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The Stand, Complete & Uncut
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...with God's help you will stand...
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The Stand, Complete & Uncut
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A Novel Critique
Over the years, much has been made of The Stand, and with good reason. It’s certainly one of King’s most ambitious novels, using as it does both a gigantic cast and a dead, sprawling United States as its backdrop. And its characters are among King’s most memorable; just the names are enough to bring a smile to readers’ faces: Stu Redman, Frannie Goldsmith, Nick Andros, Larry Underwood, Glen Bateman, Ralph Brentner. Mother Abigail. Randall Flagg. It’s King’s most successful novel, and by far his most beloved. When Stephen Spignesi published his Essential Stephen King and ranked It as King’s best book above The Stand, the fan outcry was deafening. People are passionate about this book.
Which is why people were concerned when King announced plans to re-release The Stand in 1990, reestablishing formerly excised material and updating the book for a new generation. On the one hand, we’d be getting material that King’s former publisher – Doubleday – asked King to cut when he was still a fledgling author, material that might be relevant (even necessary) to not only the plot, but to the characters that moved the plot along. But on the other hand – if The Stand was already what most people thought of as King’s best book, why did we need this extra stuff? And why did it need an update?
Basically, the question remained: was this necessary? The answer? A glorious, satisfied yes.
The characters are far more well-defined. One of the cut scenes – a confrontation between Frannie and her mother regarding her pregnancy – underscores the character’s decision to have her baby against monstrous adversity. In the prior edition, Frannie is a bit flat as a character, serving little purpose but as the catalyst for three other male characters – Stu as her common-law husband, Harold as her obsessed would-be paramour, and the child himself. In the uncut version, she truly comes into her own, doing well to refute the notion that King can’t write female characters older than ten and younger than eighty.
On a related note, Mother Abagail herself – one of King’s very best characters – gets even more background and history. The ironic thing is, by giving Abagail Freemantle more to be proud of, her worry at committing the sin of pride, along with her subsequent journey, makes a lot more sense.
In addition, the enigmatic character of Trashcan Man gets some well-needed character work. During his trip through the desert to find Randall Flagg, Trash meets a dangerous psychopath named The Kid, who mentally and sexually abuses him during their strange time together. As Frannie’s devotion to her child makes more sense in this unexpurgated edition, so too does Trashcan Man’s devotion to Flagg. The Kid is a representation/culmination of the neverending cycle of abuse and torture at the hands of others; Flagg represents inclusion, camaraderie. Trash’s terror of and subsequent escape from The Kid works well to flesh out this relatively weak character, and to strengthen the resolve of his mantra, My life for you.
One minor issue that bears discussing: the book’s take on romantic relationships. Some of the wording – stuff like, “she’s Larry’s woman” – seem out of place in this edition. It’s not that the book is sexist – not with Mother Abigail as the leader of the good guys and this newer, more independent Frannie Goldsmith as its emotional core – but some of the language is. One wonders if this is an outgrowth of who the characters are, if this is a reaction to the actual situation in the book (if the world were decimated and retreated to a more primitive society, wouldn’t it stand that the more advanced cultural mores would retreat as well?), or whether this is simply a holdover from the earlier edition. It doesn’t detract from the enjoyment of the book, but it is certainly something to ponder.
The story itself is richer, yet – and this is odd – seemingly more concise. It covers thousands of more words and hundreds of more pages, but it still seems less sprawling than the original work. Part of the reason seems to be that every scene seems necessary, vital. It’s not as if the characters behaved erratically in the first edition, but here the motivations are clearer, more relevant. Every scene works as a part of a much larger puzzle, each forwarding the characters or the story along in some important way. In comparison, the ’78 version seems a bit flat, which causes sections to drag. You don’t so much read the new edition as live it, entirely inhabiting the world of King’s post-apocalyptic America. In a way, you feel as if you’re one of the superflu’s survivors.
The book was released with much fanfare and received warmly, both critically and by fans. It rocketed to #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list – something the “cut” version hadn’t done – and sold millions of copies. There were occasional gripes (most of these had to do with the update to 1990 – one reader proclaimed, “Madonna in a Stephen King book? I don’t think so.”), but in general, fans welcomed this edition openly, and have since treated it as the standard edition. In almost every way – from the story and characters all the way through to the stunning book design – this is the superior Stand.