It

Dear Lord, I feel like I've lost twenty-seven years of my own life, struggling to re-read this bloated monstrosity of a pulp horror story! I first read It around twenty years ago, when I might have been revisiting a small crush on the late Jonathan Brandis, who played the 1958 version of Bill Denbrough in the film adaptation. And since I obviously never learn my lesson, nostalgia got the better of me recently, and I borrowed a copy of the novel from the library, thinking I could get away with re-reading for free. Only I forgot how long-winded King is, and had to plump for a cheap second-hand copy of my own in the end.

Anyway. Was reliving the experience worth £3.00? Almost. I do like the concept, which is sort of like an eeevil version show more of the Red Dwarf episode 'Legion', in which a lone alien feeds on the imaginations of the crew to entice and then enslave new companions. 'It' is not a space spider, but that is the closest the kids' imaginations can get to comprehending its true form. 'It' is also the diabolical heart of the small town of Maine, where death and destruction are commonplace, and children are sacrificed every twenty-seven years or so. Seven children - the 'Losers' - band together in the late 1950s to try and fight 'It' with innocence and imagination, then have to regroup in the late 1980s as adults when the killing in Derry starts again.

All to the good. What is wrong with It? In a name, Stephen King. He just goes on and on and on, repeating words (chitinous) and phrases ('Will the monster be bested ... Or will it feed?') to plump a 300 page novel into 1000 plus page doorstop. Also, the characters are deeply annoying, and he has a worrying obsession with the bodies of pre-pubescent girls (stop talking about Beverley's breasts, man, she's eleven!) I may also have mentioned that I cannot stand King's rose-tinted nostalgia for the 1950s, when real men beat their wives and real women stayed at home to take the abuse. Kids were ritually bullied, and god forbid any of the main characters might turn out to be gay (no sir, all dysfunctional heterosexual relationships here!), but hey, at least there was rock and roll and Flanderised phrases like 'okey-dokey'. I'm hoping that 'It' is intended to be a metaphor for the dark undercurrent running beneath the sepia-toned memories of small town America, because if not, I'm on the side of the space spider.

A lot of rambling and vomit-inducing reminiscing, but one of King's better novels, even after twenty years. show less

Wow! What an incredible book! I have seen all the adaptations and came to the source material late. Astounding what got cut from the movies, the stuff that makes it really scary (also, that IT is female?) and what really communicates the themes of unity, friendship, and the power of belief. I teared up at the end as Big Bill takes Audra on Silver, and that Mike and Bill were the last ones. It had to end that way but it really tore at me! Richie's last call with Mike was also heartbreaking. But that's the way of childhood, right? Those kids went from ready to die for Big Bill -- and they did -- to not remembering his name. The things that united me with my friends as a child -- and now the ones I do remember, I can't draw their faces in show more my mind. Some of the details were almost flabbergasting, that he froze a slice of America perfectly in amber for eternity. The songs, the sounds, the soap smells. Loved that Bruce Springsteen was all over it. Just loved it. I can't commit to reading it every year, but I can commit to not taking it to the second hand bookstore for in store credit. I will revisit IT again, maybe in two years when I'm 38 like they are in 1984. What an accomplishment! show less

Um longo livro, em que, segundo minha experiência, se você enfrentar as primeiras 400 páginas, respirar fundo e seguir, as últimas 400 mais que compensam. Não que seja inicialmente desafiador de ler pela escrita, que é ágil e realista, mas sim pela ambição narrativa. Esta exige um vai e vem entre infância e a fase adulta, para desembocar ao final num dos fechamentos de livro mais tocantes sobre companheirismo, memória e infância. Ao mesmo tempo, pelo fato de que o monstro cósmico, "o isso", se confunde com a própria cidade e seu palhaço, King prepara uma imersão gradativa nesta, pra desembocar nos enfrentamentos aterrorizadores entrelaçados ao monstro, ao final do livro. E então temos muitos episódios medonhos na e da show more cidade de Derry, com seu clima pernicioso interiorano preconceituoso das décadas de 50 e 80. E este local deve servir de referência, para comparação com os outros. E vamos comprando esse vai e vem, na tentativa desesperada do clube dos perdedores, as 7 crianças, de, depois de velhos, sair e desfazer o ciclo malévolo que os reuniu. show less

A Masterclass in Childhood Terror and Adult Dread

Stephen King's It is far more than a horror novel about a killer clown—it's an epic, deeply layered exploration of friendship, memory, and the monsters we carry with us into adulthood. At 1,104 pages, King takes his time, and that patience pays off. The novel alternates between two timelines: the Losers Club as children in 1958, confronting an ancient evil in the sewers of Derry, Maine, and their return as adults in 1985, forced to honor a blood oath they barely remember making. What elevates It beyond standard horror is King's profound understanding of childhood. The Losers aren't just victims; they're fully realized kids—bullied, abused, neglected, ignored—who find something rare show more in each other: genuine loyalty. Their bond feels authentic, messy, and deeply moving. King writes childhood fear with unsettling precision: the way terror shrinks your world, how adults seem willfully blind, and how the things that haunt you at ten never truly let go.

Pennywise, the dancing clown, is iconic for good reason. But the true horror of Derry lies in the town itself—a place where cruelty festers and bystanders look away. The supernatural elements work because they're grounded in real human evil: domestic violence, homophobia, racism, and apathy. King suggests that It doesn't create Derry's darkness; it feeds on what's already there. The novel isn't flawless—some passages meander, and certain scenes test the reader's comfort—but the emotional core remains powerful and earned. It is ultimately a story about memory and courage. The children fight because they must; the adults return because they promised. In King's universe, that's enough. That belief—that love and loyalty can stand against ancient evil—is what makes this more than horror. It's a dark, sprawling, occasionally messy masterpiece about growing up and refusing to let the monsters win. show less

This book epitomises everything which is great and everything which is awful about Stephen King. The plot focuses on the city of Derry, King’s Maine creation where evil stalks the streets and preys upon the warped and unpleasant characters that make up the population. This particular evil, embodied in the form of the murderous clown Pennywise, recurs on a 27-year cycle, and manifests as murder, disappearance of children and general mayhem. The ideas are great and the tension builds and builds and builds until you really think it can’t get any greater.

However, this is an immensely long novel because King’s big fault is that he overwrites everything. The simplest of concepts, such as a man is going to leave home abruptly to catch a show more plane, can take forty pages. At the time you don’t mind it as the writing is good, but when you’re more than 200 pages in and things are still in the very early stages of set up, it can be frustrating. It’s daunting to be facing this brick of a book.

As an aspiring writer myself, I read King’s account of the process he goes through to edit his work. Allegedly he always cuts out 10% of the material from the first draft, even if he likes it. I really find this hard to believe as you’d never say a King novel is tightly worded. It gets to the point where, as a reader I find myself thinking about the writing style as much as the story and that’s not a good thing. At some points I just couldn’t focus on what was happening or could only read for a few minutes at a time because the endless tangents were so distracting.

I like the meandering up until the point where it irritates me. Whilst it can help to build the tension, it can also defuse it. I love the portrayal of New England and the way in which King captures the petty meanness of school bullies and the prejudices people hold against anyone who is different. It is a good exposition on the blinkered vision and complexity of childhood, and the importance of friendship.

The ending of It is a controversial one, as it includes a scene which many people feel steps over a line in terms of children and sex. I don’t personally find it offensive, but it would be right to question the need to have it. It’s not a wise plot device to employ and I wonder if Mr King would make that choice if he were writing it today.

I’ve read this three times now and have always enjoyed it. One big plus point in favour of the vastness is that I couldn’t remember a lot of details this time around. show less

Bueno. Lo intentaré.

Empecemos por una afirmación que nadie se esperaba venir: Stephen King tiene retazos de costumbrismo. Este libro es uno de los mejores ejemplos. Mike Hanlon que espera la llegada de la época de cosechas para treparse con su padre a un tractor construido con la mitad de un coche, la mitad de un sofá que se encontraron tirado por ahí; capítulo y medio dedicado a narrar la cotidaneidad infantil de un personaje. ¿Y cuál es el efecto? Que nos comprometamos, nos preocupemos, que sintamos a los personajes de King como personas a las que conocemos. Incluso como amigos.

Todos tuvimos infancia. Incluso los que teníamos prohibido mirar Dragon Ball. Por eso "It" llega a todas partes. No sólo se cimenta en la show more indefensión de la niñez junto con la fe casi absoluta de la etapa (arma indispensable para partirle su mandarina en gajos al monstruito), sino que va más allá y crea un vampiro lovecraftiano de naturaleza insondable. Una bestia que es apenas una partícula de polvo en la dimensión caótica de la que proviene.

Vampiro Locecraftiano que imprime el sabor del miedo y la desazón a toda carne que quiera consumir. Por lo que sólo puede ser combatido usando como arma el mismo acto reflejo con el que encaramos todo miedo: la (ilusión) certeza de que más allá de la podredumbre nos espera el calor de lo que amamos. show less

IT was my first horror book, and it remains my favorite book, period. Part of my fascination and love for it is rooted in that teenage nostalgia. I spent so much of my childhood looking up at my mom's bookshelf, running my small fingers along her King paperbacks, living in fear of their horrific covers, that when my time came to pick up my first King book and read through it, it was something of a revelation.

Now, reading it for the umpteenth time (I try to read it annually if I can), I've come to respect and adore it on a different level. The final 20 pages or so, where King discusses the fleeting beauty of childhood, and the melancholy relinquishing of that innocence for something as burdensome, but equally profound, as adulthood, show more nearly brings me to tears every time. It feels like a swan song in a lot of ways, and as I get older I understand that melancholy more.

"Not all boats which sail into darkness never find the sun again, or the hand of another child; if life teaches anything at all, it teaches that there are so many happy endings that man who believes there is no God needs his rationality called into serious question."

That's my favorite line in this mammoth tome (yes, even with its lighthearted jab at my heathen soul), and I think it drives at the heart of why I love IT so much.

IT hasn't aged immaculately. I do skip a certain section of the book every time (those who have read it know which part I mean) and I think a case could be made that, even if honest and truthful for the time, the racial and homophobic slurs give the book a certain cutting edge that makes it hard to approach in 2022. All the same, the story here -- the characters, the horror, the fear, the hope, and, ultimately, the bittersweet tang it leaves the reader with -- is why I return to it, and why I don't think I'll ever shake it. Because, in many ways, picking it up makes me feel like that 14-year-old again, in his high school library, discovering something profound and lifechanging. show less