Re-reading a favorite book is kind of like watching Arrested Development over and over: there’s always something new.
The first time I read It by Stephen King, I was young enough to only have a vague idea of what a blowjob was. I remember puzzling over the Eddie Kaspbrak versus leper scene, wondering what this obviously important and obviously dangerous thing called a “blowjob” was.
“How bout a blowjob, Eddie?” the apparition croaked, grinning with its remains of a mouth. It lilted, “Bobby does it for a dime, he will do it anytime, fifteen cents for overtime.” It winked. “That’s me, Eddie—Bob Gray. And now that we’ve been properly introduced…” One of its hands splatted against Eddie’s right shoulder. Eddie screamed thinly.
I thought it might be sexual. But I wasn’t sure. Clearly I shouldn’t have been reading It at this age.
I know I’ve re-read It between then and now, but the reading wasn’t especially remarkable except that I was able to appreciate King’s genius even more, being older and having a larger vocabulary. The fact it wasn’t especially remarkable probably reflects my age—and my reading capabilities at this age—more than simple forgetfulness. I’m assuming I read it during high school, when, while I was good at English class, we were still given specific essay prompts by our teachers. I could understand, and I could analyze, but not at a very high level in comparison to where I would be four or six years later.
I recently finished It once again, this time setting out with a specifically critical eye. I’m considering doing my senior thesis on Stephen King, specifically on sexuality in his works. A scene from It has always haunted me (yes, I notice the pun), and I don’t want to give anything away, but let’s just say it involves a lot of sex at a highly inappropriate age in a very strange setting. It’s always been a “what the fuck” scene for me—I can’t even imagine what I thought of it the first time around. There’s a difference between keeping a critical eye open while reading and actually analyzing the book. It’s like the difference between hitting the top of a buried treasure chest with your shovel and actually digging it out, opening it, and rifling through the contents. So although I knew that scene was very deliberately written (there’s no way you could write that scene without it having some sort of deeper meaning), I had never taken the time to really discover what it was—especially because I’m suspicious of any critical analysis that seems obvious.
When I explained to my Victorian literature-expert English advisor that I was interested in doing Stephen King for my thesis, I could sense the incredulousness. I’m a little sick of having to defend King over and over. I’ll be the first to say he has some awful books, but he also has some incredible work. “There’s so much going on in It,” I said. “I want to have an excuse to really figure it out.”
My recent quick, surface-reading of It confirmed this. It seemed like every other page my mental English critical lens light was going off, alerting me to “Feminist theory!” “Sexism!” “Regionalism!” “Post-colonialism!” “Foucault!” I’m not sure if there’s enough to write one hundred pages simply on It, but I can definitely demonstrate what I’ve learned as an English major with this book.
Almost every time you re-read a book, you have a different experience, and this (at least) third reading was no different. I picked up on themes and matched them with theorists more readily, but that wasn’t all. While re-reading It, I realized that one could probably argue that it’s highly sexist and racist.
Huh. Didn’t pick up on that when I was fourteen.
On one hand, this made me very sad because It is one of my favorite books.
On the other hand, I didn’t believe myself. Without having sat down and really dived into the book, I didn’t trust this reading. I was predicting the contents of the treasure chest based on its rusty, dirty, rotten lid. Furthermore, I had never heard of racist or sexist themes in King’s books before (though there are loads of critical essays I ought to read on him),* and I was skeptical that an intelligent writer could put so much thought into a novel and accidentally let such a controversial reading in without it being on purpose.
This made me only more interested in really analyzing the book. I have a feeling that there are enough inconsistencies within these sexist and racist themes to turn this initial reaction on its head. I want to give It and King a fair trial before making such assumptions, especially because I do have a lot of respect for King as a writer. At the very least, I want to be able to give a better argument for such a view besides such examples such as, “Everyone sexualizes/objectifies eleven-year-old Bev at some point, including her dad and It” and “Mike, the only black kid in the group, is the one who stays in Derry and therefore the only one who ends up poor.” And then I would have to spend the rest of senior year figuring out how to continue loving a sexist and racist book, if even possible. (Then again, there will always be a part of me that loves Heart of Darkness, and just ask Chinua Achebe about that one.)
I consider myself a very open-minded person, and although a lot of people say this, I sincerely mean it. Perhaps some writers have already written about this topic—I’ve yet to read their essays, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they exist. If so, I’d hope to take it down a different path, somehow. Again, It is now on trial, and I will keep it innocent until proven guilty. I don’t believe in judging something before you know what you’re talking about. And yes, that is strongly directed toward my friend who refuses to read The Hunger Games or see the movie.
I hope that by this time next year, I can open the pages of It and be surprised yet again.
*Update: Since writing this, which was actually done in May of this year, I’ve done more King research and there are plenty of essays that criticize his work for being sexist. I’ve actually not read any of these essays yet, but this is clear from their titles and summaries.
