The Mist

  • 2007
  • Signet
  • 240 pages
  • Originally published as part of Skeleton Crew

    • ...expiation!...

    It’s unusual, to say the least, to read something like The Mist as a stand-alone book. As the opening tale of Skeleton Crew, it set the pace and rhythm for that book, so that the remainder of the collection organically followed, building, as King scholar Michael Collings notes, “to the intensity of a novel.”

    So what happens when a novella effectively becomes a novel? It’s an interesting question. The Mist isn’t as long as Carrie or The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, but it rivals The Colorado Kid for page count. On the other hand, it is dwarfed by something like “The Langoliers,” the lead-off story from Four Past Midnight. What makes a novel a novel? Is it page count? Is it the depth and complexity of the story? Is it the fact that a movie’s coming out and the producers wanted a cheap way to market it in book form? I’m sure there are many factors.

    What’s intriguing is that The Mist actually works as its own novel, perhaps more easily now than at any other point in King’s career. In 1980, when the novella was first published in the Dark Forces anthology, King was all about resolution. Books like The Dead Zone, Firestarter, and Cujo all had definite, concrete endings. Even the original publication of The Stand, which ends with the enigmatic, “I don’t know,” had had a satisfying climax and resolution (or two. Or three.) But The Mist? The Mist doesn’t end.

    It’s interesting, I think, to contrast the legacy of The Mist and the reaction to King’s more recent open-ended books. By and large, The Mist has been a fan favorite for years. And yet, the reactions to books like From a Buick 8, The Colorado Kid, and Cell have been pretty angry, the main argument that King “didn’t know how to end it, so he just left everyone hanging.” There’s a bit of disparity there, and I wonder why. I’ve been a big, big fan of this somewhat recent development in King’s long-form stories, and I think the re-publication of The Mist (commercial concerns aside) fits in with what King’s trying to say now.

    How’s the story? As scary as you remember, if not more. Reading it solo like this makes you pay attention to little details more – David Drayton’s relationship with his son, for instance, and how he notices near the end that he’s sleeping too much. It’s a very human observation in a story that’s very much about monsters. I also liked David’s determination to head home, no matter what the cost Ö only to find out that the road is impassible. One of the few things that’s kept him going throughout the entire book is the hope that he might see his wife again. To have that hope yanked away by something as pragmatic as a tree in the road is indicative of The Mist’s human perspective in the face of unreal horrors.

    As for the depth and complexity? Not so much. But that’s okay. Here we have a single situation and a few basic characters. The characters are allowed to grow and change, but only so much in the scant 240 pages allotted. What we have is a relentless, propulsive read with believable (if slightly superficial) characters doing the best that they can in an impossible situation. We also have a story that ends with the same word as ended “Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption,” something likely not overlooked when Frank Darabont chose to direct it. The Mist as a book is a marketing gimmick, sure, but it’s a good one. If you haven’t read The Mist in years, do yourself a favor and pick this up. If you haven’t read The Mist at all, do yourself a favor and read it before you see the film. You won’t be disappointed.