No End to the Universe…
This is a section heading of Stephen King’s latest book The Outsider. It’s also something one of the characters contemplates as he stares up at the night sky on a clear night. And, I don’t know, it’s something to think about when we start thinking too much about ourselves.
It’s also something to think about as a writer. Writers have the ability to create whole new worlds. They create characters, breathing life into the pages they write.
I can’t think of a more humbling experience. To create universes. To share my vision with others. To tell a story.
I think that’s what I like best about King’s work. It pushes the boundaries. It stretches the imagination. He creates characters who are perfectly and wonderfully flawed that you root for and hate in turn. He makes you think and believe in magic.
Then there’s the fact that we have no idea how far the Universe extends. There is literally no end to the Universe. Mind blowing. Humbling. And more than a little scary.
As far as King’s latest novel, I highly recommend it. I was a little worried after I read the book he wrote with his son Owen King, Sleeping Beauties, but he is back to his true form with The Outsider. In fact he may even be better if that’s possible.
One word of warning, though, if you haven’t read the Mr. Mercedes trilogy you should do so before starting The Outsider. All of which are very good, very easy to read.
I dare you to not believe in the magic and power of a great story after you’ve read them.