Literature Review | The Dark Tower VII (The Dark Tower)

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.” 

First Impressions | Avengers Infinity War

While it has its highs and lows, I consider myself a fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.  Like many of my fellow fans, my anticipation grew as Phase One’s end grew closer, watching each film in theaters.  This anticipation grew further when The Avengers premiered.  While not perfect, it was a satisfying end to Phase One, and its mid-credits scene perfectly set up future story arcs.  That scene gave us the first film appearance of the mad Titan, Thanos.  While I had no idea who he was at first, a quick google search was enlightening.  This peaked my interest, which continued to grow as Phase Two and Phase Three moved forward.  While his on-screen appearances were brief, Thanos (Josh Brolin) hung over the MCU like a rain cloud, waiting for the precise moment to burst.  That moment has come with Avengers Infinity Wars.  

As the title suggests, the film’s plot focuses on the Infinity Stones, McGuffin’s introduced during Phase One and elaborated on during Phase Two.  Thanos’ goal is to collect all six stones and place them in his Infinity Gauntlet, which would give him the power to balance the universe.  It is up to both the Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy to thwart Thanos, but not everything goes as planned.  Battles are fought, stones are collected, and a smile grows.

            How did I enjoy the film overall?  While it might be too early to say for certain, I enjoyed it and Age of Ultron roughly equally, and it was a step up from Civil War.  Of those two, the latter makes a better comparison, as both films were directed by the Russo’s and are “Cross-overs.”  While enjoyable, Civil War felt off at times both dramatically and thematically.  I get what Marvel and the Russo’s intended, but their execution needed improvement; I still question the logic of putting General Ross on the presidential cabinet, to the point where it has become a personal joke.  With Infinity War, not only do I understand what the filmmakers intended, but I agree with the execution.  I personally would have made the film darker at points, I’ve long since made my peace with Disney and Darkness.

            Like Civil War, one worry I had was how Infinity War would handle its large cast of characters.  While the MCU has handled it well to varying degrees, even previous Avenger’s films hadn’t contained a main cast this large.  That said, the film balances its ensemble cast well; not one feels short-changed.  While some are more important to the plot than others and thus have more screen time, it didn’t bother me.  I expected this to be the case; my only question was who would be shortchanged.  Sadly, Hawkeye and Antman were nowhere to be seen.  While the latter’s sequel is probably taking place parallel to Infinity Wars, Hawkeye’s absence is odd.  He has a family, so one would assume he’d be in to take down an antagonist who threatens their existence.  Perhaps the Russo’s couldn’t figure out how to squeeze him in without seeming forced or wasteful.  Either way, hopefully he’ll be in the sequel, especially if the ending personally impacted him.  Loki was also presented well.  I feared Marvel would make his recent development pointless, but thankfully that worry was moot.  Without spoilers, Loki was handled respectfully.

            Like most of the post-Disney films, there is plenty of humor.  While this has turned off some to recent entries—as an aside Thor Ragnarok had several funny moments that could have been cut to help the drama—here it isn’t intrusive.  While Thanos does hang over the cast, the humor is derived from character interaction:  friendly bickering, planning and the occasional one-liner.  The cast’s great acting helps sell these moments; if anyone fell flat, a moment would fail.  The interactions provide plenty of drama, which is a foil to the humor and helps the main plot progress.  Of the new interactions if I had to choose a favorite it’d be Thor, Rocket and Groot.  While an odd pairing, the two had me smiling wide during their scenes, especially since Thor can understand Groot.

            How does the film treat Thanos?  While it can be said one of the MCU’s shortcomings is its villains, Thanos does not fall victim to that “curse.”  From the opening scene, the audience is made aware of just how threatening the mad Titan is.  While before he’d simply been talked up, when one can take out both Thor and the Hulk in single combat one’s high threat level is assured.  This threat level continues to rise as Thanos collects the Infinity Stones, this goal putting him into direct combat with our heroes.  While he only directly takes part in two battles, both effectively show off his strength and cunning.  While it will sadden some comic fans, Lady Death is nowhere to be seen, as is her part in Thanos’ motivation.  Despite this, the Titan’s reason to collect the Stones is logical:  he wishes to balance the universe by instantaneously cutting its population in half.  This is where the film becomes allegorical, as overpopulation is problem humanity will have to address over the next several centuries.  Thanos foresaw it would become a problem on Titan, but no one listened to him and the civilization eventually collapsed from lack of resources.  Thanos does not want this to happen on a universal scale, enter the Infinity Gauntlet.  While the plan is grandiose and mad, one can understand Thanos.  While he is killing millions of beings, the Titan believes he’s doing so for the greater good.  As Star Trek worded it, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

            In addition to his plan, the audience sees another side of Thanos, brought about thru his interactions with Gamora.  While he called her his “Favorite daughter” in Guardians of the Galaxy, until now the line had no context.  Here, we see Thanos interact with grown Gamora after he acquires the Reality Stone and child Gamora via a flashback.  The Titan might be harsh and his universal plan dark, but he lives his daughter like any father would; there’s even a “boyfriend meets father” moment, which is our first insight into this side of Thanos.  While touching, this love causes internal conflict for Thanos during his search for the Soul Stone, the only Infinity Stone with no recorded history.  To acquire the stone, Thanos must sacrifice someone he loves, and he only loves his favorite daughter.  Begrudgingly Thanos sacrifices Gamora for the stone, a soul for a soul.  The Titan gains power, but internally he hurts, the act having torn his heart asunder.  While the word doesn’t describe Thanos one-hundred percent, this is the closest the Titan comes to being a sympathetic figure, one worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy.  It also makes Starlord’s actions when he discovers this information understandable, even if undermines the grand plan.

            The action scenes are shot competently.  While there were some moments of shaky-cam, the Russo’s dialed it back when compared to their Captain America films, saving it battlefield tracking shots.  The special effects are amazing, as always with the MCU; with how much each entry costs to produce they have no excuse not to be. The only personal complaint I have is that two of Thanos’ new children could have been brought to life with make-up rather than motion capture; it’s simply my preference when possible.    

            The hardest element to address without major spoilers is the ending.  It should be no surprise that Thanos ends up winning, even if one has not read the source comic (raises hand).  To that end, many of the main cast end up vanishing into dust, the scene feeding off the audience’s emotional ties to the characters.  We feel a sense of loss as they crumble, spurred on by the reactions of those around them.  While I knew it was coming, two parts of the scene still moved me deeply:  the deaths of Groot and Peter.  The former I didn’t expect to die again so quickly.  The latter arises from how the scene was blocked, acted and edited; for those who have seen the film, you know what I mean.  The film ends with a cliffhanger, fading to black before the credits.  At least one member of the audience I was with was shocked by this, as he yelled “What the fuck” as the credits began rolling.  While I smirked, it shows not everyone had the same expectations for the denouement.  Speaking of which, I know not everyone will feel the ending—I know one of my contemporaries falls into this category—but I understand why.  Marvel Studios ruined part of the impact with a handful of its announced future films.  While knowledge of the comics could have caused this same feeling, it wouldn’t be to the same degree.  Future viewings could have also tempered the impact, but I’d prefer retroactive tempering to in the moment tempering; at least retroactively one can still feel in the moment, especially when marathoning a series.
           While it hadn’t crossed my mind originally, one theory I’ve seen floating online involves Iron Man’s survival.  As his life is traded for the Time Stone, Thanos spares him.  At first glance, this appears odd, but since Dr. Strange had looked at possible outcomes with the stone and found only one where they prevailed, it’s not a stretch to presume Tony had to survive the encounter for this to occur.  This raises a question of why fight on Titan at all?  Well, the good doctor never stated they won there, only that they won overall.  After handing the stone over, he even admitted they were now in the endgame.  Filmgoers will have to wait for the next Avengers film to discover if this element was a red herring; if not, I wonder how it’ll play out.  

            Overall, Infinity Wars is a great film.  While it throws dozens of characters at the audience, none feel lost in the shuffle.  While Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 is still my favorite entry of Phase 3, this is easily number two, as it balances its humor and drama well, even if one theme was slightly neutered (Thanks Kevin).

A Rose For Emily (Plot and Plot Devices)

William Faulkner’s short story “A Rose for Emily” is an excellent example of a non-linear narrative.  Beginning with the passing of Emily, the narrator recounts events that have transpired during the course of her adult life.  Emily’s father passed away when she was around thirty-years-old, and the event caused her to have a minor mental breakdown.  She recovered and soon became interested in a man named Homer Barron, a day laborer from the North (the story is set in the post-Civil War south).  Everyone in town is soon gossiping about this courtship, with many speculating that their relationship has become physically intimate, which for a lady of Miss Emily’s station would be dishonorable.  Several of Emily’s relations soon visit, supposedly to aid her in tying Homer in matrimonial bonds.   While mostly implied by the narrator, the audience infers that Emily and Homer had a protagonist-antagonist relationship with this subject, with most of the arguing occurring behind closed doors.  This causes Homer to leave town, but he returns shortly thereafter, only to disappear again for good.  This second vanishing sends Emily into a self-imposed seclusion, with the townsfolk rarely catching sight of her.  It is only after her funeral that the shocking yet satisfying truth is revealed:  Emily had killed Homer, keeping his body in her upstairs bedroom, where Emily would occasionally lay beside him.  This reveals the extent of Emily’s internal crisis.  The breakdown she suffered following the death of her father revealed that she had trouble letting go.  Homer’s brief desertion magnified this problem, and when he returned Emily made sure he’d never leave her again.  This action is foreshadowed near the end of Part III, when the narrator recounts how Emily purchased arsenic, intimidating the druggist in the process.  When I read the story for the first time in sixth-grade I overlooked this detail but re-reading with foreknowledge of the twist ending it was easy to spot.  Based on Faulkner’s wording, it’s clear the narrator is familiar with Emily, although he never knew her personally; likely he heard the recounted stories from older relatives.  I find it interesting that he remains anonymous despite his familiarity, as none of the prose betrays a specific connection.  In that light, the narrator is the town’s personification, recounting its history in a semi-omnipotent manner.  He knows much, but like everyone else, he didn’t see the truth behind the window. 

Literature Review | Wolves of the Calla (Dark Tower V)

“Mister, we deal in lead.”  Published in 2003, Wolves of the Calla is the fifth entry in Stephen King’s Dark Tower series, and the first entry in a trilogy that makes up its closing salvo. 

Picking up not long after Wizard & Glass, Roland & company continue along the Path of the Beam, on their way to Thunderclap and beyond.  Near the border, the Ka-tet find themselves in Calla Bryn Sturgis, a farming community similar to the Barony of Mejis.  The Calla beseech the Gunslingers for aid, as once a generation Wolves descend upon them, kidnapping children for their masters in Thunderclap.  A new ally also awaits them:  Callahan, the priest from Salam’ Lot.  While he has recovered somewhat from Barlow’s influence, he now possesses one piece of Maerlyn’s Rainbow, and he fears the dark power it possesses.  Roland agrees to help the Calla and the priest, but the Tet is dealing with their own internal issues, as Susannah is pregnant with a demon baby—brought forth by her actions in The Waste Lands—and her fragile mind has brought forth another personality, Mia, who could birth at any time.  To further complicate matters, The Rose is in danger, and the Tet must find a way to purchase the corner plot, lest it face the plow and the Tower falls.

Roland was inspired by Sergio Leone’s Dollar Trilogy, and King’s love of the genre continues, as Wolves is heavily influence by The Magnificent Seven.  The basic plot is the same, with the action shifted to Mid-world and the Ka-tet replacing McQueen and company.  King’s pop culture references continue with the title Wolves, as their design resembles Marvel’s Dr. Doom—a fact Eddie and Jake muse over—and their wield weapons similar to lightsabers.  Meta to the audience, within the story’s world it is our first hint about what our heroes could expect in Thunderclap; if the Wolves’ masters can make fiction reality, what else can they pull out? 

                Being the first entry that King wrote following his near-fatal van accident, the prose style shifts slightly.  While it pales in comparison to its immediate predecessor and Gunslinger Revised, it is still a page-turner, and I enjoyed it more during this second read through than I did when I read through the series for the first time in 2010.  Amazing how years can advance one's perspective on art.

Like it’s predecessor’s, Wolves expands on Mid-world’s lore.  Not only do we see how gunslingers behave when aiding people cold--but Roland is given an official title:  dinh.  It marks him both as the Tet’s leader and the last of Eld’s original line.  Roland also muses on The Battle of Jericho hill, allowing the audience a deeper glimpse into the White’s final battle and the deaths of his old mates, Alain and Cuthbert.  Without giving specifics away, their ends are fitting, especially given how Roland is when we first meet him.  This entry also introduces Todash, a state of being where one is essentially in between levels of the tower.  While they can’t directly interact with another level, individuals there sense their presence and they can view actions as they progress.  Another nuance is added to the Tower Beams, as it is revealed that the Crimson King is attempting to destroy them with the aid of Breakers, humans with extraordinary psychic abilities.  Not much is revealed about the Breakers, but their existence is connected to the raids.

                Callahan’s introduction while odd felt natural.  His ultimate fate in Salem’s Lot was fitting for his character arc, but compared to the others it felt open-ended.  His new backstory continues off from that ending, explained to the audience in pieces over the course of several chapters.  Not wanting to spoil everything, I’ll keep this brief:  following his confrontation with Barlow, Callahan ended up in New York City.  He made friends but discovered the blood transfer had left him with the ability to spot Vampires, a glow around the head being the giveaway.  He began to kill them, an action that eventually attracted the attention of the Low-men, rat-like servants of the Crimson King first introduced in Hearts in Atlantis. While he evades them for a while, eventually Callahan is cornered and attempts suicide.  Like Jake before him, death transports him into Roland’s world.  While he no longer considers himself a priest, Callahan carries himself as one far better than he did in the Lot, although he does curse on occasion.  His experiences have begun to restore his faith, but I wouldn’t put my money on him being a match for Barlow yet.

                Another bend of Maerlyn’s Rainbow appears, one far more dangerous than the Grapefruit Roland and company encountered.  Dark as a shadow, Black 13 is the last Bend numerically, and the most feared by those who believe the Eld Legends.  Like Pink, it can send one’s mind Todash, although the sensation is much stronger.  It can also open up tears in reality, allowing one to cross between levels of the Tower, into any when and where.  While useful, it is costly, as one must contend with 13’s devious behavior and dark temperament.  Eddie learns this firsthand, and it’s why Callahan wishes to be rid of the Bend.  In a flashback, Randall Flagg handles the Bend in an offhand manner, as if its power were of no concern.  While odd from most perspectives to a servant of the Crimson King—he who “rules” the Dark Tower—it is but a trinket.

                Mia—Mother in the High Speech—is an interesting addition to the series.  The previous two novels hinted that Susannah Dean was pregnant following her tussle with the Speaking Demon, so it becoming a major plot issue wasn’t a surprise.  Susannah’s mental state is another matter.  While some might label it a flaw, it works, especially once Detta Walker's cameos are factored in.  The Drawing healed her, but the original damage remains, and the Demon seed took advantage.  Mia isn’t written deeply, but she didn’t have to be.  She is maternal instinct given form; her motivation and objective is clear.  It’s her existence and its implications that provide drama.

                Jake faces his own conundrum.  Although he has been through much—two deaths and his sanity fracturing—causing him to grow mentally, he is still a child.  As such, he approaches things with a mixed mindset.  We see this contrast play out through his friendship with Benny Slightman the Younger.  While he might be older than Jake, he is still innocent, as Mid-world has yet to jade his mindset.  Jake’s problem arises when he begins to suspect someone in the Calla is a traitor.  While this is important information—especially considering he possesses the Touch—Jake doesn’t wish to get anyone in trouble, in case the information is incorrect.  He also doesn’t wish to go against Roland’s wishes, as it’ll thrust him into his manhood test.

                In addition to the Wolves and his Tet problems, Roland has a physical ailment to deal with, although admittedly it comes out of nowhere.  The Gunslinger is battling arthritis, what he refers to as The Dry Twist.  It’s bad in his right hip, but he dreads the day when it reaches his left hand.  While an out of left field development, it works and heightens the Gunslinger’s dilemma.  Things were grave when the Lobstrocities crippled his dominate hand—although Eddie and Susannah have balanced things out—but if Roland’s off-hand stiffens, he’ll be unable to shoot; a demilitarized Gunslinger.  The expression is old, but Roland is working on borrowed time, heightening the drama and Roland’s need to reach the Tower.

                The Epilogue contains the novel’s largest, most divisive reveal:  the introduction of Stephen King as a character.  That’s right, King placed himself in his Magnum Opus.  While it might seem self-indulgent, it makes sense in a weird way.  There are different planes of existence, one for each level of the tower.  Who’s to say King cannot exist in one—preferably the bottom level.  Plus, a previous entry hinted at King’s existence, as Eddie compared something he saw to a scene from Kubrick’s adaptation of the Shinning.  We still have two novels to traverse through so this element will be expanded upon. 

King dedicated the novel to Frank Muller, the actor who recorded the audiobooks for the first four novels.  King listened to all four during the pre-writing stage, to reacquaint himself with the world and get in the right mindset.  Muller was set to record Wolves’ audiobook too but suffered a tragic motorcycle accident before work began.  King organized a fund for Muller’s medical expenses, donating profits from the audiobook’s sale.  He sadly passed away in 2008.

While not perfect, Wolves of the Calla is a decent addition to the Dark Tower series.  It advances the plot, expands the mythos and sprinkles in the right amount of drama as the endgame nears.  Commala come-ka; The Rose calls, and the Crimson King advances, with the Eld to meet him.