“How does it happen that a writer who’s not even very good—and I can say that, I’ve read four or five of his books—gets to be in charge of the world’s destiny? Or of the entire universe’s?” “If he’s not very good why didn’t you stop at one?”
**Dark Tower VII, Chapter III **
Stephen King is the Lay’s Potato Chip of authors. His omnipresence makes him an easy target for abuse. The above quotation captures it perfectly. King is a bad writer, but an excellent storyteller—in the same way that Lay’s makes bad chips, but the kind you can’t stop eating.
He seems to effortlessly generate tactile, believable worlds. But what makes him memorable is his knack for producing lines that seem to transcend the story itself. These phrases land in the center of the twilight zone—or, as folks in the Dark Tower might say, in Todash Space.
Here’s one example from the third book:
“He stirs no more from his berth in the cradle—not for years now. He has even stopped speaking in his many voices and laughing.”
Those two sentences are a small masterpiece. The combination of conflicting imagery and emotion is exactly what elevates the series.
King also has a gift for inventing words that instantly communicate a vision and provoke a reaction. Take lobstrosities, for example—a four-foot-long crustacean that plucks seagulls from the air at high tide. He doesn’t need to over-describe them; the word makes them easy to imagine.
The series’ weakest points come when King leaves his wheelhouse—writing romance, or really just women in general. Some of the “boss fights” also fizzle out, resolving themselves a bit too neatly.
That said, the ending is excellent. Finishing a series like this is, I imagine, the hardest part to get right—and the easiest to ruin. King sticks the landing.