Book Review - 11.22.63 by Stephen King

If you'd told me there was a new book out in which a teacher has to travel back in time to try and stop the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on the 22nd of November 1963, I would have bought it regardless of the author. From Back To The Future to Mad Men, I've long had a great affection for late 50s / early 60s Americana, and I've also always been fascinated by the way the Kennedy assassination has been absorbed into pop culture, from Oliver Stone's epic, star-studded and wildly paranoid JFK to one of my favourite Manic Street Preachers songs, I'm Just A Patsy. And it goes without saying that I'm a sucker for time travel stories too. So, like I say, I'd have bought this book whoever wrote it. But Stephen King? My favourite author in the whole world ever, ever? Could it get any better?

Well, yes, it could. Because not only is this Stephen King, but it's also the best Stephen King I've read in 20+ years. I've been more positive about King's recent works than many of his longtime fans, but I've still been aware of its flaws: self-indulgent rambling and anti-climatic conclusions being his greatest crimes of late. But at no point during 11.22.63 did I feel that King was dragging his feet: indeed, for a novel that's 734 pages long I could happily have read another 734. Unlike many novels, I wasn't racing to get to the end so I could move on to the next book on my stack, I was pacing myself, slowing down my reading, trying to relish every page, not wanting it to end. That said, I was glad when it did - and, more importantly, how it did. This was perhaps the most satisfying climax King has ever written, and it was interesting to see him tip his hat in that regard towards his son, Joe Hill, who "thought up a new and better ending".

The most impressive thing about 11.22.63 is the plot. Time travel stories are notoriously tricky to navigate, especially ones which involve changing history. Add to that the conspiracy legends that surround JFK and Lee Harvey Oswald and there were a plethora of predictable twists that could have sunk this story. That said, there are also certain time travel tropes which are essential, and to ignore them would have led to a hugely unsatisfying read. King's answer to this dilemma is two-fold: firstly to cleverly hoodwink readers who were expecting a shlocky conspiracy thriller into enjoying a far more satisfying romantic drama. To the point that once the Oswald chase finally takes centre stage, we're screaming at the author to take us back to the comforting diversions of young high school teachers in love. Secondly, there's King's ingenious solution to the book's true protagonist and antagonist. Despite what you might expect, this is not one man from the future versus history's most infamous assassin. Instead, it's one man from the future versus time itself. Time is the bad guy in 11.22.63, because time does not want to be changed. And time will do anything to stop history being meddled with. 'How does one man defeat time itself?' is the novel's central question, yet we're ever aware that a second question lurks in the background: 'What are the consequences if he does?'

The best thing I can say about 11.22.63 is that it's taken top place on my list of Stephen King novels I'd recommend to people who don't read Stephen King novels. If it's true that King has spent his entire career trying to shed the clumsy genre labelling and write that elusive "Great American Novel", then I'll be damned if he hasn't finally done it. Whether or not the sniffy critics will be able to get past the fact that this is a story in which an English teacher travels back half a century through a food pantry in a roadside diner... well, screw 'em if they don't have the imagination.

Rabbit, Run

I had no idea when reading John Updike's Rabbit Run that it was the first in a series of novels chronicling the life of Harry 'Rabbit' Angstrom. I do hope his life gets a little more cheerful in subsequent books.

The novel commences when Rabbit, feeling trapped in his failing marriage to an alcoholic wife, gets in his car and drives... and carries on driving, all through the night, trying to get as far away from it all as he possibly can. I reckon we've all felt like doing that at one point or other in our life, making this opening section the most effective part of the book - indeed, I'd have much preferred it if Rabbit just kept on driving... but that's not the story Updike wanted to tell.

Instead, Rabbit bottles it and returns to his home city - if not his actual home, taking up with Ruth, a young woman who takes money for sex in the same way Holly Golightly may have done. They say every generation believes they're the ones who invented sex, so Updike's graphic description of Rabbit and Ruth's relationship may prove quite eye-opening... and must surely have been considered shocking in its day.

Eventually a young minister called Jack Eccles attempts to get Rabbit and his now-pregnant wife back together, but tragedy... on an epic Greek scale... is destined to follow.

Updike's writing reminds me of Arthur Miller, and not just because it's set in a similar era. Harry Angstrom is a tragically flawed character, and when you hear him explain just why he ran, it's hard not to think of Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman...

"I once did something right. I played first-rate baseball. I really did. And after you're first-rate at something, no matter what, it kind of takes the kick out of being second-rate. And that little thing Janice and I had going, it was really second-rate."

The latter half of Harry's story proved a little heavy going, but I did enjoy the opening section which grants us a fascinating window-on-the-world road trip through 50s America, and goes to show those critics who complain "topical references only date a novel" just how evocative such detail can be. My favourite passage from the novel could easily have been written by Bret Easton Ellis's grandad...


It takes him a half hour to pick his way through Lancaster. On 222 he drives through Refton, Hessdale, New Providence and Quarryville, through Mechanics Grove and Unicorn and then a long stretch so dull and unmarked he doesn't know he's entered Maryland until he hits Oakwood. On the radio he hears "No Other Arms, No Other Lips," "Stagger Lee," a commercial for Rayco Clear Plastic Seat Covers, "If I Didn't Care" by Connie Francis, a commercial for Radio-Controlled Garage Door Operators, "I Ran All The Way Home Just To Say I'm Sorry," "That Old Feeling" by Mel Torme, a commercial for a Big Screen Westinghouse TV Set with One-Finger Automatic Tuning, "needle-sharp pictures a nose away from the screen," "The Italian Cowboy Song," "Yep" by Duane Eddy, a commercial for Papermate Pens, "Almost Grown," a commercial for Tame Cream Rinse, "Let's Stroll," news (President Eisenhower and Prime Minister Harold Macmillan begin a series of talks in Gettysburgh, Tibetans battle Chinese Communists in Lhasa, the whereabouts of the Dalai Lama, spiritual ruler of this remote and backward land, are unknown, a $250,000 trust fund has been left to a Park Avenue maid, Spring scheduled to arrive tomorrow), sports news (Yanks over Braves in Miami, somebody tied with somebody in St. Petersburg Open, scores in a local basketball tournament), weather (fair and seasonably warm), "The Happy Organ," "Turn Me Loose," a commercial for Schuylkill Life Insurance, "Rocksville, P-A," (Rabbit loves it), "A Picture No Artist Could Paint," a commercial for New Formula Barbasol Presto-Lather, whose daily cleansing action tends to prevent skin blemishes and emulsifies something, "Pink Shoe Laces" by Dody Stevens, a word about a little boy called Billy Tessman who was hit by a car and would appreciate cards or letters, "Petit Fleur," "Fungo," (great), a commercial for Wool-Tex All-Wool Suits, "Fall Out" by Henry Mancini, "Everybody Likes To Do The Cha Cha Cha," a commercial for Lord's Grace Table Napkins and the gorgeous Last Supper Tablecloth, "The Beat Of My Heart," a commercial for Speed-Shine Wax and Lanolin Clay, "Venus," and then the same news again. Where is the Dalai Lama?

Top Ten Songs About The 50s

Because I want to do a Top Ten Songs About The 80s in a few weeks time, and because I'm a saddo list-compiler completist, I first had to go back further, to the dawn of rock 'n' roll. Just be glad I couldn't find enough songs about the 30s or 40s... or the 1800s.

To be clear - this isn't my favourite songs FROM the fifties... all these tracks were released much later. It's just a list of tracks that recall that mythical decade in one way or another...

10. Ronnie Milsap - Lost In The 50s Tonight

It's crass music journo shorthand to call Ronnie Milsap the "country Stevie Wonder" just because he's blind... so I won't.

This song was recorded in 1985... yet it could easily have come from thirty years earlier.

9. Patti Smith - 1959

I like Patti Smith. Horses? Great album. That one with Because The Night on? Even better. Let's face it, there are those who believe Morrissey and Marr named their band after her... so really, who am I to be critical?

However...

This song does contain the following lyric...

Wisdom was a teapot
Pouring from above.

???

8. The Police - Born In The 50s

OK, Sting, here's the problem. You call your song Born In The 50s, yet all your lyrics refer to events that took place in the 60s.

My mother cried
When president Kennedy died
She said it was the communists
But I knew better

Also, it seems Sting knew exactly who shot JFK... even when he was a little kid. Pity the Warren Commission didn't just ask li'l Gordon. And what's more...

They screamed
When the Beatles sang
And they laughed when the King fell down the stairs
Oh they should've known better
Oh we hated our Aunts
Then we messed in our pants

I swear I'm not making these lyrics up. I take back everything I said about Patti Smith's teapot.

7. Dion - Queen of '59

From the album Streetheart, which came bundled up on CD with its far superior (Phil Spector produced) predecessor, Born To Be With You, this is a nice little duet with Phil Everly, written about Dion's wife Susan. Damned if I can find it anywhere on the internet though.

6. Tom Waits - Ol' 55

Tom Waits takes his vintage automobile out for a spin. I have no idea what sort of car this would be, but I want to say Buick. Apparently the Eagles covered this track, but Tom wasn't too impressed, calling their version "antiseptic". But then, he hates the fucking Eagles, man.

5. The Gaslight Anthem - The '59 Sound

You ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night, not even for making a career out of impersonating the E Street Band.

4. Beach Boys - Disney Girls (1957)

A nostalgic ode from Beach Boy Bruce Johnson, released in the 70s when the 50s already felt like a golden age. I'm not sure how much of this is American Happy Days mythologising (certainly Britain in the 50s doesn't look half as appealing with hindsight) but you can hear in this song exactly why Marty McFly had to go back there.

3. Morrissey - Munich Air Disaster 1958

As if to prove my point about Britain, here's Morrissey with a song dedicated to the Manchester United team killed on their way home from Germany. In black and white, no doubt.

2. Billy Joel - We Didn't Start The Fire

Some may question this track's inclusion. To them I say: compile your own list. This infamous 80s list song begins in the year of Joel's birth, 1949, but spends more of its time in the 50s than it does in the 60s, 70s or 80s... as illustrated in this excessively detailed guide to every single lyric.

We Didn't Start The Fire was released at the height of my teenage Joel-mania, when I really should have been listening to the Smiths... but wasn't. I still love it, even the bit where he obviously can't think of a rhyme for "JFK blown away". He should have asked Sting.

1. Richard Thompson - 1952 Black Lightning

A wonderful story about Richard Thompson's favourite motorcycle, and the heartbreaking romance it inspires. Would also likely make Number One in my Top Ten Motorbike Songs... if I ever get round to that.

Said Red Molly to James that's a fine motorbike
A girl could feel special on any such like
Said James to Red Molly, well my hat's off to you
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952
And I've seen you at the corners and cafes it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme
And he pulled her on behind
And down to Box Hill they did ride

So... do you remember any songs about the 50s? Or are you all too young?