The Talisman is a tour de force by a pair of authors known respectively for horror and fantasy novels: Stephen King and Peter Straub.
The novel’s hero is 12-year-old Jack Sawyer. Jack’s father is dead; his mother, Lily, dying of cancer.
The pair are holed up in a New Hampshire hotel in the off-season to get away from his uncle, Morgan Sloat, who is trying to get Lily to sign over property she inherited on her husband’s death.
Jack meets an old, black handyman, who encourages Jack to journey into a parallel universe called “The Territories” to bring back the Talisman to cure his mother’s cancer.
Jack develops the ability to flip between universes. In the Territories, Jack pushes west, running into all kinds of nasty creatures—some bestial, some humanoid—on his odyssey to find the Talisman.
The Talisman oozes blood and gore, but the most frightening elements are those that are most closely modeled after 20th century America: An employer who takes advantage of his employees and a sadistic preacher who runs a home for boys with behavior problems.
The Talisman is proof that novel writing by committees, even a two-person committee, leaves a great deal to be desired
Making a movie version of a great book rarely turns out well. If E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, is anything to go by, turning a great movie into a book is a disaster.
Even people who didn’t see the movie know the general outline of the story: A being from outer space who comes to earth to gather botanical samples, misses the space ship trip home, and is befriended by an American kid, 10-year-old Elliott Thomas.
E.T. gets Elliott and the other two Thomas children, Gertie and Michael, to get him the additional parts he needs to build a transmitter from the Speak and Spell so he can contact his space ship and arrange to go home.
The entry of an UFO into American airspace hasn’t gone unnoticed.
All the resources of America’s government are on the trail of the extra-terrestrial.
They’re no match for the juvenile Dungeons & Dragons fans on bicycles who rush E.T. to the landing site just in time to catch his return flight.
The movie’s special effects made the silly story an entertaining fantasy suitable for children of all ages.
The book renders the story too ridiculous for any reader.
Jailbird is not what you’d expect from Kurt Vonnegut’s fertile imagination.
Jailbird is a fictional memoir combining a few oddball characters with a raft of real characters who commit immoral and criminal acts in public places.
Jailbird’s fictional narrator, Walter F. Starbuck, can do nothing right, even when he follows good advice.
The son of immigrant employees of a millionaire industrialist who sends him to Harvard, Walter holds a federal job until he inadvertently betrays a friend and is fired.
Walter’s wife to support him.
Walter finally gets work again in the Nixon administration, where he gets caught in the Watergate scandal and goes to jail.
Released in 1977, he goes to New York where he unlawfully fails to reveal a will and soon is on his way back to jail.
Vonnegut cannot avoid including a few laugh-out-loud wise cracks and off-beat perspectives on ordinary life, but on the whole Jailbird is a dark novel.
Vonnegut uses the fictional Walter to examine the real history of labor relations in the U.S., the Sacco and Vanzatti trial, the McCarthy investigations of subversive elements, and the unequal distribution of wealth in America.
Vonnegut’s Walter, when asked why he concerns himself with the working class responds, “Why? The Sermon on the Mount, sir.”
To the bestseller list in 1977 did The Silmarillionpenned by J. R. R. Tolkien, ascend, whose passing had some four years before occurred.
By Christopher son of Tolkien in filial duty from notebooks scribbled and aged were fitted his sire’s tales of the creation and of the First Age of the World wherein Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, dwelt in Middle-Earth, and the High Elves upon him made war to reclaim the Silmarils.
Those three great fiery jewels by Fëanor made to contain imperishable the glory of the Blessed Realm had Morgoth seized and within his crown had set, guarded within his fortress Angband.
Praised much has been the beauteous language of The Silmarillion but this reader wearied of that beauty, desiring ever the longer to see characters wherein distinguished could be Elf, or Man, or Dwarf without recourse required be to the Index of Names.
Of sentences long and cunningly crafted doth The Silmarillion consist, and rare it is for one to plainly speak and straightforward tell its tale with grammar clear and modifiers that squinteth not.
In the glory and the beauty of the Elves and in their fate may others find great pleasure, for me The Silmarillion delighteth not.
The Hollow Hills is Mary Stewart’s follow-up to her bestseller The Crystal Cave.
Stewart picks up where that story ended, giving just enough background that people who didn’t read the earlier work aren’t lost but dedicated Stewart readers aren’t bored.
Within days of his birth, Arthur is given into Merlin’s care. Arthur’s father, King Uther Pendragon, had sent the Duke of Cornwall into battle and then bedded the Duke’s wife while the Duke was dying on the battlefield.
Arthur is a bastard.
Uther hopes as his queen Ygraine will bear sons untainted by bastardy, but Uther wants Arthur kept safe just in case he has no legitimate male heir.
Most of The Hollow Hills relates Merlin’s travels between the time he secrets the baby away and the time he comes back to return Arthur to his father as his successor. Those chapters allow Stewart to display her considerable landscape word-painting skills.
The Hollow Hills has less hocus-pocus than Cave and better developed characters (although Merlin, his youthful sidekick Ralf, and Arthur each have about a quarter century’s more maturity than appropriate to their chronological ages).
Stewart isn’t to my taste, but The Hollow Hills gave me more to admire than others of her novels that I’ve read.
The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart
William Morrow, 1973. 490 p.
1973 bestseller #6. My grade: B