"Like measles, mumps, or rubella, tragedy was contagious. Unlike those diseases, there was no vaccine."
Most of Stephen King’s novels contain terrifying
transgressions that defy logic and suggests supernatural influence. The
Outsider (published 22 May 2018) is no different. It starts with an unsettling
crime and the ensuing grounded investigation points out to a human perpetrator.
But the meticulous interrogation of eye-witnesses and realization of forensic
evidence is derailed by one simple fact: the alleged killer has a very strong
alibi. If it is the novel of Japanese crime writer Keigo Higashino, the truth
would lie within the bounds of earth and would be eventually uncovered by
thorough deduction. But this being a King’s story, the truth lays beyond the
realm of reality or mundanity, where shadowy shape-shifting things prowl and
feed upon people’s fear and sorrow.
The Outsider initially doesn’t seem like a ‘monster horror’
fiction like his undeniably best work IT. In fact, the story-telling technique
feels like a continuation of ‘Bill Hodges’ Trilogy – Mr. Mercedes, Finders
Keepers, and End of Watch – which gave King his Edgar Award (by Mystery Writers
of America). The Bill Hodges trilogy is largely crime/police procedural fiction
with tinges of Gothic horror and occult forces. Similarly, The Outsider is
also a blend of fantastical things – the product of King’s capricious imagination of
his hey days – and crime fiction. More surprising is how a prominent character
from ‘Bill Hodges’ world enters into this novel, making Outsider partly a
sequel to that franchise. I felt that King doesn’t do a perfect job in balancing the
different genres and the descent into supernatural territory isn’t definitely
the author's scariest. Yet this is a compelling page-turner with a good share of
unnerving moments which gently coerces us to finish the 550 plus pages in few
sittings.
The novel is set in fictional midsize town of Flint City,
Oklahoma State. A 11-year old boy Frank
Peterson is found in a local park, brutally murdered and sexually defiled.
However, it’s not a whodunit mystery, since eyewitnesses, fingerprints, and DNA
evidence undoubtedly implicates the town’s high-school teacher and beloved Little
League coach Terry Maitland. Detective Ralph Anderson, whose own teenage son
was coached by Maitland, was enraged by the developments. Driven by an agenda
to perfectly humiliate the alleged perpetrator, Anderson arrests Maitland during a
baseball game, in front of Maitland’s wife, two daughters (10 & 12 yrs old),
and 1,500 town residents. The news spread like a forest fire and thanks to media
circus a frenzy of speculation is set off. Meanwhile, Terry Maitland himself is
enraged by Anderson’s public show and claims innocence. To the detective’s
dismay, Terry’s alibi is rock-solid. He was out of town with colleagues at the
exact time the crime occurred (there’s even a YouTube video showing Terry at a
conference). While Anderson and determined District Attorney William Samuels
wrack their brains to figure out how one person could be in two places at the
same time, the crime and arrest wrecks the town’s harmony. With more twists and
turns in the investigation, it becomes clear that the solution lies outside the
perception of reality.
Stephen King’s antagonist might be an otherworldly
Pennywise-like child-eater, but the atmosphere and characters’ mood are
undeniably grounded in today’s fears. “People are blind to explanations that
lie outside their perception of reality”, writes King, which not only alludes
to the story’s preternatural things, but also hints at Trump’s America that’s
possibly spinning out of control. King quotes Sherlock Holmes’ famous opinion:
“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how
improbable, must be the truth”. The trouble of not seeing the truth plus the
mention of a moral rot at the roots of societal structure once again kind of
gleams with a sociopolitical message. King also takes his characters to
dilapidated locations painted with a swastika or adorned with placards like
“TRUMP MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.” The boogeyman, feeding upon sorrow and fear,
could very well be the metaphorical monster for the turbulent times. However,
these overt references mostly offer an interesting shade or a shiny exterior
rather than being profound. In fact, once King delves into the hunt for
literally unspeakable evil, the philosophical and sociopolitical or
socioeconomic meditations are promptly expelled.
Of course, we don’t read King, seeking subtlety or strong social
messages. We read him for those brilliantly conceived set pieces, where we pray
for the well-drawn characters’ survival against the pure evil. King doesn’t
disappoint us on that aspect as he swiftly plumbs into the gloomy depths without
ever forgetting to imbue human sensitivity. Despite few letdowns and rough
edges, King’s incessant references to pop-culture and literature provide lot of
memorable moments. King’s wealth of references range from Poe’s short-story
William Wilson, Agathe Christie, Conan Doyle, Shakespeare, Game of Thrones,
Mexico’s Luchador movies, and even Stanley Kubrick (socially awkward Holly
Gibney champions Paths of Glory, remarking that it is ‘better than the Shining’
and further adding, “but of course he [Kubrick] was much younger when he made
it [Paths of Glory]. Young artists are much more likely to be risk-takers, in
my opinion”). Part of the charm in reading King’s books rests in gorging upon
these cultural references and so on. Overall, The Outsider doesn’t enchantingly reconstruct
the prolific author’s formulas and tropes, but there’s enough intriguing
elements in it to devour the book in one go.
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