Witness Stephen King's
triumphant, blood-spattered return to the genre that made
him famous. Cell, the king of horror's homage to zombie
films (the book is dedicated in part to George A. Romero) is
his goriest, most horrific novel in years, not to mention
the most intensely paced. Casting aside his love of
elaborate character and town histories and penchant for
delayed gratification, King yanks readers off their feet
within the first few pages; dragging them into the fray and
offering no chance catch their breath until the very last
page.
In Cell King taps into readers fears of technological
warfare and terrorism. Mobile phones deliver the apocalypse
to millions of unsuspecting humans by wiping their brains of
any humanity, leaving only aggressive and destructive
impulses behind. Those without cell phones, like illustrator
Clayton Riddell and his small band of "normies," must fight
for survival, and their journey to find Clayton's estranged
wife and young son rockets the book toward resolution.
Fans that have followed King from the beginning will
recognize and appreciate Cell as a departure--King's writing
has not been so pure of heart and free of hang-ups in years
(wrapping up his phenomenal Dark Tower series and receiving
a medal from the National Book Foundation doesn't hurt
either). "Retirement" clearly suits King, and lucky for us,
having nothing left to prove frees him up to write frenzied,
juiced-up horror-thrillers like Cell. Stay tuned for more
from the hardest-working retiree in the business with
Lisey's Story, coming in October 2006.
What if a pulse sent
out through cell phones turned every person using one of
them into a zombie-like killing machine? That's what happens
on page six of King's latest, a glib, technophobic but
compelling look at the end of civilization—or at what may
turn into a new, extreme, telepathically enforced fascism.
Those who are not on a call at the time of the pulse (and
who don't reach for their phones to find out what is going
on) remain "normies." One such is Clayton Riddell, an
illustrator from Kent Pond, Maine, who has just sold some
work in Boston when the pulse hits. Clay's single-minded
attempt to get back to Maine, where his estranged wife,
Sharon, and young son, Johnny-Gee, may or may not have been
turned into "phoners" (as those who have had their brains
wiped by the pulse come to be called) comprises the rest of
the plot. King's imagining of what is more or less
post-Armageddon Boston is rich, and the sociological asides
made by his characters along the way—Clay travels at first
with two other refugees—are jaunty and witty. The novel's
three long set pieces are all pretty gory, but not
gratuitously so, and the book holds together in signature
King style. Fans will be satisfied and will look forward to
the next King release, Lisey's Story, slated for October.
(Jan. 24)
