragon at the edge of the Forest – well that’s life, my life, your life, our life, sex as well as love as well as that sharp kill-edge of each word – but we readers are treated special by the Dark Tower form of Author who’s using his instincts towards the innermopst story of all rather than towards that for commerce or ‘good literature’.  With simply good, honest ‘story’ that turns the pages themselves, ebook or not. We readers, not only mollycoddled, but also laid out nekkid with no further idea where the story is heading us inwards toward than the author himself knows, but we feel we are safe. Intrinsically safe within the inner inner words. Safe as whatever the next page will hold. (2 May 12 – 6.40 pm bst)

Page 135 – 143

“And so they were wed. That is where many stories end; it’s where this one – sad to say – really begins.”

Tim (the youth of whom Roland stories) faces his ma’s remarriage  – but ominous signs of marital violence as Tim grows nearly old enough to work in the Sawmill and dealing with its Ironwood, and forced by his step-dadda to leave his math teacher Widow Smack. A poignant sense of seasonal cycles in both nature and man as the homely neologisms grow, allowing me to sink back into ‘The Dark Tower’ ethos almost imperceptibly. Meanwhile, there are striking resonances between this book and ‘Three Winters’ and ‘A False Spring’ in an ebook entitled ‘The Haunted Grove’ by Tim Jeffreys: I real-time reviewed it here – I wonder if those resonances will continue. (3 May 12 – 4.00 pm bst)

Page 143 – 154

‘Welcome, sai. Long days and pleasant–‘ / ‘Yar, all that, all that,’ the Covenant Man said with a dismissive wave of one hand.”

Tim is taken – for a while – just as the ageless Weirdmonger, writ by me in 1988, took the boy during the Weirdmonger’s own eponymous story – now taken by the Covenant (Tax) Man, and questioned about his step dadda’s behaviour …. Tim is given a key…  I am intrigued, snatched myself as a ‘youthful’ reader (despite my 64 years of age) by another Covenant Man with the name of King… (3 May 12 – 6.35 pm bst)

Page 154 – 178

“…vomited his supper into the hole the Covenant Man had been digging with his bootheel. / “‘There!’ the man in the black cloak said in a tone of hearty self-congratulation. ‘I thought that might come in handy.'”

Like King himself often idly digging holes for our sick.  Even Ironwoods can think, I hear. And like the Gods’ water-surface in Jason & The Argonauts – or, if I recall correctly, like an earlier Dark Tower hag’s water-surface – that in the Man’s basin bears unbearable visions of what may or may not be happening on the ‘internet’ of Tim’s maternal scrying and crying. And not a Dragon-kill after all but a body-corse beneath the paternal mirror like Millais’ Ophelia?  The Man in a Black Suit by another Stephen King as the Covenant Man, where I once foretold this part of the story via another real-time review? “Tim watched the bugs eating each other, revolted but fascinated. Would they go on until only one – the strongest – was left.” Weirdmonger or King in that black cloak?  Not the King and Oy, but the King and I, at last. (4 May 12 – 3.25 pm bst)

Page 179 – 194

The man in the black cloak, “said to be eternal, a creature who lives backward in time”, effectively got Tim the key that opened the trunk but the very opening with this key opened its own pandora’s box of retrocausal repercussions, such as the very cruelty upon his ma itself and one of the most literally touching scenes of a son visiting his da’s dead body in its bier. Mine, a number of years ago, seemed devastingly shrunk and not him at all, as if crushed to suit the man he had once been to the box’s shape. Tim’s steppa da’ is meantime sought for blinding Tim’s ma with a mighty smack from a ceramic pot on her head: making her into his steppa da’s widow now faster coming from the past into the present (the second widowhood she’d bear in short order)? Taxing Time (as well as Tim), maybe, by reversing life’s gears – or death’s? (5 May 12 – 8.35 pm bst)

Page 194 – 205

“…the key  that would work only once,”

…indeed, the only way to scry a story is by piecemeal real-time public confession (as I do here) rather than by depending on a key to work with a retrocausal snapshot at the end of the whole thing. As Widow Smack sends Tim Ross off with her gun-‘blessing’ to seek what she sees as an evil Tax Man in his black cloak in Tim’s quest for healing his ma’s eyesight, I wonder, perhaps irrelevantly,which way doth the wind blow through the keyhole, from outside in, or inside out? (6 May 12 – 8.30 pm bst)



No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s