The Shining By Stephen King. A Book Review. Also a Film Review.
I've noticed a pattern how Stephen King writes about writers losing their minds? It’s like every book is just him screaming, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Just me and the typewriter and the voices in the walls!”
So Jack takes the family to this place called the Overlook Hotel. Real cozy bolt hole. Built on an ancient burial ground, run by ghosts, and the thermostat’s stuck on “murder.” Great reviews though. “Five stars—would get possessed again.”
And the kid, Danny? He’s got “The Shining,” which is like psychic Wi-Fi. He’s picking up ghost signals from the 1920s. Meanwhile, Jack’s talking to a bartender who’s been dead since Prohibition. That’s not a red flag, that’s a red carpet to hell.
Then there’s that scene with the twins. You know, the little girls in the hallway? “Come play with us, Danny.” Yeah, no thanks. I don’t play with ghosts. I barely play with people.
And Jack’s wife, Wendy? She’s just trying to survive. She’s got a baseball bat and a look that says, “I married a novelist, not a lunatic.” But let's face it, marriage is full of surprises. Sometimes it’s flowers, sometimes it’s frozen hedge mazes and demonic typewriters.
In the end, Jack freezes to death in the snow. (Maybe this is the point where I realise I should have said "Contains Spoilers!" ? But shit we're all good friends) Which is ironic, because he was really heating up there for a while. Chasing his kid with an axe, yelling “Here’s Johnny!”—like he’s auditioning for The Tonight Show in hell.
Anyway, great book. Real uplifting. Makes you want to cancel your ski trip and hug your kid. Or at least teach him to run faster. ****
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