There are certain books that every true blue horror fan should read at least once: Dracula and Frankenstein, of course; Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House; Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend all come easily to mind. I wouldn’t hesitate to include The Shining in that category as well. Last month horror specialty press Cemetery Dance even put out a special edition of the novel that includes a prologue and epilogue King wrote into the original manuscript but which publishers omitted from all previous editions. Unfortunately, I do not have that edition; the one I own is the one pictured to the left, which does have a sample of the novel’s sequel Doctor Sleep at the back.
If you’re not familiar with the book’s plot (which has seen not one but two filmed adaptations, including the definitive Stanley Kubrick movie—a horror classic in its own right—and a TV miniseries in the early nineties), then you, sir or madame, must have been living under that proverbial rock for the last forty years. Given the age of the novel, spoiler warnings are off the table. Just sayin’. Very briefly, the story’s about a haunted hotel set high in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, and the Torrance family who become its caretakers during the hotel’s off-season. As winter sets in, the hotel becomes more and more isolated by snowstorms, and soon the ghosts surface and begin to terrify the family of three, especially five year old Danny Torrance, whose special psychic abilities give the novel its name. It’s not a particularly original concept; however, there are some aspects that set it apart from your standard haunted house fare.
For one thing, the hotel was not built on desecrated ground . . . at least, not in the book. Kubrick actually changed this part (and several others, arguably for the worse in many cases) and used the desecrated burial ground trope, though it’s only mentioned in passing, really. Poltergeist, released two years later, used the same trope much more effectively, I think. In the book, though, it is simply a series of violent tragedies over the hotel’s long history that ultimately taints it and invests it with its spectral “life.”
For another thing, the black guy is still alive by the end, another thing Kubrick changed. It may seem like a minor point, but given the horror genre’s habit of killing off minorities—usually early in the story—I think it’s important to note that King subverted that genre standard way back in 1977, long before political correctness became a thing. This doesn’t mean there aren’t some problems with his handling of the black character. Dick Hallorann, the Overlook’s head chef, uses the ‘n’ word self-referentially and talks jive perhaps a little too often. Moreover, aside from Danny, he’s the other major character who has the shining, and he serves basically one purpose here: as Danny and Wendy’s savior, making him just this side of the Magic Negro. It’s a trope King milked for all it was worth in The Green Mile, but here he flirts with it. What ultimately redeems the Hallorann character, however, is the fact that King was clearly making a larger point with him. The chef becomes a sort of mentor to Danny, and his concern for the boy is rooted almost entirely in the psychic powers they share, as it allows him to instantly connect with little Danny in a deep way when he meets him. In other words, had it not been for Danny’s “shining” it is likely Hallorann wouldn’t have given the Torrances a second thought.
Now, Stephen King is known to not be a fan of the Stanley Kubrick film adaptation. If one has never read the book, it may seem difficult to understand why. I mean, Kubrick is a directorial genius who made what has since been recognized as one of the greatest horror films of all time. But after rereading The Shining, I can see his side of things. I’m not saying I agree with him, only that as a writer myself, I can comprehend his frustration with the way Kubrick tampered with some of the best aspects of his story. The animated topiary animal shrubs are a good example. Though to be fair, those would’ve been difficult to pull off with the special effects technology available in 1980. Still, if anyone could’ve done it without making it look cheap, it would’ve been Stanley Kubrick. Instead he replaced them with the now-famous hedge maze. It’s an artistic choice I comprehend (the maze echoes the labyrinthine nature of the hotel itself, further echoed by the interlocked patterns of the carpet), but King has a point too. For one thing, Kubrick softens Jack a bit by having him merely dislocate Danny’s arm rather than break it as he does in the book. This is relevant, because Jack is the progeny of an abusive alcoholic father himself. In part, King’s novel is about whether young parents are destined to repeat their own parents’ failures. Ever the optimist, King has Jack nearly succeed in breaking the cycle . . . if not for that pesky haunted hotel that slyly seduces him back into his old destructive habits and ultimately drives him mad.
Well, King may be an optimist at heart, but he does seem to suggest that our psyches are fragile enough that we must always be on guard against the lures of the negative patterns that sometimes guide our lives. One gets the feeling from reading The Shining that King well understood how close we all come sometimes to the brink of self-directed ruin, and that is the real horror here. The conceit of the haunted hotel is merely the frosty coating on top of what’s really cooking beneath the surface. There’s a reason the concept behind the novel works so well: beyond the actual ghosts, this is, in fact, a masterful psychological study of a man who finds himself more and more isolated from his family and ultimately from himself. In one sense Jack is the Overlook: on the outside he’s a cool and attractive customer, but underneath he’s a man haunted by his own history, constantly on the verge of exploding like the hotel’s faulty boiler.
There’s a real sense of desperation and grittiness in the book, the sign of a writer who knew intimately the fears of poverty and failure that drive Jack, who was not so far removed from them yet himself. King was still an up-and-coming author with a young family when he wrote The Shining, and its obvious he empathized with and understood his characters, a quality he invests in Jack Torrance. And that makes it all the more tragic when Jack finally loses it and turns against his wife and son. I could say much more about this book and its place in the canon of horror fiction, how it is one of the more important works in bridging the gap between Old World and New World supernatural literature, for example. Perhaps I’ll save that for another time. I will leave you with this instead: The Shining is the perfect winter read for fans of the genre, and if you’ve never experienced it in any form but the Kubrick film, now is the time to pick it up.