The FedEx man dropped it outside my front door and rang the bell on Monday. If I’d known what it was–it arrived a day early–I would have dragged myself out of my sickbed and crawled to the door and somehow managed to reach the knob, crack open the door a bit, and drag my treasure inside. As it was, kind Husband was around and retrieved it for me. He even went so far as to open the box and place it in my greedy, little hands.
I’m sure you can surmise by the accompanying photo it was a copy of Stephen King’s new release, Finders Keepers. Hot off the press. The ink barely dry. I had preordered it from Amazon months ago and had forgotten about it.
I couldn’t read much that day; I felt like death warmed over, and mostly slept. But the next day, I was somewhat better, and dug in.
As I expected, it hooked me right from the beginning. It starts out running and doesn’t slow down, taking the reader back and forth between two points of view and two points in time, until ultimately, they converge.
Then enters the main character from Mr. Mercedes, (Mr. King’s previous novel) retired cop, Bill Hodges. I don’t know yet what part he plays in the plot of Finders Keepers; I haven’t gotten that far yet. All I know is that Hodges and the protagonist of Finders Keepers, young Pete Sabers, were both affected by the horrific slaughter and maiming of a large group of people who were lined up in the wee hours of the morning, in hopes of getting a job, when The Mercedes plowed into the lot of them.
I have been one of Mr. King’s “Constant Readers”–what he calls his millions of fans–since I cracked open a paperback copy of Carrie in 1975. (I didn’t have the money back then to buy hardback books, making do with used paperbacks instead.) I have read every book he has written–even the ones penned under the pseudonym, Richard Bachman. Some have been better than others, but every single one I’ve considered time well spent between the pages of a book. He has a keen sense of character, fleshing them out and making them so believable that they step out of the pages and into your life.
Most literary critics snub their collective noses at Stephen King’s body of work because he writes mostly in the horror genre. But a good story is a good story, no matter its classification. And I believe Mr. King will go down as one of America’s greatest writers. Of course, this is just little old me talking, and I have no college credentials whatsoever, so what does my opinion matter?
Well, it’s getting late, and my bed is calling out my name. And so is Finders Keepers, which rests on my nightstand. Nothing beats curling up in bed with a good book. There was a time when that wasn’t always the case but…well…never mind.
Oh—almost forgot to mention the story revolves around the contents of a chest. I won’t tell you what’s in it and spoil the surprise. Read the book. You won’t be disappointed.