Portfolio – Henna Ojala
Stephen King: It
Stephen King has been among my favourite authors ever since I was first introduced to his work around the age of 12. From there on I’ve read nearly half of his production in Finnish and watched a few movies based on his novels. What I love the most about his stories is the fact that they're so versatile, he just never seems to run out of ideas, and every time I grab one of his books I don't know what I'll be diving into. The only thing that’s guaranteed is the quality of Stephen King’s storytelling. When it comes to writing, he is my role model and I strive to learn from him in order to improve myself.
Even though I have yet to read some of King's most iconic novels such as Carrie and The Shining (which is a fact I’m deeply ashamed of), I have actually read It before in Finnish. I'd say it's without a doubt not only one of his best but one of the best in the whole horror genre. It’s needless to say that I just had to read it again, this time in its original language.
It all begins in 1957 as we're introduced to Bill Denbrough, a ten-year-old schoolboy from the town of Derry, who struggles with light stuttering and has a six-year-old younger brother called George. On one exceptionally normal and peaceful autumn-day while Bill lays sick in his bed at home, George is brutally murdered and Bill's life is forever changed. Despite George’s fate it isn’t until the next spring that the killings and disappearances in Derry truly begin and people start to realise there’s a murderer on the loose.
As if the situation is not bad enough already, Bill and his friends - Ben Hanscom, Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris and Mike Hanlon – experience a series of strange encounters with a horrifying creature they name It and quickly become convinced that It is behind all of the murders that have happened in Derry in the past few months. They quickly realise that because adults can't even see or hear It, they wont be getting any help from the grown-ups and have to put stop to the killings themselves. And in a way, they actually succeed.
Approximately 27 years later, Ithas returned to Derry and a promise the seven of them made during the summer of 1958 needs to be fulfilled. They have all gone on their own paths, forgetting all about the tragedies that took place in their childhood, but as they – except for one – gather together, the memories come flooding in. This time, without the blind fate of a child, they don’t know if they’ll make it out alive.
Stephen King is a genius when it comes to intriguing readers. The time jumps between 1958 and 1985 that go on throughout the whole novel guarantee that the story remains interesting without revealing too much information at once. Just the beginning is actually a very good example of this; in the first 50 or so pages King manages to capture events both from the past and the present. Personally, I absolutely love time jumps and I'm quite convinced Itwas the book that made me realise their potential back in the day.
Another reason for why this book is so amazing, is the expressive and rather detailed language King uses. All of the describing that he does really makes the story come alive still leaving enough room for the reader's own imagination. Because the book is quite long – approximately 1300 pages – some might think the plot would get boring after a while and nothing really happens at all. To that I can only say that it’s not so. Something is happening all the time from the first chapter to the last and there’s definitely no chance of boredom.
I mentioned that It is in my opinion one of the best horror novels of all times. One simple yet fascinating reason for that is the fact that It is more than just a horror book. In addition it’s a peek into the minds of totally different kind of people. It’s kind of a mild version of a psychological thriller and an extreme version of a horror story combined. It’s rather interesting too see the difference that 27 years has made to the all of the characters.
Personally my favourite part of the whole novel might be the part where Mike Hanlon calls all of his childhood friends to let them know what’s going on in Derry. When receiving the calls all of them have so different yet similar responsesand that was something that really aroused my interest in the first place.
I would recommend this book not only for someone who adores horror as much as Ido - which is a lot – but also to practically anyone. Especially if you have never read Stephen King's production before, I encourage you to try it and can almost guarantee you won’t be disappointed.
TheSanity of Theodore McLoughlin
1
Theodore McLoughlin had never hated anything on this planet (or perhaps in the entire universe) quite as much as he hated November, and if asked, he could easily name over a hundred reasons for that. He disliked the weather, thought the whole month was simply dull and felt as if everyone and everything got somehow depressing during those four weeks or so. But there was one reason in particular that stood out from all of the rest. On one of the coldest November nights almost three years ago Theodore had lost his joy of life, his hope for tomorrow and quite possibly – himself. In other words, he had lost his wife.
Theo was just a kid – or so he felt – when he first met Amanda Franklin at a college party he and his friends were throwing. Later on, he would tell everyone how it was "love at first sight" when in fact that wasn't exactly the truth. The truth was he had forgotten all about her the following morning and if it wasn't for his summer job at a local café they might have never encountered again. Either way, they did meet just a few days after the party and the rest was history. For the next seventeen years they hardly left each other's side until the fateful date of November 18th 2013.
The day had begun just like any other; they ate breakfast together in their tiny kitchen and walked to the bus stop holding hands. After that their paths separated as always and he got on the bus number 45 while she stayed waiting for the 78. Somewhere between Grattan bridge and the City Hall his phone started ringing and feeling suddenly a little uneasy he answered it. There had been an accident, someone told him. By then there wasn't really any hope left and although the person on the other side of the line didn't say it, he knew it. The "perfectly normal" day of his had taken a drastic turn and there was no going back – ever.
Mandy's funeral was simple yet beautiful Theo got more sympathy cards and flowers than he could handle. But what good were lilies and roses when she was always the flower-lover of the family? A year later the truck driver who had run over Amanda McLoughlin was sentenced to three years in prison, which Theo only found out from his neighbour some time after. He hadn't been following the process and couldn't care less about it. No punishment in the world would bring her back and that was all that mattered to him.
Every year since then, Novembers got gradually harder and harder to him. Now it being his third November without Mandy, he was getting rather sure that he couldn't make it.
2
For a man in his early forties, Theo had exceptionally boyish features which often led to people mistaking him as ten – or sometimes closer to twenty – years younger. Therefore, whenever he went down to the corner shop to buy some cigarettes or beer for the weekend, the cashier would spend a long while studying his face and then ask for his ID anyway.
Having to prove his age didn’t really bother him, but the fact that he had been visiting the same corner shop every week since he moved to the area and still had to perform the same ritual every single time, had begun to get on his nerves during those seven years. But because it was the only store within a five-mile radius of his house, he somehow found a way to bear it, and once again stood in the narrow beverage aisle trying to choose between Guinness ad Murphy's. Unable to make the decision, he compromised and took both grabbing along a small bag of dog crackers on his way to the checkout.
The store was quiet as usual and the girl behind the counter seemed to be absorbed in a paperback novel which was – judging by the cover – some sort of a love story. When Theo laid his purchases in front of her, she quickly marked her place in the book and smiled at him carelessly. He was trying to avoid looking at her while she scanned the items, but he could almost feel how her eyes stared right through him, considering what to do. “Surely she thinks I'm 17... For God's sake would someone tell these people they need glasses”, he thought to himself and automatically reached for his driver’s license. Then he waited patiently for the girl to open her mouth and utter the words "ID, please" for what felt like an eternity all while pretending to count his money time after another. The silence between them was only broken by the dusty air conditioner in the corner.
“9,50, please”, she said at last and smiled at him again, more genuinely this time.
“S-Sorry?” Theo stuttered in a state of shock.
“I said 9,50, please”, the girl repeated politely and even though he had understood the words the first time around, he still had hard time believing them. Astounded, he handed her a fistful of coins and silently watched as she counted them one by one and put them in to the cash register. He was still holding his driver’s licence in the other hand feeling both embarrassed and stunned. In a way he had been waiting for this moment all his life, but at the same time hadn’t he also dreaded it? It felt as if part of his identity had been taken away from him, as insane as it sounded.
“Are you alright, sir?” the cashier-girl asked him looking rather worried and Theo realised she had been trying to hand him a plastic bag containing the dog treats and beer he had just bought.
"Oh, yes of course! Thank you", he said trying to look as casual as he could while taking his bag. Then he simply smiled at her and headed towards the door.
"Have a nice weekend!" the girl shouted from behind him, and without bothering to answer Theo was out on the street and able to breathe again.
3
During the three-mile walk home, Theo had had plenty of time to think. So he had thought about the last night's game, what he would eat for dinner once he got home and if he should buy the home theatre setup he had seen in the magazine earlier that week. He had thought about pretty much everything, but standing now in front of his hall mirror, there was only one thing on his mind.
"I'm old", he said to himself and that observation seemed so peculiar that he chuckled a little. He was 43 and it had never before occurred to him that he was in fact aging. From his reflection he could clearly see the wrinkles on his forehead and the bags under his eyes. For a moment, he could've even sworn to have seen some grey hair. "But certainly they weren't there two weeks ago. I would've noticed, wouldn't I",he wondered, "I would've noticed, but I didn't, simply because they weren't there. Because... two weeks ago it was October and it was all okay. So it is; it's the November, it has to be. I am the human embodiment of November, aren't I?" he chuckled again.
He sighed and turned away from the mirror, away from that dreadful caricature picture of himself which he had been too blind to see until now. He knew it was crazy - "the human embodiment of November" - but he also knew for a fact that he was going crazy, so therefore it made all the sense in the world. He was, after all, a logical man who needed an explanation for everything and if he found one, he'd be happy. "Well isn't this just so damn merry?" , he thought – and chuckled.
4
It started just a week ago when he was on his way home from the city after yet another unsuccessful job interview in one of the small real estate companies Dublin's City Centre was full of. After his wife’s passing he had resigned from his position as the CEO of McLoughlin's Housing - the business he had inherited from his father some years ago – and utterly isolated himself from the outside world. When he finally decided to go back into the job market, he was discreetly given the cold shoulder. His old company had gone bankrupt and all of the employers he had so far been in touch with seemed to be looking for someone more highly educated and - most importantly - younger.
So there he was again; staring numbly out of the filthy bus window as the City Centre's high-class apartments with glass balconies and green roofs were left behind and the bus arrived to the suburb of Whitehall – a place he had called home for years now and at the same time grown very much attached to. Despite all the painful memories its streets and buildings aroused, he had chosen to stay and couldn't even imagine living somewhere else.
"But isn't home where your heart is? How can I call a house a home when she's not there", Theo thought and turned his gaze from the window to the palms of his hands. Not thinking of anything, he begun to scratch the lines of his right palm fighting back the tears that were about to happen. He was so focused on his task that he didn't even notice how the world around him got all blurry and grey until he pressed the stop button on the side of his bench and ran out through the middle-doors of the bus.
Once he got out, the colours started to creep in again and the tears he had been holding back just flowed down in an unstoppable stream. When he was done crying approximately fifteen minutes later, he sat down on the sidewalk and watched as people rushed around carrying their groceries with one hand and holding on to their children with the other. "They are on they way home", he smiled to himself. But it wasn't a smile of a happy man nor did it show any emotions at all. He was tired and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, barely hanging on to sanity.
A few hours later, as the twilight settled on top of the rooftops, Theo got up and moving. The rain begun just after he closed the door of his apartment behind him and it lasted through the whole night. He knew that because he laid awake in his bed listening to the steady drumming of the raindrops. When it finally stopped, it was a brand new morning and at last, he was able to close his eyes for a moment.
5
Once upon a time the apartment Theo lived in had been filled with colourful canvases and different kind of houseplants. Now, it looked more like a dim chamber than anyone’s home. The walls were covered in dust, the windows hadn’t been cleaned for years and there were spider webs hanging all over the ceiling. Out of the three lights in the kitchen only one was still working, causing the room look even more gloomy and depressing.
Theo dug out his beer cans from the blue plastic bag and placed them on the top row of the refrigerator which was full of quick-meals, empty bottles and mouldy bread rolls. He was just about to throw the bag away when he noticed there was still something in there. The dog crackers. "Fuck", he thought. He hadn't even realised he had bought them. His eyes sifted to the empty metallic red dog food bowl next to the doorway. Written on its side with golden letters was the name "Chumpie". Theo stared intensely at the bowl for a moment, then opened the fridge door he had just closed and took out a Guinness can.
"Chumpie", he whispered as if trying to wrap his head around something extremely odd and complicated, "Where in the world is Chumpie?" He sat down on one of the kitchen stools, opened the can of beer and took a rather large sip out of it. He really didn't know where Chumpie was, but at least he knew where he wasn't. He wasn't where he was supposed to be, right there sleeping in his own little basket in the living room. For the past five years, you could've find him there at all times, but not anymore.