Stephen King has a filthy, filthy mind
So, onward my 2010 resolution, eh?
I finished Duma Key by Stephen King in which I realized just how much of a filthy mind the writer's got. I mean seriously filthy. It makes me think that he and Tabitha must have an amazing sex life. I love it. And more to that, I loved the book. I think I identified with Edgar Freemantle more than any other character he's written. I don't know if it is because of the parallels between his stump and my panhypopituitarism. I mean, it really does make me angry sometimes. Angry enough to spit.
Like there was this conversation I had with these two women as I was re-upping my gym membership as one thought I was under 18 (I'm nearly 33) and when I said how old I was, both women said 'good for you'. And then I laughed and told them, 'sure if you want to be infertile, be on two pills for the rest of your life and a patch for testosterone that makes crop circles on your body'. They sort of just shut up at that point. As I left I grinned back at them just for spite.
I also rant to myself too. I mean, jesus. Why the hell does GQ have a cover of a rapist on their magazine right now? That shit don't fly homey.
Any ways, I loved Duma Key. I loved the supernatural aspects of it, but I loved the central characters more than anything.
And here's the really, really weird part: it's first person narrative.
And if you know me, you know I absolutely loathe first person narrative.
But the book could not have been in any other narrative given the nature of the beast (painting).
I'd definitely recommend it. Especially if you've lost someone or something.