Stephen King, Misery

Just a couple of days ago, I’ve finished reading the book Misery by Stephen King. When I chose Misery for reading among many others, I had been in search of something compelling to delve into already for two weeks. Therefore, when this book from the first pages made me fascinated and intrigued, I was only grateful. 

I wish I had known about it earlier since that was turned out to be one of the most horrible and eerie stories I’ve ever read. Stephen King has already found a place in my heart with his other novels, such as The Dark Tower, The Dead Zone, and Confrontation. Yet I didn’t anticipate finding a book that would, in the strict sense, glued me to the pages, forcing me to ignore all my day-to-day tasks and concerns.

I wish King would write a sequel to this book, but unfortunately, there’s only one story of Misery. Nevertheless, it’s absolutely worth reading since I cannot recall another book where an author with such mastery creates a frightening atmosphere, suspense and drama. Given that I’ve been reading since I was five and obviously by now could already have found other creepy stories, I can only assume that King is one of the most influential and talented authors in horror fiction. 

For a couple of weeks during which I read Misery, I couldn’t get rid of the constant feeling of tension and unease that kept accompanying me every evening. I was slightly nervous and vigilant, checking to see if the door was locked, and the faucets weren’t leaking. And I knew that this was really not like me. Only later did I really understand that excessive psychological tension within me had been created by the book. Misery made me frightened and tense, always in anticipation of upcoming, intense changes in the plot. While I was turning the pages, I wondered how the author was able to create even more suspense in this story with every chapter. 

I was always thinking I’m mentally stable, able to distinguish reality from phantasy, and not take seriously horror stories. Even so, it seems I was wrong since I was all agog about the characters' tortures and sudden plot changes on every page of Misery. When I started reading that book, I was going to finish it in a couple of days. I was going to put it aside on a shelf as I do with lots of books I don’t like. They are staying in my bookcase, waiting until I give them to friends or exchange them by book swapping. But, it was the complete opposite with the Misery. I read it, savouring every page and postponing every chapter, realising that sooner or later, that book would finish. I knew that I wouldn't be enjoying any other book in the same way for a while yet, so I was trying to boost my pleasure. 

After finishing it, I’ve been thinking for a while about the fact that I’m not a novelist, and how grateful I am that I’m not. If I had been a novelist, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy reading in the same way I can do it now. Generally, I would have dissected a plot on the parts, fleshed out all the characters, mulled over all the relationships , and so on. It might have also been pleasurable, but I wouldn’t have experienced such a pleasure as I got as a reader. 

Misery let me dive deep into the horrific story of a talented writer and a nurse with psychotic behaviour. I lived their lives as though they were mine but still had the opportunity to observe everything from a safe distance. This story not only showed me the unbelievable horror of being a mentally ill person, who has a dangerously ramshackle, irrational mind. It also opened my eyes to the nightmarish realities of sharing life with such a person.

I won't claim that this story is a masterpiece of literature. However, it's definitely a clear demonstration of the capacity of literature to provide an immersive experience for its readers. Misery is not a far-fetched horror tale for children but a full-fledged opportunity for readers to live in the real horror, albeit only for 480 pages.

Just a couple of days ago, I’ve finished reading the book, Misery by Stephen King. When I chose Misery to read among others, I had been in search of something compelling to delve into already for the past two weeks. Therefore, when this book fascinated me from the first pages, I was over the moon.

I wish I had known about it earlier it turned out to be one of the most horrible and eerie stories I’ve ever read. Stephen King has already found a place in my heart with his other novels, such as The Dark Tower, The Dead Zone, and Confrontation. Yet I didn’t anticipate finding a book that would, in the strict sense, glue me to the pages, forcing me to ignore all my day-to-day tasks and concerns.

I wish King would write a sequel to this book, but unfortunately, there’s only one story of Misery. Nevertheless, it’s absolutely worth reading since I cannot recall another book where an author with such mastery creates a frightening atmosphere, suspense and drama. Given that I’ve been reading since I was five and obviously by now could already have found other creepy stories, I can only assume that King is one of the most influential and talented authors in horror fiction. 

For a couple of weeks while reading Misery, I couldn’t get rid of the constant feeling of tension and unease that kept accompanying me every evening. I was slightly nervous and vigilant, checking to see if the door was locked, and the faucets weren’t leaking. And I knew that this was really not like me. Only later did I really understand that excessive psychological tension within me had been created by the book. Misery made me frightened and tense, always in anticipation of upcoming, intense changes in the plot. While I was turning the pages, I wondered how the author was able to create even more suspense in this story with every chapter. 

I always thought that I was mentally stable, able to distinguish reality from fantasy, and not take seriously horror stories. Even so, it seemed I was wrong since I was all agog about the characters' tortures and sudden plot changes in every page of Misery. When I started reading that book, I was going to finish it in a couple of days. I was going to put it aside on a shelf as I do with lots of books I don’t like. They are staying in my bookcase, waiting until I give them to friends or exchange them by book swapping. But, it was the complete opposite with Misery. I read it, savouring every page and postponing every chapter, realising that sooner or later, that book would end. I knew that I wouldn't be enjoying any other book in the same way for a while yet, so I was trying to boost my pleasure. 

After finishing it, I’ve been thinking for a while about the fact that I’m not a novelist, and how grateful I am that I’m not. If I had been a novelist, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy reading in the same way I can do it now. I would have dissected a plot into parts, fleshed out all the characters, mulled over all the relationships, and so on. It might have also been pleasurable, but I wouldn’t have experienced such a pleasure as I got as a reader. 

Misery let me dive deep into the horrific story of a talented writer and a nurse with psychotic behaviour. I lived their lives as though they were mine but still had the opportunity to observe everything from a safe distance. This story not only showed me the unbelievable horror of being a mentally ill person, who has a dangerously ramshackle, irrational mind. It also opened my eyes to the nightmarish realities of sharing life with such a person.

I won't claim that this story is a masterpiece of literature. However, it's definitely a clear demonstration of the capacity that literature can provide to immersive readers in the world. Misery is not a far-fetched horror tale for children but a full-fledged opportunity for readers to live in the real horror, albeit only for 480 pages.