“‘The price on this one is very right. You could do it and spend the rest of your life someplace warm. Drinking pina coladas in a hammock.’ [Nick] busts out the big grin again. ‘Two million. Five hundred thousand up front, the rest after.’
Billy’s whistle isn’t part of the act, which he doesn’t think of as an act but as his dumb self, the one he shows to guys like Nick…It’s like a seatbelt. You don’t use it because you expect to be in a crash, but you never know who you might meet coming over a hill on your side of the road. This is also true on the road of life, where people veer all over the place and drive the wrong way on the turnpike.
‘Why so much?’ The most he’s ever gotten on a contract was seventy K. ‘It’s not a politician, is it? Because I don’t do that.’
‘Not even close.’
‘Is it a bad person?’
Nick laughs and shakes his head, and looks at Billy with real affection. ‘Always the same question with you…’”
- Stephen King, Billy Summers
Billy Summers is a book I probably wouldn’t have picked up if it didn’t have Stephen King’s name at the top of the front cover. And if I had picked it up, I certainly wouldn’t have finished. This novel is an inconsistent stew of tired setups, poorly developed characters, and so many logical gaps that this is mostly a hole, with bits of plot floating around.
But of course this is written by Stephen King, who is not simply one of the world’s bestselling authors – a list that includes a lot of disposable fiction – but the creator of numerous unforgettable masterpieces. Based on reputation alone, this is worth checking out.
Ultimately, I found Billy Summers to be a mess, lacking rhythm and coherence. It feels more like three books stuck together to form one big one. Unfortunately, out of the three parts, only one shows that rare King spark of genius. Yet, at over five-hundred overstuffed pages, no one can accuse King of phoning this thing in. Furthermore, he has gotten to the point where even his failures are worth studying, if only to decide where it fits into his larger body of work.
***
Because this is such a shaggy, shambling novel, taking an incredibly long time for its true purpose to be revealed, it is difficult to summarize without venturing into spoiler-land. Suffice to say, Billy Summers is focused on the title character, a former Marine sniper who served in Iraq, and has now become a professional hitman.
The animating event in Billy Summers is Billy’s decision to accept a contract to kill a fellow hitman, who has been arrested in Los Angeles for murder, and is set to be extradited to the fictional town of Red Bluff in an unnamed southern state.
Right away, two things about Billy are worth mentioning.
First, Billy wants out, and this is going to be his “last job.” The criminal’s last job is among the hoariest of formulas, and King spends a lot of time mentioning that, apparently operating under the belief that acknowledging a cliché somehow freshens it. In reality, this has become its own kind of cliché.
Second, Billy only kills “bad guys.” Again, the criminal with a code is an exhausted trope, and King does nothing to breathe any life into it. If you are expecting King to meditate deeply on “bad” and “good,” you will be disappointed. The moral paradigm of Billy Summers never gets more complicated than black-and-white, decent-and-evil.
***
Billy Summers exists in King’s expanded Castle Rock universe, the alternate world that contains Derry, Jerusalem’s Lot, and Shawshank Prison. We know this because there is an extended – and jarringly unnecessary – callback to one of King’s most famous earlier works. Despite the existence of ghosts, vampires, and other supernatural horrors in King-land, Billy Summers is putatively grounded in basic human reality. Thus, it has to make at least some objective sense.
It does not.
***
Confining myself only to the first third of the novel, there are still enough eyeroll moments to cause a pretty serious headache.
It starts with the plan, which is entirely idiotic and doomed to abject failure from the start. To wit: Billy is supposed to kill this incarcerated hitman in Red Bluff while he is being transferred from a jail van to the courthouse for an arraignment. In order to be ready to take this shot, everyone agrees that Billy should live near Red Bluff so that he can be ready whenever the target is extradited.
This is nonsensical, of course. There is absolutely no reason for Billy to wait around town while the target fights extradition. All it does is exponentially increase the likelihood of arrest.
Not only does Billy come into town months in advance, but he does so in the loudest way possible. He is given a memorably unsubtle cover story of a writer; he is given a leased office space; he is introduced to the security guard, and has his picture taken; he spends weeks at the office, getting his fingerprints and DNA everywhere; he meets dozens of people, and even sleeps with one. Instead of taking a small, unobtrusive apartment, he moves into a neighborhood, and immediately insinuates himself into the lives of all his neighbors (which leads me to believe that King no longer knows how neighborhoods work).
For some reason, everyone – including Billy – agrees that embedding oneself in a community preparatory to first-degree murder is a great idea. This is worth noting, as everything that happens in Billy Summers is driven by Billy’s poor decision making, which is usually prefaced by Billy’s realization that he is making a poor decision. Billy falls into the character trap I call the Idiot-Genius Paradox. This is when you have a protagonist who is smart enough to get himself out of any corner, but is also too dumb to avoid corners in the first place.
This is all patently absurd, but easily explicable as a function of King’s obsession with writers, which itself is an offshoot of his obsession with himself.
***
The writer’s plight is one of Stephen King’s most treasured recurring themes. Whether it’s Jack Torrance or Paul Sheldon, King often presents the creative process as a herculean intellectual effort, deserving of our awe and praise.
To that end, big chunks of Billy Summers – as in Misery – are devoted to a book-within-a-book. Yes, that’s right. Once Billy agrees to take on the ridiculous persona of a first-time novelist, he actually decides to write one.
So, while we wait for Billy’s target to arrive – and while Billy makes sure that everyone in Red Bluff can positively identify him as the eventual shooter – we get an extended sequence in which King takes a crack at a war novel.
The thing is, the book-within-a-book sort of works, and I initially thought that Billy Summers might have been a Trojan horse, an unapologetically cheap genre vehicle for King to deliver an entirely different kind of tale than he typically does.
But then King switches things again, and not for the better.
***
King is such a natural storyteller that his weaknesses and tics – the pop-cultural spew, the fat-shaming, the navel gazing – are all usually forgivable. Sometimes, the excess is part of the charm. In Billy Summers, though, I was incredibly aware of the shoddy construction.
I’ve already noted the issues with common sense and characterizations. Beyond that the pacing is all off, and can be roughly capitulated as: extended introduction; long lull; crackerjack action sequence; long lull; a change in plans; a really long lull; a ludicrous and nonsensical action sequence; another long lull; an even more ludicrous and nonsensical action sequence; and then the wrap up. King is also unusually sloppy with regard to narrative imperatives, waiting until late in the third act to reveal the true villain, by which point there’s not enough time to get the audience to care.
Perhaps realizing that things were not working perfectly, King engages in some trickery that he telegraphs with his numerous – and a bit insufferable – literary references. Whether this is enough to save the book, or whether it’s just a sign of desperation, is a personal preference. It didn’t save Billy Summers for me.
***
Stephen King has gotten to the point where he can scratch out a drunken limerick on a napkin and not only get it published, but end up on the bestseller lists. With a half-billion in the bank, he can safely take a risk. In a way, Billy Summers is low-key daring, a weird and unwieldy tome constructed entirely of spare parts. Still, at this stage in his career, it’d be nice to see him go outside his comfort zone, exploring new ideas rather than revisiting the same old motifs.