by Steven Smith.
“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”
So opens the tale of The Dark Tower. A seven book saga allowing us to participate in the desperate quest of Roland of Gilead, the last Gunslinger, to reach the prize of reality, the corner stone of existence, the Dark Tower. Encompassing the past, present and future of worlds that do, may and don’t exist, The Dark Tower will take you places unexpected, certainly never experienced and some worthy of avoidance. Yet you will be powerless to stop it. Ka (destiny or fate) demands it, say thankya.
This is not your usual Stephen King novel. In fact, it would be better to forget that it is a Stephen King book for as long as you can. This does become impossible at some point but not because the story or writing style changes, only that, no I won’t spoil it. Suffice to say you get a bit more of Stephen King than you bargained for, although I personally found this quite intriguing, even illuminating.
For me, the beauty of an epic tale is in the depth of the worlds created. Including people and places, social ideas and religions, right down to the animals, bugs and fauna. Mostly, though, it is the space available for character development. That is where The Dark Tower excels. Being loosely staged as a Western, the landscapes are often, but not exclusively, scant, and it is through the actions of the characters within it that we get to know who and what they are. This will sometimes be to the good, sometimes to the bad, mostly to the ugly.
To bring a character such as Roland of Gilead to life is no refreshing walk on the beach. As a reader, you will be hit, like only a hard caliber can, with the kind of man it takes to reach the Dark Tower. No comic relief from this one. No mercy where you might expect at least some. If an actor were cast for the role, Clint Eastwood, in his best day, would look too soft. Yet, you will love him. More importantly, you will follow him.
At times I questioned where King was going, what he was doing, what he was telling. I ask humble forgiveness (Sai King, say thankya). When I thought I knew, I really didn’t. Hints that sounded too loud were only there to throw me off scent. I hope my own stories can inspire this kind of ‘battle of wits’ for I was always pleased to be trumped, if not always pleased with what happened. This may very well be the reason I read in the first place.
From start to finish, I felt part of Roland’s world, a silent member of his ka-tet. It is why I will read The Dark Tower again, someday. Before I reach the clearing at the end of the path. Before the world moves on.
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