A retired judge updates his will and makes yet another pilgrimage to see the Dune of Doom.
(from Granta 117)
I haven’t read a ton of Stephen King — and I do believe there is a metric ton available — but I know a thing or two. I know It remains one of the most fucked up books of all time, not just for its violence and inventive scariness, but for all the disturbing stuff the story could have done without but which the author apparently could not. It’s just a batshit crazy story. (Wanna up the ante? Try the 45-hour audiobook version narrated by Steven Weber, of Wings fame.) I know that I read a short story of King’s a few years ago and it was damn good. I know everybody says to read On Writing and I’m gonna get to that soon. I know that in addition to his poignant movies (Stand By Me, Shawkshank Redemption) and his classic horror films (The Shining, Christine), there are all those guilty pleasure flicks like Needful Things and Thinner — narrow-focused stories that usually border on quaint or ridiculous but which are also their own genre, pretty much. If “The Dune” was gonna be a movie, and it won’t be without adding a ton of subplots and cameo role for the author, it would be that last kind. It’s a fun ride with a slow reveal, a spooky device and a good ol’ twisteroo at the end.