Song of Turtle and Cry of the
Bear…the Tower is at hand.
Published in 2004, The Dark Tower
is the concluding volume of Stephen King’s long-running magnum opus. Picking up where Song of Susannah left off,
the Ka’tet continue their attempts to thwart the Crimson King’s plan to bring
the Tower down. This entails finding a
way to prevent the final two beams from snapping and preventing Stephen King
from dying. If either occurs, Discordia
rules. Mia’s chap adds further tension
to the tet’s precarious situation. While
young, he possesses powers similar to that of the Crimson King, and is at hand
to interfere. Bullets will fly, and
blood will shed before the tower is reached, and not all will end happily. All that matters is that the Tower stands.
King’s
prose is consistent with the prior two entries.
Not my favorite as a whole, but there are moments that could easily make
a favorite’s list, one of which I’ll address later. While there are several passages that might
drag for certain constant readers—I admit I had this issue several years ago
during my first read through—this didn’t bother me the second time. My mind has grown in the seven years since I
first read the series, increasing my patience and eye for detail. However, this still doesn’t temper my one
criticism when it comes to length. While
I do concede that Song of Susannah’s ending made for an excellent cliffhanger,
the first section of this entry could easily have been the climax. The Mia thread would have been tied up and
Book Seven could have begun with the Breakers.
Other than that, the novel’s length isn’t an issue.
King
introduces several new high speech phrases as the plot progresses, mainly
location names. While he felt that doing
so would bog things down—and probably because King is not a linguistics expert
like Tolkien was—this introduction adds weight to the High Speech. Having it automatically translated was nice for
clarity, but directly hearing the words builds upon Roland’s world. It also makes me wonder what a conversation
in the language would sound like.
Introduced
in the previous entry, King further elaborates on the Breakers, specifically
their culture. Constant Readers knew
Breakers were kidnapped from different levels of the Tower by the Can-toi, but
Ted Brautigan gives us a firsthand account of the process. While not exactly the same, the initiation is
akin to joining the mob. Once you’re in,
you’re in for good. Readers also learn
that despite being unable to leave, Breakers are treated like VIP’s. Because of this, many don’t have the desire
to leave. When their world is turned
upside down, most of them are unsure what to do. It seems using their minds to break the Tower
has robbed them of other mental faculties.
Originally introduced in King’s work Hearts
in Atlantis, Ted is a likable character, even though his past contains its
fair share of sins. Breaking the beams
is his latest one, although he has tried his best to postpone the fall. Aiding the Ka-tet is how he’ll set things
right.
Ted is
not the only older character to impact the plot dramatically. Patrick Danville, an artist introduced as a
child in Insomnia, returns as the third act begins. Found in the clutches of a vampire, Patrick
is emaciated and his tongue has been ripped out. While an odd return at first, as the plot
draws to a close the audience learns that Patrick possesses an important
power. With his art, Patrick can
manipulate the universe. Foreshadowed by
the horizontal shifting of a bison herd, the power is revealed when Susannah
asks Patrick to edit one of his drawings.
In addition to shifting the location of people or things, Patrick can
create and destroy. The Crimson King
fears this power, which is why Patrick has been locked away. While some might question why Patrick remains
alive, but considering how usefully the power is—and how greedy his keeper’s
hunger can be—it is more sensible to keep the artist alive.
King’s Meta
insertion continues. While it reaches
its logical conclusion, it could further turn off those who didn’t appreciate
or agree with this narrative choice. As
Song’s epilogue hinted, King inserts his late 90’s van accident into the plot,
interpreting it as an attempt on his life by the Crimson King. If left alone, this attempt will succeed,
King will die with the series unfinished, leaving the path to Discordia
unobstructed. The Ka-tet move to prevent
this. While they succeed in saving
King’s life, it comes at the cost of Jake’s own. This devastates Roland, as the gunslinger had
promised Jake he wouldn’t let him die again.
While this wasn’t a repeat of the fall, the gunslinger still blames
himself considering it was for the Tower.
He curses King for laziness, but leaves it at berating. Ka punishes the wordslinger enough with pain, curing Roland of his own hip ailment in the process. One could argue this is a plot convenience,
but given their physical similarities I’d say he was holding it for King. Jake’s burial is respectful, allowing
Roland and Oy the appropriate level of mourning before they must march on. Jake is gone, but the Tower calls.
This
leads into my next point: the breaking
of the Tet. Foreshadowed constantly
throughout the previous four books, it was only a matter of time before tragedy
shattered the group. That tragedy takes
place slowly as the characters fall one by one.
While not an official member, Callahan is the first to fall, his death
occurring inside the Dixie Pig. For fans
of ‘Salem’s Lot, this moment is bitter sweet.
While it is sad that the character dies, readers can find solace in
Callahan’s redemption. Ruined no more,
he puts up a decent spiritual fight against Barlow’s fellow vampire elders, his
own strength amplified by Maturin In
the end, elders are too strong for Callahan and he takes his own life, his last
middle finger at the beings who have plagued him for years. Before doing so, he leaves Roland with some
parting words, ones that will encourage the gunslinger during this endgame.
Eddie
Dean falls next. The first member that
Roland drew on the shore of the Western Sea, it is fitting that he is also the
first member to die. Victory was in
sight, and an oversight cost the jester his life. Although he holds on for a while, even a
gunslinger cannot hold back death. His
loss devastates Susannah, as Eddie was her motivation for moving forward to the
tower. With him gone, her only reason to
continue is loyally to Roland and Eddie’s memory. Eddie’s death also spiritually breaks the
Ka’tet. While the remaining four are
still a group, their link has been severed.
While
not as obvious as in novels like IT, King’s Lovecraftian influence does surface. The creature
encountered in the novels later half reminds me of the beings from The Shadow
Out of Time. Both inhabit subterranean
lairs, waiting for unsuspecting prey to enter their domains. To use a video game analogy, it comes across
as a dungeon boss, there to test the players before they move onto the next
area.
A
McGuffin for the previous novel, Mia’s chap has been promoted to secondary
antagonist. Named after King Arthur’s
bastard son, Mordred serves the same purpose as his classical namesake, with
King’s stylistic twist. The chap has two
fathers: Roland and the Crimson King,
each representing Mordred’s Mortal and Cosmic halves. While Mordred’s wishes echo those of the
Crimson King, there are moments that make one wonder what could have happened
if he had chosen to follow Roland. Given
the thematic nature of his namesake it wouldn’t surprise me if this road would
have led to Roland’s death. Despite his
placement in the hierarchy, Mordred’s inner monologues betray how naïve the
wereling is. He blindly follows his
cosmic father like any child who’s been indoctrinated, echoing sentiments
without thought. While his powers enable
him to see behind Randall Flagg, he is unable to see beyond what lays in front
of him, which leads to his undoing.
King’s most obvious callback is the
series main antagonists, Randall Flagg and the Crimson King. While originally created as a demon, Flagg’s
backstory has been fleshed out by this series.
While still evil, he has become well-rounded as the audience learns
details of his early life. While not all
is spelled out, enough is written for the Constant Reader to connect dots. Flagg is definitely an emissary in the
Nyarlthotep mold. Both are the right
hands of their respective masters, and shapeshift to suit their needs. Both also seemingly undermine their master’s
schemes, although for Howard’s creation it’s harder to say if this is
intentional or an afterthought. No such
ambiguity exists with Flagg, as his thoughts betray his desire to climb
the tower. These thoughts eventually
lead to his demise, one fitting for a character readers have hated for
decades. Suffering madness for madness’s
right hand.
Hinted at in the previous three
novels, constant readers finally see the Crimson King. While he had appeared in Insomnia, having not
read that novel yet I cannot comment or contrast. Here, readers find the King trapped on one of
the Tower’s balconies, driven mad by his circumstances; forever at the Tower,
but unable to summit. Like King’s
accident, this plot development did turn off some readers. The Crimson King was built up as the
Multiverses main antagonist, and yet he’s an insane elderly man in red robes. While I can understand this disappointment to
an extent, the King’s predicament never bothered me. It seemed logical given his
circumstances. Having read some of
Lovecraft’s work since then, I’ve grown to appreciate this development further,
as I’ve found Stephen King’s inspiration within the text. If Flagg is our Nyarlethotep, then the
Crimson King is Azathoth. While he
didn’t directly create the universe, he is a cosmic being whose existence
threatens humanities own. While Azathoth
is kept sleeping by his otherworldly court, the King is trapped by a
force—hinted to be Gan—beyond his control.
While I’m not declaring that one should drop any criticism of this
development, this knowledge should factor into one’s view. Just don’t go mad.
Like
Flagg, the Crimson King’s end is fitting.
While Roland does engage the King in a firefight, it is posturing. The King is expressing his anger while Roland
is defending himself. This impasse
forces the gunslinger to attempt another way around, thinking around a corner
to use his own terminology. While not
his best area, Roland does manage to scrape together the perfect plan. Patrick draws the Crimson King, erasing him
from existence as he erases the art.
Patrick only leaves the King’s eyes, cursing him to an eternity of
voyeurism.
While
it is hard to begin, sometimes it is equally hard to end. This is especially true for a series. King is well aware of this, which is why The
Dark Tower’s ending comes with a Dante warning once Roland crosses the threshold. After said warning, Roland ascends the Tower
slowly, each level representing a moment from his past. This is the reader’s first hint of what is to
come, but for the gunslinger it allows him to confront the ghosts of days gone
by. Regret has always hung over his
head, and in the tower it is given form.
Roland endures until he reaches the top, where he is greeted by a single
door. A callback to his conversation
with The Man in Black, this is the moment Roland has spent years perusing. Without hesitation, Roland opens the door. While not a door to some cosmic macroverse,
Roland is terrified by what lays beyond the threshold and understands its meaning. Not only has he reached the Tower before, but
it has cast him back to an earlier point upon reaching the top. While he attempts to fight, the hands of Gan
are cruel and his effort is in vain.
While this development won’t please every reader—I’ve read several
reviews where the individual has made their disappointment and distain clear—given
the nature of Roland’s character and his arc throughout the series, it works. A truly happy ending for him might not have
worked as well.
Back in the desert at his moment of
epiphany, Roland is left with no memories of his previous journey prior to that
point, although his hands and gear are restored. While cruel, the Tower has left the
Gunslinger with one symbol of hope: the
Horn of Eld. While he lost it at the
Battle of Jericho Hill and lamented not taking the time to retrieve it in the
main story, here Roland managed to do so.
While small, this infers to the reader that while Roland’s quest is
damnation for now, eventually he will succeed and find peace. How and when are left to the reader. With that, the story ends as it began: “The Man in Black fled across the desert, and
the Gunslinger followed.”
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