"He sat down on one of the stools and propped his elbows on the bar’s leather-cushioned edge. At his left hand was a bowl for peanuts – now empty, of course. The first bar he’d been in for nineteen months and the damned thing was dry – just his luck. All the same, a bitterly powerful wave of nostalgia swept over him, and the physical craving for a drink seemed to work itself up from his belly to his throat to his mouth and nose, shriveling and wrinkling the tissues as it went, making them cry out for something wet and long and cold."
- Stephen King, The Shining
A lot of terrifying things occur in The Shining. None of them are as terrifying as the excruciating battle fought between the ears of an alcoholic. Stephen King’s novel is a classic ghost story; it is also a painful portrait of a man’s mental breakdown.
That man is Jack Torrance, a gifted writer who has squandered his talent with booze and a bad temper. He and his family – wife Wendy, young son Danny – are wintering at the Overlook, a hotel in the Colorado mountains with a long and checkered past. Jack has been given a job as the caretaker of the Overlook. It’s his last chance to make good after losing a teaching position at a prestigious prep school. All he has to do is keep the rooms heated, provide basic upkeep, and make minor repairs. He thinks the job will give him plenty of time to finish the play he has been laboring on. The only trick is the isolation. Once the snows move in, they will make the winding mountain roads impassable. The Overlook will be cut off. It’s the perfect spot to do some writing, go homicidally crazy, or both.
The genius of The Shining is the simplicity of its setting. Isolated location. Spirit infested living accommodations. Precocious child. All these story elements are exceedingly familiar. Layered onto this foundation is King’s exploration of Jack’s increasingly fragile psyche. King is at the height of his powers in his evocation of Jack. He makes visceral the taste of crushed aspirin, the piercing headaches, the desperate thirst for a drink. Jack is a complex character, at once a loving husband, a doting father, a grade-A prick, and a self-destructive wreck.
King is known for outsized epics with dozens of characters. Here, he pares things down to four main players. Besides Jack there are Wendy, Danny, and Dick Hallorann, the Overlook’s chef. King cleverly utilizes a third-person limited viewpoint, which allows him a tell the story through several eyes, giving him the ability to both widen and narrow the focus at his whim.
After Jack, Danny is the most important figure. He has “the shine”, a kind of ESP that includes mental telepathy, sensitivity to the paranormal, mind reading, and the gift of prophecy. (The ability to predict the future is not his best talent, though. If it was, the story would have turned out differently). Danny’s abilities allow him to perceive the danger of the Overlook Hotel – and its poisonous effect on his father – long before anyone else.
I think King’s major achievement is the way he grounds the weirdness in reality. He is methodical in building this limited world (the Overlook, the town of Sidewinder) and sketching its handful of characters. His plotting takes a bit of time, but there is a reason. Take, for instance, an early scene in which Jack and Wendy take Danny to a psychiatrist. The upshot is that the psychiatrist gives a mushy-mumbly diagnosis of Danny’s “special” abilities that momentarily soothes his parents. It’s a scene that could easily have been excised, since it’s clear the doctor is wrong, and it’s obvious that Danny’s abilities are beyond rational explanation. The value of keeping it, though, is that it more firmly roots the proceedings in the actual world. Eventually, King cuts loose and unleashes all manner of insanity. Some of it, frankly, is a bit goofy. However, all the work he has done setting up his endgame paid off. I believed so much that I didn't bat an eye once the hotel came – for lack of a better phrase – to life.
The Shining is a slow simmering tale that eventually explodes in the unrestrained violence and gore that has made King wealthy beyond imagining. (Of course, compared to some of his other titles, The Shining is practically subtle). The ending is something that is foreshadowed early on; unlike the producers of Friends, I will not spoil it for those who’ve managed to avoid learning it. I’m not sure I’m a huge fan of how King concludes things, but I liked the lead-up so much that I can let that pass. I appreciated the slow turning of the screws, the gradual accretion of detail, the building of tension before it all boils over.
I suppose a brief mention of Kubrick’s famous movie version is in order. I’ve heard that King hated it, and I can totally see why. Jack Nicholson plays Jack Torrance as already half-crazy by the time the title card is shown. It’s hard to take his portrayal seriously when his eyes are screaming I’m a psycho! from the very first scene. The film version of Jack Torrance is an exercise in Jack Nicholson seeing if he can out-Jack Nicholson himself. (He does). I like Kubrick’s The Shining, for its formal brilliance if nothing more. The novel, as is often the case, is far superior.
The book version of Jack Torrance is far different from his cinematic shadow. He begins as a deeply flawed man with an ugly past, a serious addiction, and a nasty streak a mile wide. But he is also a man who loves – or believes he loves – his wife and child. You see flashes of a good man, a man you don’t want to see destroyed. The erosion of Jack’s mind and soul is The Shining’s narrative backbone. King paints an indelible portrait. Jack chewing Excedrin after Excedrin. Jack wiping his lips till they bleed. Jack trying to distract himself from the thought of a drink. Jack trying to reconcile the man he wanted to be with the man he has demonstrated to the world. This is a fully realized and unforgettable character. It’s an accomplishment, and a testament to King’s skill. A skill, perhaps, that is sometimes overlooked.
I am slowly making my way through Stephen King’s extensive canon. So far, my favorite has been Pet Sematary, where King uses a ghoulish conceit (an Indian burial ground that can bring the dead back to life) to explore a very real human concern (loss and grief). He touched such powerful chords with that book that I hesitate to ever open it again. It’s becoming very clear to me that King is a genius. An artist of the first order. Not just a top-notch storyteller. Not just a guy with an incredible imagination. But a bona fide literary master. He writes things that you read and don’t forget, ever.
A lot of wacky and macabre things happen at the Overlook during the course of The Shining. The tension, the shocks, the slow revelation of the lurking terror, are all things that will keep you turning pages with increasing rapidity. It is also the reason that The Shining (along with King’s other works) is so obviously translatable to film. But the reason this is unforgettable is the framework that King builds upon. The horror of the supernatural is not nearly so deep and so dread as that which passes between flawed human beings.