Like The New Look?

It's pretty snazzy, isn't it? I'll probably play around with it a bit more, but I like it for the most part. I felt like the previous template, with all the browns and such, was a little too...sepia-y. Also, DorfGirl's blog made me want to have a bit more colors.

So, how are you all? I'm good. Mid 60's out, an iced green tea lemonade, and I bumped my route up to 2.6 miles rather than 2.1. Life's good.

So, on to G'sG. Last time I believe we got through chapter 23 (actually, there's no 'believe' about it; I just opened a new tab and checked, so pfft).

In chapter 24, Jessie again dreams of the Man. My first note on this chapter is that she mentions (either in this chapter, or previously [probably the latter], but my notes mention it here) that he had reddish eyes. I believe it was something like his eyes looked as if he'd just woken up. Not the book's words, mine. The note here is about whether or not King is drawing a comparison between the Man and Randall Flagg. Flagg's the baddie in a whole slew of King books. He'll go under different names, usually still with the initials R.F. (such as Richard Fannin), but he's the same dude. We find this out in the DT series. He's also gone by Marten Broadcloak and Walter o' Dim. But he's this mildly powerful sorcerer who's often the antagonist in Stephen King's books. The reason I'm wondering if there's a comparison to be drawn lies in two things. The first is that Flagg is known as the Walkin' Dude or the Ageless Stranger in a couple of books (notably The Stand and The Dark Tower series), and certainly G'sG's Man could be considered a stranger. The more important note, though, is the red eyes. Flagg is known for having red eyes, and also for being a minion of the superior baddie, the Crimson King, who's sigul (sign) is a red, omniscient eye. Given that the Man appears to be the main antagonist in the book (other than Jessie's own mental peanut gallery), it seems possible, perhaps even likely, that King did this intentionally. Or, at the risk of causing my High School English teachers to rip their hair out, maybe it's just that when King saw the Man in his head, he had red eyes. Maybe that's all it means.

The next note is a bit of commentary on the style and technique of King. As anyone who's read his books might now, he often uses italics in parentheses to denote thoughts of sorts. They are usually set as a new line in the books, and often come in the middle of a sentence. For example:

He was out riding his bike, the sun hitting his back,

(heating him burning him hurting him)

when he saw something that made his heart drop.

The non-italics would obviously be more than just a line or two, but you get the point. These bits of italics are kind of the thoughts of the characters, or King's references to other events in the novels. I'm not sure how else to explain it; if you're still confused, read some books and you'll get it. The interesting thing, though, is that sometimes, if you take out the italicized bit, the rest still makes a coherent thought or phrase (see above). In these cases it would seem like the character was thinking or remembering something at this point. But the italicized bits are not necessary to the structure at these points. Other times, however, the italicized bits are necessary in the sentence; they are the noun, for example, and without them the sentence would not make sense. It's interesting that he does both of those things in his novel. Perhaps the latter example would stand to either stress an important part of the sentence or just show that the thought the narration is expressing can't be merely words; there has to be some thought-language symbolism for it to be right.

The final note is one of importance; Jessie sees something that solidifies her fears and proves, despite her feeble rationalizations, that the Man is indeed real, and furthermore, that he was indeed there that night. Remember the box of bones and jewelry? Well, Mr. Man was a bit sloppy (or maybe not) and left one behind. There's a lone earring sitting on the floor of the bedroom. Jessie tries to explain it off as either being one of hers, or simply that it was there earlier, but neither of these ideas hold air. She does not have earrings like that, and there was nothing there either. It's one of his, no doubt robbed from one of his victims, and he left it behind when he visited her last night. Driving this point home is a muddy footprint near it. One that's caked with a little bit of mud, as if the shoe that it belongs too was traipsing about through the woods near a certain lake, for example. The Man was there that night.

Chapter 25. Visited and advised by a younger version of herself, an idea occurs to Jessie. Something about the handcuffs, although the manifestation wont tell her what. Jessie has to come upon the idea herself, you see (although, since the voices and visitors [save for the Man] are figments of her imagination, it would be coming from her anyways, but you get the idea). Finally, she gets it. The handcuffs.

The handcuffs are M-17, which stands for male with 17 notches of adjustment. Good ole Gerald had wanted to get F-23 (need I explain?) but could not (by the way, he did get them from some random guy at the courthouse, and the conversation was slightly less awkward that the one I envisioned, but not much). The important thing about this is that, because they're designed to fit male wrists and have 6 less degrees of variance, they're not quite as tight on her wrists as they ideally would be on a criminal baddie.

So, she tries to weasel her way out, and is again stopped by that troublesome bone protrusion below her thumb. Oh darn.

Chapter 26 is also short, and again is based around another attempt to escape the cuffs. There's oh so fortunately a sample tub of face cream on the shelf above the bed (the shelf which, it seems, is just a cornucopia of helpful daily paraphernalia). If she can manage to get her limited grip on the face cream, she might be able to lubricate her wrists just enough to slip right out the cuffs. Sure, it's a stretch, but it's certainly a good deal more likely than her previous attempts. But she must be careful.

After feeling around and realizing that it wasn't knocked off in her previous antics to try to get the glass of water, she manages to get a hold on the bottle (I must point out here that Jessie surely is a good bit more creative and intuitive and situationally aware than most of us would be).

She's got the jar and got the top unscrewed when Prince comes in. He scares the living crap out of her, and the tub goes tumbling uselessly to the floor. This part was intense; all my nerves were on edge when she was going about this task, and my breath, which had been held in, flew out in a frustrated whoosh as she dropped it. How does King make it so intense, so personal, for the reader? It's crazy. This novel has so far played my emotional reactions as if they were a violin.

Bear with me, guys; my notes for chapter 27 are scrawling, ambiguous, and disordered. But I think I can manage. As long as my semicolon key works, I'll still be able to babble about the book.

The face cream dropping completely kills Jessie's spirit. She gives up, and hours waste away as she's in a daze. This chapter is so drenched in hopelessness even I felt it. Jessie starts to seriously give up, and the reader finds him- or herself even agreeing in the opinion that at this point a quick death may actually be a mercy, compared with the agonizingly slow death from thirst, or the equally agonizingly quick and painful death dealt by the Man. Again, how does King pluck our nerves so? It feels like I'm more emotionally invested in Jessie's outcome than I am in events in my own life. I suppose that that's what makes it so damn fun to read.

But it's not hopeless, not totally, at least. Punkin (Jessie's name for her younger self, after her father's nickname for her at that age) seems to have an idea, but is tauntingly not telling. Damn kids. It seems to have to do with both Jessie's right hand and the eclipse. But Jessie's surely not going to re-remember that day without a fight, especially if she doesn't see how it will get her out of this mess.

28.

It will help get her out this mess, though.

Jessie finds out that the memory that Punkin is referencing is on the eclipse day, but a bit earlier than any of the actual 'stuff'.

Before the eclipse, Jessie comes upon her father holding some panes of glass above a small fire he'd started. They make jokes about how they're supposed to be having eclipse burgers, not glass sandwiches, and it's a much needed Hallmark-warm-&-fuzzy family moment. Everyone laughs-HaHaHa. Her dad explains, though, that by layering the glass panes once they've accumulated a good layer of translucent smoky film, they'll be able to use them to look at the eclipse without melting their retinas like the hydrophobic witch in The Wizard of Oz. He does warn her to be very careful; his glass-cutting skills are not professional level, you see, and he doesn't want her to cut herself. How thoughtful of him, don't you think?

Before we move on to chapter 29, guys and gals, take a deep breath. This chapter (and the next one or two or three) are agonizingly, nerve-fryingly cringe-worthy. I've watched Hostel and the Saw movies, and this still had my stomach flip-flopping and my pulse quickening. It's just gruesome. Again, use that handy dandy scroll wheel if you feel you need to. If you are toughing it out, though, wait a while after you've eaten (and before you will again) and have a seat. Please. It's just hard to stomach.

The chapter begins with her finishing the memory, and remembering what her father said about him not wanting her to cut her fingers. Is this the idea that Punkin wanted her to get?

It sure seems to. Jessie contemplates that, by breaking the water glass (which is on her right side, and therefore implicating her right hand), the blood will provide the lubrication that the face cream didn't. It's important to note that, although just prior to this Jessie had seemingly given up hope, this is not a suicidal idea, but the complete opposite; she'll have to risk her life to try to save it. Again, this seems like a trap that Jigsaw would be proud of. I realize that my blogging here may not be making you squirm, but the book itself surely does, and she doesn't even do it in this chapter, she merely realizes that that is going to have to be her only choice. To break the glass, and cut her wrists with it enough to get enough blood to slip out.

And believe me, the next chapters will have you cringing even more.

And that's it for tonight (kind of, I have to go back and edit the chapter 22 section of the last post; I looked at my notes for it, and realized that I didn't remember talking about any of what I'd written. A quickly opened tab proved this; I must have written the bit about chapter 22 without even glancing at my notes. So I need to modify that if I'm to get a good night's sleep). It's nearly 11 o' clock, and I'm gonna head home.

But, hopefully, this entertained you, and certainly the King-worthy suspense of stopping right at the commencement of a very intense part will give you cause to keep reading.

'Til next time.