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The Shining by Stephen King Sunday Book Circle - Part I

Do I even need to summarize this book? Well, I guess I will anyway. This is King’s third novel and has four major characters: Jack Torrance, a recovering alcoholic on his last chance for a job, his wife Wendy, a stay at home mom considering divorce, their preschool age son, Danny, who has the shining, which is telepathy, clairvoyance, and sensitivity to the supernatural, some of which appears much like a seizure, and Dick Hallorann, a hotel cook who also has the shining, but to a much lesser degree than Danny. Actually, I was wrong: there are five major characters. The firth is the Colorado Rockies located Overlook Hotel, where Hallorann works and where the Torrance family is staying during the winter off season to make sure the pipes don’t freeze and the old, faulty boiler doesn’t blow. But the Overlook Hotel is haunted and evil and it has an appetite for people.

Now that that is out of the way, let me just say, I love The Shining. It is multifaceted in a way many novels aren’t. There is the literal level of the haunting and supernatural elements, and then there is the subtextual level which is about abusive people. I saw the Kubrick film before I ever read this novel, and while I like that movie, including the prevailing Wendy theory, it is a very different story than this novel by subtextually putting Jack as the victim of his wife’s insanity. It’s good. It’s a good movie, but it isn’t even as deep as the novel with its themes. Though it is hard for a movie to be as deep as a novel this long. Kubrick didn’t treat the supernatural elements as real, which really bothered King. I get that, but adaptations are not what they are adapting. The close adaptation is rare and honestly, superfluous. I don’t need to watch a live action version of the same story, but I do prefer that tone and themes stay the same in adaptations. The problem with wanting that from Kubric is that is impossible with his work. He was an artiste of a director. There was no way he wasn’t going to run away with his own vision and he adapted a lot of novels over his career. And, no, I haven’t seen the Steven Weber starring adaptation, but since it was made for ABC I seriously doubt that it has any of the sexual elements that the novel so frequently portrays.

But enough about adaptations. Let’s talk about the actual novel. The actual supernatural elements of The Shining are pretty amazing. Everything but the kitchen sink is in this novel when it comes to ghosts, from bloody echos of a murder, a promiscuous female suicide, a whole party from a masked new year’s eve, a child in the playground, and my favorite, a menagerie of living hedge animals. Besides the woman who committed suicide, a lot of the ghostly stuff is sexual, including the clock figures that Danny sees and the man in the dog mask. King’s horror often has a lot of sexual elements to it, and I think that’s one reason he puts some people off. Ghosts and ghoulies trying to murder people are fine, but someone says cunt and it’s all gone too far! Insert eyeroll. I like the sexual nature of a lot of his horror, because rape, sexual assault, sexual arousal in the face of fear are all horrifying. If we can handle a bloated corpse trying to strangle a child, we should also be able to handle that bloated corpse’s naked breasts. Sex is a sure fire way to make characters and readers uncomfortable and that’s kind of the point of horror fiction, being uncomfortable, off-kilter, shaken, unsure of yourself, what other synonyms can I come up with? Hmm. Ah! Disjointed.

While I liked the normal ghosts of The Shining, I felt like the real star of freakdom in the book was the menagerie of hedge animals. They are only in four scenes, but the stakes are ramped up beautifully in those four scenes. First we have Jack thinking he’s hallucinating as the hedge animals slightly move and become more defined. Then we have them chasing Danny across the snow. We have them guarding the Overlook from Hallorann, wherein an actual fight happens. Finally, we have their resolution. When it comes to creep factor and developing an encroaching threat, this is the best writing in the novel. This is the horror element that is unique to The Shining. Because the Overlook’s ghosts don’t really exist without The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, and there are plenty of novels about ghosts. The hedge animals are special and I love them. But let me know what your favorite creep of the Overlook is?

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The King's Guardess
Chapter 19: The Prize to Be Won

Steam rose in lazy swirls from the bathwater, curling around the figure of Renault as he reclined with a cloth draped over his face. The silence of the chamber was thick, almost tangible. With a sudden movement that sent ripples across the surface, Renault yanked the cloth away, his brow knitted with distress.

"Ugh," he groaned, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. His thoughts churned like the water around him. “What is wrong with me? This was always the plan. She deserves this. She—”

Images of Gerardine cascaded through his mind unbidden: her stoic presence in his father's dimly lit bedroom, the unwavering gaze as she witnessed the old king's last breath; her commanding voice during those dusty afternoons of swordplay, "Pick. Up. Your. Sword."; the way she flung her hair back, beads of water glittering in the sun; her triumphant grin, sharp enough to cut steel, as Sir Heloise lay in the grass defeated; the memory of her bow, so full of rage, after his fist met her cheek; the fire in her eyes when she hurled juggling balls at him in a fit of pique; her laughter – that rare, uninhibited melody which seemed to come from a place deep within her.

And then, the image that made his cheeks flare hotter than the bathwater: Gerardine beneath him, her identity no longer hidden by armor or pretense, but revealed in the moonlight as undeniably, breathtakingly woman.

 

 

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The King's Guardess
Chapter 18: The First Laugh

Gerardine jumped as the council chamber doors exploded open with a bang that could wake the dead. She let loose an unladylike "Holy fuck", just as Renault barreled out. The hall, thick with the musty scent of old books and older men, instantly brightened with his grinning presence.

"Sir Gerard!" he boomed, striding across the chamber like a conqueror. Before she could react, he was upon her, his hands clasping her upper arms as if they were comrades just seeing each other for the first time in years. "We're going hunting."

"Ah, joy," Gerardine groaned, her voice dripping sarcasm as Renault's infectious excitement failed to penetrate her annoyance. Yet, when he tugged her from her post, her body complied with an uncharacteristic limpness—resistance was futile against the human whirlwind that was Renault.

"Come on, no sour faces," he chided cheerfully, reading her like an old friend, much older than they actually were. "Don't worry! No horses and horsing around this time."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyebrow arching in mock hopefulness. Renault only laughed in response, leading her away from the drudgery of duty to the promise of adventure—or at least, his version of it.

***
Deep within the forest, trees whispered secrets to each other as Renault and Gerardine treaded through the underbrush. Bow in hand, Gerardine's eyes couldn't help but wander over to Renault. Clad in his hunting leathers, he cut a dashing figure among the greens and browns of their woodland playground. He was all focus, eyes scanning, every muscle tensed for the hunt. And then there was her, trying to remember why she had agreed to this.

Catching her gaze, Renault's eyebrow quirked up. "What?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

"Nothing," Gerardine responded too quickly, her cheeks warming just a smidge. "I'm just waiting for your next prank, sire."

Renault's smile bloomed like a rose in summer. Eyes closed, head raised to the heavens as if in silent thanks, he proclaimed, "I'm giving you a reprieve for the day."

"Generous," Gerardine deadpanned, offering him a blank-faced stare that should have been enough to wilt flowers. "How kind of you, your majesty."

His laughter echoed through the forest, birds taking flight from their sanctuary in the trees. There was something unsettlingly charming about Renault in these moments—unburdened by the weight of his crown, free in a way that made Gerardine's heart perform strange little flips. But she'd never admit to that, not even under pain of torture.

"Oh, am I getting to you?" Renault's voice was a tease, his grin wide as he leaned in, close enough that Gerardine could count every speck of mischief in his eyes.

"Perhaps my nerves," she retorted, arching an eyebrow in mock defiance, "but not my funny bone."

 

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The King's Guardess
Chapter 17: Take a Break!

Renault sat at the head of the long, oak council table, a mischievous glint in his eye as he manipulated a peculiar bag with his fingers. With a squeeze, it erupted into a scandalous sound that echoed off the stone walls, and he couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face. The gathered councilors, however, were far from amused, their brows knitted together in collective annoyance.

"What?" Renault asked innocently, looking around at the sea of scowling faces.

"Sire, could you please focus?" implored the councilor with glasses perched precariously on his nose. His tone held the same weariness one might reserve for a child who had asked 'why' too many times.

But Renault, undeterred by the plea for seriousness, refilled the rubbery pouch with another gust of breath and pressed it once more, releasing yet another flatulent symphony into the solemn chamber. "Is this funny?" he queried with the enthusiasm of a bard presenting his finest ballad.

The councilor with the impressive beard, whose face was lost somewhere within the thicket of hair, leaned forward. "What is that?" he grumbled, voice deep and resonating like an old war drum.

With a flourish fit for a jester, Renault waved the strange object through the air. "It's a sheep’s stomach treated with wax," he explained, as if unveiling a grand invention.

The oldest councilor, wrinkles mapping out the trials of countless tedious meetings, sighed deeply. "What do you plan to do with it?" he asked, dread seeping into his voice.

Renault's smile broadened, eyes twinkling with the promise of mischief. "I’m going to fill it with air and then put it on Sir Gerard’s seat at dinner. It will make it sound like he farted."

As if on cue, the councilors released a chorus of groans, a sound Renault was becoming all too familiar with. He scanned their faces, puzzled. "What?"

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