For book ten of 2023, I took on Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher.
I’d heard in circles—and from King himself—that Dreamcatcher wasn’t anything special. Some considered it poor, as far as King’s standards go.
The story revolves around a group of boys/men (it bounces forward and backwards in time). This group once did something heroic as children, and that action now affects them as adults. In the present, they are on their yearly hunting trip when a bewildered man stumbles out of the forest. In the snowy stillness, the man rants and raves about lights in the sky and clutches his bloated gut.
Having demolished it in a few days, all I can say in response to the criticisms of this book is: “Huh?” I adored Dreamcatcher. It had everything that made me fall in love with King’s writing in the first place. Excellent horror, gross-out scenes, unpredictable twists and turns? Check. Fantastic characters, unpulled gut punches, and incredible tension? Check. Sure, the middle slows down the action, but it’s so King can weave the threads together for the finale.
The ending hit me like a ten-tonne truck, and I dare anyone to read the last 20 pages or so and not have goosebumps.
Undeserving of its less-than-stellar reputation, I can give Dreamcatcher two thumbs up.