the shining
1 journaler for this copy...
Journal Entry 1 by SwissShutist from Ostermundigen, Bern / Berne Switzerland on Friday, June 18, 2004
From the cover:
What of the penetrating cold terror of an old hotel, a haunted place of seductive evil with a malevolent will of its own - and a five-year-old boy of innocent beauty whose mind mirrors the nightmarish secrets of its past?
Behind every door of the Overlook's 110 empty rooms there is a chamber of horror. Little Danny knows of these things because he has the terrible power - THE SHINING.
Signet paperback 1978, ISBN 0-451-11967-3
Dt. Titel: Shining
Stephen King, from Playboy interview, June 1983:
In my novella "The Breathing Method" in Different Seasons, I created a mysterious private club in an old brownstone on East 35th Street in Manhattan, in which an oddly matched group of men gathers periodically to trade tales of the uncanny. And there are many rooms upstairs, and when a new guest asks the exact number, the strange old butler tells him, "I don't know, sir, but you could get lost up there." That men's club really is a metaphor for the entire storytelling process. There are as many stories in me as there are rooms in that house, and I can easily loose myself in them. And at the club, whenever a tale is about to be told, a toast is raised first, echoing the words engraved on the keystone of the massive fireplace in the library:
IT IS THE TALE, NOT HE WHO TELLS IT.
That's been a good guide to me in life, and I think it would make a good epitaph for my tombstone. Just that and no name.
What of the penetrating cold terror of an old hotel, a haunted place of seductive evil with a malevolent will of its own - and a five-year-old boy of innocent beauty whose mind mirrors the nightmarish secrets of its past?
Behind every door of the Overlook's 110 empty rooms there is a chamber of horror. Little Danny knows of these things because he has the terrible power - THE SHINING.
Signet paperback 1978, ISBN 0-451-11967-3
Dt. Titel: Shining
Stephen King, from Playboy interview, June 1983:
In my novella "The Breathing Method" in Different Seasons, I created a mysterious private club in an old brownstone on East 35th Street in Manhattan, in which an oddly matched group of men gathers periodically to trade tales of the uncanny. And there are many rooms upstairs, and when a new guest asks the exact number, the strange old butler tells him, "I don't know, sir, but you could get lost up there." That men's club really is a metaphor for the entire storytelling process. There are as many stories in me as there are rooms in that house, and I can easily loose myself in them. And at the club, whenever a tale is about to be told, a toast is raised first, echoing the words engraved on the keystone of the massive fireplace in the library:
IT IS THE TALE, NOT HE WHO TELLS IT.
That's been a good guide to me in life, and I think it would make a good epitaph for my tombstone. Just that and no name.
Journal Entry 2 by SwissShutist at Ostermundigen, Bern / Berne Switzerland on Saturday, April 26, 2014
Wieder gelesen im April 2014.
