Hair Did Not Rise on My Neck

Joyland by Stephen King

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


I grew up in Coastal North Carolina at Wilmington. My stepfather was eternally delighted with the circus, the state fair, the coastal amusement parks, and the boardwalks. I never missed a circus and there were plenty of them in the late 40's/early 50's. There were loads of mysteries and lots to gossip associated with them, too, if and when one became chummy with any of the traveling or the stationery workers. They were like a band of gypsies - or bull riders. They traveled the seaboard and their stories went with them.

I enjoyed Joyland for many reasons. Nice little story, plenty of amusement park lingo, clean cut college kids, dying little boys, murdered girls, ghosts, and carnie folks.

Not up to par for Stephen King, however. Not once did the hair rise on my neck. There is no joy in spirits that every character believes in. Where is the fear? "The Gift" becomes a regular personality trait when everyone knows who has it and who doesn't. Where is the doubt? The surprise?

Thank You, Time Magazine. We need more like Carrie.

It turned out just as it was outlined. I guessed the killer early on. There wasn't any true Kingesque evil. The villain wasn't nearly psychopathic enough. The hero was simply a nice kid. The tension just wasn't there. I'm giving it three stars because it is Stephen King and he may have written this for the younger reader. Like Carl Hiaasen does sometimes.





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