Stephen King’s specters, whether real or imaginary, carry deep meaning with them. The spirits materialize in their myriad ways–as a corrected patron of the Overlook Hotel, as a possessed 1958 cherry red Plymouth Fury, as a living hellscape embodied within the confines of a hotel room marked 1408, or more figuratively speaking, as the voice in a killer’s head that sounds just like the parent that used to torment them as a child. Yet all of his ghosts have one thing in common: they provide commentary for his characters’ perceived shortcomings. In his new novel and latest addition to the Holly Gibney-verse, Never Flinch, the legendary author reconciles with the familiar motif of being haunted, but this time with the fresh perspective that he’s gained from the wisdom that age provides.
In a move that feels very reminiscent of a younger, faster-paced, Dead Zone-era King, Never Flinch begins with three main storylines that eventually twist and overlap and culminate in one wildly spectacular grand finale. An unassuming local police department receives an anonymous threatening letter in the mail. A women’s rights advocate and public speaker sets out on a national tour with a target on her back. A world-renowned soul singer revives her iconic act and stirs up a small town. What starts as a slow burn quickly escalates into fireworks as King delivers his best book in years, and possibly his most thrilling entry in the Holly sub-series to date. Connecting the different storylines with an invisible string, King reflects on the entities that haunt us and the various addictions (be it drugs, alcohol, or yes, even prayer) that we employ to quell the aches of our early trauma. It’s an uncomfortable conversation that King instigates with a quick jab straight to the jugular. It’s a novel that feels like a jolt of inspiration rather than an obligation to the grind of a writer’s routine. An all-encompassing page-turner, Never Flinch is the rare work of a veteran author who’s perfected his craft but still manages to call forth the elusive muse that once drove his old bones forward.
Image Via Scribner
