A King-sized tale

PM: It has long been fashionable among the literati to gleefully bash the work of Stephen King. I am happy to say I have never been among them.

KW: King bashers or literati?

PM: The former. Actually, I think "literati" comes from the Latin "literatus," meaning, "To throw gum wrappers out the window while reading." I've always enjoyed King's books. I think he writes well and is a superb storyteller. "The Stand" kept me up for days.

KW: I agree. I think it can be difficult for an author who's so successful to be taken seriously by the critics. However, his latest effort, "Duma Key," falls well short of his usual high if creepy standards.

PM: Really? I rather liked it. What was your objection?

KW: Mostly that I didn't find it the least bit frightening. I was at page 182 and not scared yet, page 237 and not scared yet. Page 340 -- nope. Stephen King's usually a page-turner, but "Duma Key" for me is a page-skipper. Too slow, too detailed and not all that interesting -- in fact, my first feeling of horror was when I realized it's 611 pages long. Good grief! Does King think he's James Joyce? Thomas Pynchon?

PM: Matt Guerrier?

PM: The long reliever for the Twins.

KW: Very funny. I could have been savoring a book worth reading, such as a Patrick O'Brian installment, but I slogged along, hoping this one would get spooky. It didn't. By page 445 I was genuinely annoyed.

PM: I agree it could do with some editing. And even though it didn't have me hanging from the curtains in terror ...

KW: ... it had better not, those are new curtains ...

PM: ... I enjoyed the detail and the fact that he let the story unfold at a leisurely pace.

PM: Down, girl, down! The plot concerns a Minnesota contractor who suffers a terrible head injury in an accident. He moves to a private island in Florida -- Duma Key " ... a powerful place for ... certain kinds of people. It magnifies certain kinds of people." There he discovers a heretofore unrealized ability to paint, and this being a Stephen King novel, the canvases he creates are mystifyingly dark, frightening and, of course, prophetic. He encounters any number of creepy and non-creepy people and non-people on the way to what I found to be an exciting and vivid denouement, as well as an interesting examination of the power of art and the imagination.

KW: King's style is usually intelligent, well constructed and taut. This time it's just ho-hum. He tries to combine too many elements: mysterious characters, the sea, Florida history, the art world, the supernatural, missing limbs that still tingle, an overly complex plot. ... It all left me wishing that any one of several monsters would just up and eat everybody and be done with it. And how much of this fascination with recovery from physical trauma is King working out his own near-fatal injury a few years back?

PM: Oh, I'm sure that's part of it; how could it not be? He borrows a bit from his previous work in this novel -- most notably from "The Shining," "The Shawshank Redemption" and "Lisey's Story" -- and I think he's trying to find his way back to where and what he once was. Most novelists write because they have to, not because they like to. One of the chapters in this book begins, "Start with what you know, then re-invent it. Art is magic, no argument there, but all art, no matter how strange, starts in the humble everyday. Just don't be surprised when weird flowers sprout from common soil." Sounds pretty personal to me.

KW: One more thing: That the story has a lot of Minnesota elements is only mildly interesting.

PM: Oh, come on. You didn't get a little frisson of provincial pride at the mention of Lake Phalen, Mendota Heights, et al.?

PM: Oooh, I know what would really scare you. He should set his next book in a dirty house where there are clothes scattered on the floor and the chairs aren't pushed to the table ...

KW: All right, stop it ...

PM: ... the dresser drawers are only half-closed, ditto the closet doors, and the catbox hasn't been emptied in days ...

KW: I mean it, knock it off, this isn't funny anymore ...

PM: ... all the beds are unmade, there are dirty dishes in the sink, and ... wait! What's that? Oh, no! No! THE TOILET SEAT IS UP!

PM: Who says long marriages can't be fun?

Karin Winegar is a journalist and author. Peter Moore is an actor and director. They live in St. Paul. Obviously, they're married.