Putting this as both reading in English and Swedish, because half of it I read in my physical Swedish copy and half of it online while at work. It's been a few not so busy workdays.

I'm always impressed with Stephen King's ability to write a book that spans an entire lifetime, because personally I struggle to keep a plot going for more than a few weeks whenever I write. And while this ends up with some parts that are just exposition ... I don't mind.

I was very close to giving this book five stars, but as can be expected from a King novel I wasn't completely sold on the ending. I think I expected something more along the lines of Pet Sematary, which I supposed he couldn't really do without repeating himself. Instead we got something more similar to From a Buick 8, and that book was also great until the ending. Though, neither endings completely ruined the book for me, especially not given how much I enjoyed the ride up to that point.

Because it is a long, creepy ride. Maybe more like a crawl. It's pretty obvious where all the electrical experiments are eventually going to go, if from nowhere else than from the title, but the fact that it takes its time getting there is not a bad thing. I can see why the character would not realize that until it was way too late though.

Also: lesbians. Not much of it, but lesbians. ( )

What a long, strange trip it has been. I have been reading Stephen King for probably 30 years. When I was in Jr. High I used to sneak away from my mom at Wal-Mart to buy paperbacks, and hide them in my pockets until I could get to the privacy of my room. My mother was not a fan, you could say.

I loved those books. I loved the goriness, the crafty little turns of phrase, and the depiction of rurality that I recognized (being from rural Kansas, I guess there's not that much difference between little prairie towns and little New England towns). Over the years, I came to see what King himself called his "salami-making." These were fine, creepy yarns, sometimes even gutwrenchingly sad (Oh, Henry...). But they weren't "Litrachure." King had no pretensions of deep exploration of the human condition, he wrote scary stories to read in the dark.

But now, as I approach middle age, I'm starting to question that truism. Because there are stories like Hearts in Atlantis, or The Body, or this one, Revival, that seem to transcend the rough-ground spiciness of, say, Christine. It might just be the decades of life that have come to inform the writer's thinking. Or it might be the decades of life that have come to inform this reader. But somehow, I think King is tapping into a deeper vein these days.

Revival is at the same time a memoir of a life not wholly unlike Kings, a love letter to the origins of a certain brand of horror, and a look at what makes the first so good, and the last so bad.

For roughly the first half of the book, we read the story of Jamie's life as something not entirely unusual. There are the purely human pains of tragedy and disillusionment. There are also the more mundane growing pains of rough big brothers, feeling your way through first love, and addiction. There is little that could be called supernatural or ominous, apart from what Jamie himself alludes to in hindsight.

This is a slow burn. It builds a living character, a life of complexity and reality that other writers would rush through. But King does not rush here. He takes his time, because this weaving is what makes the latter half punch so hard.

In the latter half, the ominous shadow of Charles Daniel Jacobs (Charlie Daniels and the Devil in Georgia, huh?) grows heavy, and the threads of the weave begin to darken with the taint of Lovecraft, Derleth, and Machen (three names mentioned right at the top of the book...). For this book is as pure an expression of cosmic horror as any you'll find. Jacobs, the reverend of Jamie's youth, is desperate to tap into the powers that run the world behind the world, no matter the cost...

And the cost is great. Because this ending gathers up those threads of youth woven so slowly in the beginning of the book and brings them back to the end to come full circle. The joys of youth become the pain of age, now tainted with darkness from beyond the veil.

It's masterful.

And yet, there is still some salami here. Because King does what other cosmic horrors often avoided: he made the implicit explicit. He describes in detail what lays behind the veil, and in so doing removes much of its more lingering power. There is still dread here, but I can't help but think its was blunted by that choice.

I still think that this is one of the best expressions of King's strength, his characters, and leverages that strength to make a genuinely unsettling horror story. Revival is maybe the best of King, and a transcendence of the limits he placed on himself so long ago. ( )

Difficile dare un giudizio, buono o meno, a caldo stavolta. Il libro è prima un romanzo di formazione, poi un opera sul rock'n'roll, infine un horror. King dimostra ancora una volta di saperci fare con ogni genere, essere sempre immenso nella caratterizzazione dei personaggi e nelle descrizioni, ma le idee (ahimè) non sembrano più quelle di un tempo. Una buona storia comunque, quasi un Frankenstein in chiave moderna, ma fin oltre metà libro non si capisce dove voglia andare a parare. E ciò che manca, è un villain degno di nota, qualcuno che trasuda cattiveria vera (Leland Gaunt, Randall Flagg, Pennywise ci mancate tanto ^^).
Da sottolineare, tutti i riferimenti che il Fedele Lettore non può non notare, il numero 19, Joyland, il Ka... ( )

This might be the only SK book with an ending that's better than the rest. King's the master of spending a thousand pages writing checks the last fifty can't cash. Not so here. I have plenty of bones to pick but Jesus, what an ending. Genuinely horrifying. The first 2/3 are honestly skimmable.

I can't help picturing Jacobs as Robert Mitchum. ( )

Another great Stephen King novel. ( )