Pity
“How can a book be scary?” Mike, my 16-year-old stepson, asked after I told him he should read Stephen King’s IT right before the release of the 2017 adaptation. I was speechless. My initial reaction was shock, but then settled on pity. I pitied Mike.
I’d traversed the globe in books. I’d been married, divorced, left at the altar, single, gay, heartbroken, damaged, and elevated in books. I’d been to galaxies far, far away and lived under the ocean. Been shrunk and lived among the giants. Flown in starships, airplanes, jets, submarines. Ridden horses and
dragons, created beings, and seen planets destroyed. I’d also seen murders, witnessed atrocities of humanity, and triumphs of the most incredible heights.
But, yes, I’d also been scared. At forty four, I’m well beyond the age that it’s acceptable of being to be scared of fictional characters, but the one character who still haunts me to this day is Pennywise, Steven King’s sadistic clown from his book IT.
I pity those who don’t get to experience any of that from books. I also consider myself lucky that I do.
