Hard Case Crime, 2013
Written for the Hard Case Crime line of paperback novels, Stephen King’s Joyland may look like a duck — with its tantalizing pulp cover making promises of sex and violence — but it definitely doesn’t quack. In fact, it’s another kind of animal altogether, a coming of age tale tinged with the bittersweet tang of nostalgia and the wistful remembrances of what was and what might have been.
This isn’t new territory for King. Anyone who’s read him at all knows that this is his stomping ground and when he’s firing on all cylinders, nobody does it better. It isn’t done badly here either (there are some great passages filled with humor and insight), it’s just that the effort and subsequent result feel lackluster overall. The characters are fleshed out just enough to move the story along and give King some hooks to hang his “looking back on it now” philosophizing, but stacked up against King’s pantheon of memorable characters, the ones found in the pages of Joyland are easily forgotten (at least by me).
I almost think this little book suffers from the schism of an identity crisis. King has in his hands a paranormal crime plot replete with a garish 1970’s amusement park setting haunted by the ghost of a murdered young woman. This being Hard Case Crime, I was keen to get King’s take on hard-boiled noir or just full on pulp. I looked forward to sensationalist violence, cheap thrills and snappy, stylistic dialogue (and no, sorry Uncle Stevie, but you don’t win any points for injecting the patter of carny speak on every other page).
King can’t stop himself from telling an entirely different kind of story about a young man with a broken heart and his extended summer spent growing up and getting on. It’s a story of emotions and memories and the metaphor of a flying kite and the panoramic view from a giant Ferris wheel. It’s 80% middle-aged navel-gazing and youthful angst. The other 20% consisting of uncovering the identity of a murderous predator and revealing the details behind a haunting feel tacked on as afterthoughts. In this case, for Hard Case, I would have much rather seen those ratios reversed.
Still, while it wasn’t the novel I wanted or expected, Joyland is a sweet story, a little maudlin in places, but enjoyable nevertheless. Constant Reasers will take pleasure in immersing themselves for a little while in a Kingscape that feels both familiar and satisfying.
It’s good people, it’s just not all that it’s quacked up to be.