Horror writer Stephen King has dubbed his most dedicated readers his "constant readers" amidst commercial (and some) critical success. Stephen King began writing novels seriously in the mid to late 1970's - a time in the United States' history that saw a President who betrayed the trust of a nation alongside widespread disaffection with the gone-too-late Vietnam War. The wars have continued in different guises, and the corruption in politics is perhaps more widespread than it has ever been. The American people have tacitly recognized all of this, and either become politically involved (rare), or else become indifferent to the dances of politics, in which case they look for a new fix. The King is here to serve.
Stephen King in many ways is an exemplar of escapist literature - a species of writing that is entertaining to the core and unapologetically tosses any component of the craft that is not plot overboard. The Running Man was called pure plot. Interestingly, this plot was about a nation gone from bad to worse, in which squalor-bound citizens where instructed to hunt down their fellow man for monetary compensation as part of a hit game show. Does that sound like "America's Most Wanted" or "COPS" to you? It sure does to me.
Within both the long form of the novel and the short form of the short story, Stephen King is at home trenchantly creating plots that rivet the reader, allowing her respite from her daily troubles or routines, and subtly fastening a parallel between one set of disturbances and idiosyncrasies in the fictional world and those of the one we physically inhabit everyday. For example, Stephen King's 1978 post-apocalyptic work, The Stand, is not only considered one of his best by critics, and one of his most entertaining by "constant readers," but it seamlessly envisions a world that is corrupted by plague, greed, violence, and technology.
In Stephen King's world, violence and technology often go hand-in-hand. The Stand sees two factions of the remaining human race - good and evil essentially - battling in Las Vegas, a veritable seat of greed and technology gone mad. In a truly brilliant set of creative circumstances, Stephen King shows how good-hearted people can be corrupted by the wiles of technology, and how violence is often times the go-to solution that humans conjure up to solve their problems. The book culminates with a nuclear bomb explosion in Las Vegas - a.k.a., Sin City - that strangely ameliorates the problems of one set of people, and basically blows the other set of people (i.e., the bad folks) to smithereens.
In a similar vein, the 1987 horror novel by King, The Tommyknockers, takes some cues from H.P. Lovecraft's The Colours Out of Space. Both King's novel and Lovecraft's short story focus on what happens when a foreign agent - in King's case, technology, and in Lovecraft's, a meteorite - comes to inhabit earth and wreak devastation on its citizens. Within the ethos of The Tommyknockers, King's citizens - good people in the beginning - have their characters slowly eroded by the advanced technological culture of Altair 4 (the name of the alien faction) as it creeps into a sleepy, rural Maine town. King seems to suggest here that an over-reliance on technological "advancements" might perhaps lead to a period of intellectual apathy ("oh, I can just google that"), moral depravity, and disinterest in one's fellow man. For me, that comes pretty close to encapsulating what a zombie would look like - an automaton that takes his cue from the news and latest gadgets instead of the wisdom of his own heart.
The Stand and The Tommyknockers show the author at his most deft and metaphorically intense when dealing with technology in the long form of a novel, but King can also play it straightforward when dealing with the fantastical and escapist horror fiction. An archetypal example of this is his 1989 short story, “Home Delivery.” This is one that King himself might call "a screamer" perhaps - denoting a story that is just plain fun, without overarching analogical interpretations, flowery language, or conventional devices that make a story seem "literary.” “Home Delivery” is, indeed, a ton of fun to volitionally get yourself lost in, and squarely falls into the escapist domain of literary treats.
The tale is told mainly in hindsight from the perspective of Maddie, a timid, pregnant Maine woman who is forced to take a stand against zombie invaders from outer space, as her life and her baby's life are at stake. That's the story on the level of superficial plot; on another level, even when King is apparently not trying to critique culture, the story makes some far-flung references to international diplomacy falling to pieces in a crisis situation, technologically created holes in the ozone layer, and the limitations of man-made devices in relation to the supreme forces of nature. Conclusively, “Home Delivery” shows that even when King doesn't intentionally set his sights on skewering technology, and warning of its implications, those facets comes out in his writing somehow.
Whether the writing is intentionally metaphorical or not, whether it was written a few years ago or decades in the past, Stephen King's horror writing is doggedly concerned with keeping the reader entertained at all costs while subtly conveying some of his grievances to the reader. The above examples of King's horror writing are fundamentally grounded in the escapist tradition, as it fits the essential criterion: take the reader out of his normal routine and surroundings and into a different, preferably fantastical, landscape.
True, by that criterion one could also argue that romance novels, like those churned out yearly by Danielle Steel are also part and parcel of the escapist tradition. One could even argue that popular science fiction or espionage thrillers (a la John Le Carre) are equally entitled to be marketed as escapist. The reason romance, science fiction, and espionage novels fall well short of horror's top spot as escapist literature is because each, to one degree or another, is more firmly grounded in conventional, day-to-day reality.
Consider the science fiction novel which generally asks what might happen if a tiny tweak were to melt its way into the future, affecting our theoretical manner and style of viewing reality in the figurative tomorrow. Now consider Espionage novels written by John Le Carre or Shane Stevens, writters who stress only a minor tinkering to current international relations that, nonetheless, have profound (and thrilling!) consequences in the narrative's reality. Clearly, these two examples are not as profoundly escapist as the ilk of horror presented by Stephen King.
Unlike Crichton or Le Carre, King makes the point of severing most ties to reality, to transport the reader and entertain her. Sometimes King accomplishes this feat through zombies, sometimes through talismanic devices, and other times by distortions in the manic imaginations and primal fear of his characters. What makes King's writing truly brilliant though is the way he often interweaves this thrilling horror and escapism to current technological and moral problems that face people as they attempt to navigate an increasingly complex and interconnected world.
Emily Matthews is currently applying to masters degree programs across the U.S., and loves to read about new research into health care, gender issues, and literature. She lives and writes in Seattle, Washington. Vist her site at http://www.mastersdegree.net/blog/
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