The Gunslinger by Stephen King
In the first book of this brilliant series, Stephen King introduces readers to one of his most enigmatic heroes, Roland of Gilead, The Last Gunslinger. He is a haunting figure, a loner on a spellbinding journey into good and evil. In his desolate world, which frighteningly mirrors our own, Roland pursues The Man in Black, encounters an alluring woman named Alice, and begins a friendship with the Kid from Earth called Jake.
What a struggle.
Too vague in places, too patronising in others, I am at a loss to understand the manic hysteria over this book. King’s writing is as dry as his desert setting; nothing is given to incentivise reading on, engagement is brittle, and his characters woeful - each woman a fuckable object, each man an enemy. Please.
I am gobsmacked at how poor this was. People were messaging me to talk about it, so excited to see I was reading it for the first time. There was nothing here to hold on to, it was awful.
A few people have told me they slogged their way through this one only to be rewarded with a wonderful tale in further instalments. Not fucking happening; I’ve had enough of cigarette rolling, pontificating, shoot-em-up cowboys.
The gunslinger, indeed.