Six quirky but doughty youngsters confront the way of a immense and terrible otherworldly malevolence that has invaded our existence from the farthest reaches of shadow. They must devote their lives confronting it, experiencing horror after horror in the process.
This outlines the narrative, in essence, of Stephen King’s novel It (arguably his finest; no arguments). It is also the plot of King’s son Joseph Hillstrom King’s latest massive horror novel, in which a close-knit group invoke the age-old, deeply sinister serpent the Sorrowful Monarch from the Abyssal Void to assist them in vanquishing some antagonists. As one might expect, their arcane ceremony goes awry.
Joseph Hillström King began his writing journey making great efforts to avoid any connection from his well-known dad, publishing under the pen name he still uses today and eschewing in-person meetings with his agent (he exhibits a striking resemblance to his parent). But in this latest novel, he embraces it. There are lines that deliberately echo some of King’s most famous (“The man in black fled across the desert …”); a scene that evokes a signature King element (a riddling contest). Throughout this massive book, Hill is delighting in his family connection, and the audience revels alongside.
Focusing on the companions: five of them are pupils at the fictional this academic setting in the New England state. We have Arthur, bookish and brilliant, deciphering Old English riddles in his leisure hours; another key figure, affluent, sharp, and prone to trampling those who oppose him; the twin siblings; the beautiful Allie herself. And there’s Gwen, who isn’t their classmate, but assumes a vital role of their band as they experiment, somewhat credulous, partly skeptical, in supernatural practices.
Arthur is, for reasons we don’t need to go into, compelled to pilfer valuable volumes from his beloved college library by a group of neighborhood thugs. This tears at his bookish heart, particularly as he’s forced to acquire the collection’s foremost and chilling work: the diary of occultist Enoch Crane (executed “for dealing with infernal entities in 1703”; the binding is crafted from his flesh). Our Scooby gang peruse the diary, realize they are able to call forth what the occultist details as a “proud worm to aid our hero with his extortion dilemma – and spend the rest of the novel facing the fallout. This ancient entity will indeed rid them of those problematic neighborhood criminals, but they are required to pick a new sacrifice each year or become his victim themselves. As our protagonist states: “You plant seeds of destruction, all you get is additional horrors.”
Spanning forty years, Hill also moves with natural fluency between genres: as the friends endeavor to address the predicament they find themselves in by, variously, picking people who are obviously evil to sacrifice, or seeking means to kill the dragon themselves, we go from thriller to grim fantasy, covert operations to affectionate subplot to terror. One particularly memorable shift was to a adventure narrative, far beneath the surface beneath this UK region, a segment sprinkled with the Lord of the Rings author that was gloriously terrifying.
There are trolls – the classic variety and digital trolls, properly scary and expertly realized. There are magical swords and betrayals, breath-taking moments of bravery and instances of terrible wickedness, both earthly and extraterrestrial. It stands as a masterpiece: a frightening tale that is above all a tribute to the imagination, and to love and friendship. “We required a narrative to trust and {now we’ve got one|presently we possess it|currently we hold it,” says the wealthy student as the companions sit around the table, making preparations to call forth their beast to life with the strength of their collective will.
As Hill puts it in his epigraph: “This is dragon territory”. Don’t miss them.
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