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A review by inherentlysleepy
Sleeping Beauties by Stephen King, Owen King
4.0
3.5/5 ⭐
The Sleeping Beauties was unnecessarily long. They could have cut to the chase a little faster mostly with the boring stuff (i.e. describing all the materials that made the asphalt rough, or how someone's crooked smile had become by going full-on flashback with this someone's entire Vietnam war history, etc.). It was so unnecessarily long that I went back over a couple of hundred pages to check for a possible huge plot hole. Turns out I overlooked a tiny subplot which was a prerequisite to the part I was reading because there was a lot of stuff going on.
Throughout the first part of the book, as it developed, I had a strong feeling that it was literally Owen's fingers typing on a computer the sentences and word construction came, and not Steve's. Daddy's hands are tired, son. Do the work, I'll get to it later. But on certain occasions, especially on the climax, I'm certain it was Stephen King's words I was reading.
Characters didn't strike me closest as the usual characters created by King himself (although, honestly, I wept for Jeanette Sorley—that shit threw me off—I've come to love her). Most of the time when I read a Stephen King book, I get a sense of realness in them; like they are an actual person I could actually bump into a supermarket. I know there were more than one brain and source of creative juices working—Steve and Owen must have come into one solid decision with characterization—but still. I think I expected more. But who wouldn't?
All the whining aside, overall, I regard Sleeping Beauties as a relevant book with an important message from the father and son duo, which makes it a modern classic tale of our generation. At the end, only Sleeping Beauties could touch my heart like it did. I cannot explain much why because like Evie Black herself: you have to read the book yourself to fully understand what I'm saying.
The Sleeping Beauties was unnecessarily long. They could have cut to the chase a little faster mostly with the boring stuff (i.e. describing all the materials that made the asphalt rough, or how someone's crooked smile had become by going full-on flashback with this someone's entire Vietnam war history, etc.). It was so unnecessarily long that I went back over a couple of hundred pages to check for a possible huge plot hole. Turns out I overlooked a tiny subplot which was a prerequisite to the part I was reading because there was a lot of stuff going on.
Throughout the first part of the book, as it developed, I had a strong feeling that it was literally Owen's fingers typing on a computer the sentences and word construction came, and not Steve's. Daddy's hands are tired, son. Do the work, I'll get to it later. But on certain occasions, especially on the climax, I'm certain it was Stephen King's words I was reading.
Characters didn't strike me closest as the usual characters created by King himself (although, honestly, I wept for Jeanette Sorley—that shit threw me off—I've come to love her). Most of the time when I read a Stephen King book, I get a sense of realness in them; like they are an actual person I could actually bump into a supermarket. I know there were more than one brain and source of creative juices working—Steve and Owen must have come into one solid decision with characterization—but still. I think I expected more. But who wouldn't?
All the whining aside, overall, I regard Sleeping Beauties as a relevant book with an important message from the father and son duo, which makes it a modern classic tale of our generation. At the end, only Sleeping Beauties could touch my heart like it did. I cannot explain much why because like Evie Black herself: you have to read the book yourself to fully understand what I'm saying.