Under the Dome by Stephen King
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I had problems with it, as I do with some of Stephen King’s work, especially his earlier novels. The treatment of women (wait for it there is bound to be a violent rape scene), the rabid fixation with bodily fluids and functions (sex, peeing, pooping, take your pick), a caricature as villain, the tendency to explain everything, as though the author is afraid the reader will not get it, so let me say it again, and slowly, this time. King is a blessing to casual readers, those who want a gripping story and a plot that doesn’t require the search for nuance. That’s not a criticism, sometimes you just want a read that’s entertaining and easy. My love for his work depends largely on my mood and needs. Do I want a plot-driven read, or do I want a delicate book that will give me insight into human nature? Sometimes you find both in one King book, like The Green Mile. Under the Dome was intriguing enough to make me finish 900 pages pretty quickly, but the way to the end wasn’t always satisfying. Some scenes do not ring true, because they are so over-the-top. There’s one particular moment that made me cringe:
“The little girl was still there, though.” Julia touched her chest. “Still here, too. She lives.”
STILL, it was a great premise, and the novel’s end had a poetry to it that made me happy.