Finished 'salem's Lot. I'll write my full review relatively soon, but for now, I would like to comment on the last part, "Part Three: The Deserted Village."
Very much enjoyed this story. Along the way, I've asked a few questions about how all this works. I think the story itself is very imaginative and clever in many ways, but I'm curious as to if the "physics" of the universe he's set up works.
Granted, I'll try to view every story within its own context and allow for narrative license, but if X happens and logically, we would expect Y to normally happen, then it should at least be addressed in some manner.
One of the questions that was answered concerned the level of free will and awareness each individual vampire seemed to have. It seems that they didn't really have any awareness truly on their own, if Barlow had a task for them, but once Barlow was out of the picture, they began to have some rudimentary problem solving skills and echoes of their previous life's memories, which was cool.
There are two plot-y things that weren't really answered to my liking and really seem like Big Plot Problems. The first, which I raised in a previous post, is "Why do Straker and Barlow bother to announce themselves to the whole world by opening up a furniture shop?" It seems to complicate things for them and indeed make their task harder. And lets presume that a cover of furniture shop owners is required to give them a reason for moving to the Lot (I had suggested a simple "I'm old and retiring out here" might have been a better, more low key alternative), why name the furniture store with their own names? There are several points in the story where the narrative is presented in the form of news clippings and at least two of them mentioned the abandoned storefront of Barlow and Straker's Furniture Shop. It doesn't appear that anyone had put two and two together yet, but lets assume Barlow and Straker had succeeded, as Barlow had presumably done dozens (or more) times prior...why leave such a bread crumb? Simple hubris? Seems a bit weak.
The second plot-y thing that bothered me is the pretty significant is the matter of Church artifacts and their affect on vampires. In this world, crucifixes, holy water, communion wafers all seem to work. We are never told why but the main characters didn't know either, other than "folk lore". Okay, I'll buy that. Crucifixes and holy water seem to work in most version of vampire lore that I'm familiar with.
Until King changes the rules midstream...during Father Calahan's final confrontation with Barlow. Up until that point, all symbols of the Church worked without fail, and we presume garlic and roses do as well. Particularly the roses, since Straker went so far as to buy up all the supplies of roses from the local florists. (Side note, I find it hard to believe, in a rural/agrarian community such as 'salem's Lot that there's not a single person in the whole town that doesn't have rose bushes, but I digress) We don't know why any of these things work (other than a wild guess by the doctor Jimmy that they might cause severe allergic reactions in vampires due to some unknown mechanism), they just do. Okay. Fine.
Then, at the most dramatic time possible, naturally, Father Callahan's crucifix, which at that time had been emanating a haunting luminescence, ceased being a supernatural vampire repellent, and simply became what it had always been: an insignificant plaster crucifix and nothing more. The reason, we are told, is that Barlow tricked Callahan. See, at the time, Barlow was holding Mark hostage. They negotiated Mark's release under the condition that Callahan drop his crucifix.
Except he didn't. Shortly after that, the crucifix stopped working. According to Barlow, Callahan's refusal to release the crucifix displayed that he believed in the symbol, not the power behind the symbol. In other words, the crucifix was akin to a golden calf/idol and this was evidence that Callahan had actually lost faith in God.
So...suddenly, out of the blue we're told that all of the items that have been working against the vampires work not because of the items but because of the wielder's belief in some higher power (we presume God, but it isn't specified).
I'm not suddenly changing rules mid-game once they have been firmly established, but it can work, sometimes really really well, if you justify them and allow the reader no other choice but to realize "Oh, of COURSE it works that way." But one pet peeve that really gets me is when this sudden game changing revelation actually causes narrative problems and plot holes that would not otherwise existed.
Case in point: Matt Burke is a noted agnostic. He admitted as such that he didn't believe in anything that couldn't be reasoned through science. Yet, he was able to successfully able to repel Mike Ryerson from his guest bedroom by the use of a...wait for it...crucifix. So why is the crucifix able to work for Matt, who doesn't believe, but suddenly fails Father Callahan? Is it because Barlow somehow tricked him? If so, that's even cheaper and almost reeks of Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "What is the capital of Assyria?"
Okay, soapbox over.
Despite my rant, these things didn't ruin the novel for me. If the choice King had while writing was to either tell a great story and fudge the rules, or have the rules compromise the story, the good writer chooses story every time. However, a writer breaking the rules, especially once the same writer has already established them or chosen to abide by them, is definitely a quick way to annoy me as a reader.
I actually liked the book. A lot. I'ts a take on vampires that is, ironically, quite refreshing despite the fact that the novel is nearly 39 years old. But I'll touch more on that in my official recap/review, which I should have up in a couple of days.
Not discounting the point of unaddressed plot elements (and to be fair, I barely remember reading this book), but I think even back then, King had a sense of the larger world his characters were playing in. *Especially* give their names, I think the furniture shop - and its sign - served as a signpost for other, evil wanderers who may be taking the back roads (our dimension) to get where they're going; kind of like the old hobo signals. But, again, your point stands: if that's what it's about, mention it, imply it, or be damned sure it gets noted in a later book.
ReplyDeleteInteresting point. I haven't read enough of his later work...yet...to know exactly what you're referring to with "this dimension", but I'll file it away and see if I can connect it to the larger narrative in the future.
DeleteCool point about hobo signals though.