Book Review: "On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft" by Stephen King

Mr. Stephen King may be a very nice man; he certainly loves his wife and his children, and as far as I can tell, is serious about what he calls "the craft" of writing. But he is not a very good writer. And it is strange to read a book by such a successful author, trying to explain the secret of his success, unfortunately, unsuccessfully.

Here I have to stipulate that I have never read any of Mr. King's books. I have seen a few of the films that were based on his early books: "Carrie," of course, and "The Shining." But since I am not reviewing any of his fiction, my criticism has to come from reading this non-fiction "how to" manual.

The book is roughly divided into three parts: the first section gives his c.v. (curriculum vitae) and life story. His account of his early childhood years, which may well have shaped his writing career, seems unnecessary in the context of the book. For one thing, there are an awful lot of holes in his autobiography, which is understandable if he had subconsciously tried to forget unhappy times, as he implies. But save for an incident with an ear infection, which is briefly referenced in the third section of the book, there's no compelling reason to read the biographical section at all.

Then we come to the largest portion of the book, the toolbox for author-wannabees like me. Mr. King advises on style and the structure of writing, but his advice isn't any different from my high school English teacher's bete noire, the over-use of the damnable passive voice. As for the small samples of his fiction included in the book (and I have to admit I could not always determine which were the "before" and which were the extreme makeover "after" passages), I didn't find his writing very impressive, just rather pedestrian, distinguished by his insistence that story drives the book. That would be fine if he wrote with flair, humor, or a compelling point of view; but the language he employs is not unique, nor especially riveting. His style of editing out so-called "unnecessary words" strips the book of any literary or intellectual interest. I'll stick with the style of Charles Dickens, thank you, and pretend to be paid by the word, because I like using gazillions of words.

Beyond the nuts and bolts of putting words on a page, King offers some advice on the physical structure of your writing room, (which may have worked for him, although I don't think I would be very comfortable in a corner of the closet in my laundry room, lit by a single 40 watt incandescent bulb with a hungry grey mouse my only companion. OK, not literally, but you get my point). He mumbles something about where your desk should be placed, whether the door to your room should be open or shut, and how many pages (or words on a page) you should write a day. I think if I took his advice seriously, I would be so filled with self-doubt that I would have dissolved into a lump of melting Jello slithering gooilly over my laptop, afraid to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard).

The third section of the book is the most moving, because it is not about hard-boiled science-fiction monster-horror novels; it is, in fact, an account of the horrifying 1999 car accident that interrupted the writing of this book, and nearly ended Mr. King's life. I recall reading others' accounts about how bad that accident was, but King's description of it, written with gallows humor, was harrowing and almost painful to read. But it was superbly crafted, and if Mr. King had written the rest of the book that well, I would have read it straight through.

February 17, 2008

This article was originally published on www.Amazon.com.