Holly by Stephen King: A review

Stephen King is a very good writer but his preferred genre, horror, is something I tend to steer clear of in my reading. There seems to be more than enough horror in the real world, so why inflict it on myself in my reading life. I think the only book of his that I'd ever actually read was Billy Summers which was notable for its lack of horror. But I kept reading so many intriguing reviews and comments about his new book that I decided to give it a go. And I found plenty of horror but still...

The book features a character who has appeared in the background in other King novels, Holly Gibney. In this one, she is front and center as the title of the book would indicate.

Holly is a partner in a detective agency called Finders Keepers. Her life is a bit complicated at the moment by the facts that her mother has just died and her partner, Pete, is currently suffering from Covid. So Finders Keepers is a bit strapped for working detectives at the moment, but when the agency receives a call from Penny Dahl, a desperate mother who has been unable to contact her daughter, Bonnie, something in the woman's voice makes it impossible for Holly to turn her down.

Her search for Bonnie brings her in contact with a pair of professors at the local college. Professors Rodney and Emily Harris are octogenarians and are semi-retired. They appear to be the most benign and harmless academics, but appearances can be deceiving. And they were never more deceptive than in this case. Rodney and Emily are (not to put too fine a point on it) cannibals. Their basement harbors a cage where they keep their "livestock" before slaughtering and eating them.

Holly is off her guard in the presence of the professors, not considering them any kind of threat. That is her big mistake and is how she ends up in that cage in the basement. (Spoiler alert!) She is not slaughtered and eaten and lives to inhabit what I understand will be a series of Stephen King books in which she will evidently be the main character.

And she is a great character. She is resourceful and quick-witted and utterly devoted to her profession. I look forward to reading her further adventures, so, quick, Mr. King, get busy on that next book!

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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