Stephen King is the giant that hangs over contemporary horror. He is popular, prolific, and a powerhouse of publishing. His work has been translated into film, television, and audio drama. He’s written columns for Entertainment Weekly, and his social media following is huge. Podcasts and analysis of his work have a subculture of their own. In short, his effect on popular culture is undeniable. So it should come as no surprise that King’s alma mater has an endowed chair named after him. University of Maine’s Stephen E. King Chair in Literature is presently held by Caroline Bicks, who, to the surprise of none, is a fan of King’s work—so much so that she wrote Monsters in the Archives: My Year of Fear with Stephen King, a book which takes Professor Bicks into King’s personal archives.
As the title suggests, Bicks spent a year with King’s personal archives at his residence in Maine. This is the first time a scholar has had lengthy access to these archives. In them, she explores King’s creative process by going through drafts of his work. Bicks limits her book to five of King’s early works: Pet Sematary (1983), The Shining (1977), Night Shift (1978), ’Salem’s Lot (1975), and Carrie (1974). That’s four novels and a collection of stories for those counting at home. Bicks delves into each work with literary analysis, but she also interweaves her own background, her own experiences with King’s work, as well as biographical material from King’s life. The effect is charming and makes for an enjoyable read.
Bicks shows how changes from draft to draft affect King’s work and documents her own responses to those changes. While she analyzes each of the five selected works individually, she also personalizes each analysis. I found this engaging: King’s writings have been with me through my life, too; I have bonded with friends, family, and strangers have bonded over King’s novels. And Bicks dissects how personal and publisher editing notes shaped the novel’s narrative. The Pet Sematary section also focuses on the craft of writing and progressing through the creative process, digging into the nuts and bolts of King’s writing and his process. It is a treasure trove of information for an aspiring writer. In addition, Bicks provides insights into how the story originated and some of King’s own thoughts on this story. By contrast, The Shining analysis focuses on the scenery, the description and the choices, that populate the Overlook hotel. While Bicks’s analysis of Pet Sematary feels more like a dissection of the mechanics of King’s writing, The Shining analysis resembled more of the literary analysis that I’ve read elsewhere. It’s effective and insightful.
The Night Shift section changes gears again and dives more into King’s biography and how it affects his writing. Bicks focuses on King’s college years, even quoting from his column in his college newspaper. She pieces together his biography through his short stories and shows how his maturing informed them. It’s a moving portrait of an early King working through his life on page. In her section on ‘Salem’s Lot, meanwhile, Bicks dives into Maine’s particular effect on the writer. She demonstrates how closely ‘Salem’s Lot ties into King’s experiences moving around the state: “when [his mother] had little more than a year left to live, King began writing a novel on the place she’d brought him to as a boy—the town he’d grown up in and come to love” (p. 155). At the same time, it seems as if all the earlier lessons have begun to converge on this section. Readers are treated to the process by which King refines ‘Salem’s Lot into the classic that it is today. Bicks demonstrates how the mechanics of the writing/editing process, the imagery and scenery, and place all come together to evoke a truly terrifying story.
For the Carrie section, Bicks brings all these aspects fully together. The personal connections of both her and King, craft analysis, literary analysis, and additionally the continued importance—the persistence—of Carrie. It’s fitting that King’s first published novel is the capstone of an analysis of his work.
The Penguin Random House website describes this book as “[p]art literary master class, part biography, part memoir and investigation into our deepest anxieties.” It is all those things, but I read it more as memoir. Bicks’s presence looms large over each section, and it makes for a better book. “As I grew into my teenage years,” she writes, “a whole posse of King’s creatures danced their way into my imagination and made themselves at home” (p. 12). The magic of King’s work—dare I say, of all literature—is the effect it has at an individual level. By connecting her own life to the work she studies, Bicks allows her readers see the effect of King’s writing on an individual. This approach elevates even stories that I didn’t connect to because it shows me why Bicks was able to make those connections. Where reviews and analysis can often disconnect the individual experience, Monsters in the Archives makes analysis more human through Bicks’s vulnerability.
While readers are told not to assume the words on the page have anything to do with their author, this isn’t entirely true. Writing is affected by the moments in an author’s life and times. Over the course of a large body of work, we see themes, locales, situations, and motifs that recur. King’s constant use of Maine as a setting provides evidence of that. Naturally, it follows that, as writers are human, their everyday life affects them beyond mere stylistic choices. Nevertheless, as readers, we must be careful when making inferences about an author’s mental state from their work. After all, fiction is professional lying. So, when Bicks looks at moments in King’s life to connect to his stories, particularly in the section on Night Shift, her analysis exhibits restraint in a way that I think is admirable. Take, for example, this sentence: “When he wrote this version, King was closer to the undergraduate years during which he was grappling with these disillusioning truths” (p. 144). In her analysis of connecting King confronting his nation while protesting the war to his stories, she proceeds with care into the territory of psychoanalysis. It’s effective and moving.
I’m a Stephen King reader, but I’m not a King completist. So I hadn’t read Pet Sematary or Carrie prior to reading Monsters in the Archives. I have read parts of Night Shift but not the full thing. While Bicks’s analysis was enjoyable, it didn’t make me want to read those stories, and her thoroughness means I don’t have to: If it’s important to you, this book will spoil the titles that she analyzes. Bicks is thorough and covers the story from stem to stern. While I’m sure that those familiar with the stories will gain more out of her writing, there’s plenty to be gained for those who haven’t read these works. For example, Bicks highlights how word choice in Pet Sematary tunes the novel toward specific imagery and effect. This analysis especially demonstrates King’s meticulous attention to craft and reader response. It’s an amazing tour through the process that creates fan favorites.
On the other hand, in the case of The Shining and ‘Salem’s Lot—for both of which I have read and watched movies—Bicks’s analysis deepened my appreciation of both works. ‘Salem’s Lot is my favorite vampire story and, until his son Joe Hill’s Heart-Shaped Box (2007) came along, the scariest novel I had ever read. Sometimes, dissection of a favorite work diminishes it, but that didn’t happen here. After finishing the ‘Salem’s Lot section, I had to stop myself from starting a reread of King’s classic: Bicks’s analysis inspires a closer read of ’Salem’s Lot not only to enjoy that wonderful story but also to appreciate the crafting of its sentences, how King twists the horror from being an external one to one born of and internal to the town itself. That’s what great literary analysis does. It helps us appreciate works of art more. It adds enjoyment to a story that has already given us joy. Caroline Bicks’s Monsters in the Archive does just that: It adds layers to already wonderful works of art. Now, excuse me as I go start my reread of ’Salem’s Lot.