Revival

In the early 1960s, Charlie Jacobs, a charismatic young preacher and amateur electric engineer, arrives in a small Maine town. He befriends the Morton family and acts as a role model to six-year-old Jamie. But when tragedy strikes, Jacobs publicly renounces his faith and leaves. Decades later, Jamie – now a drug-addled musician – reconnects with Jacobs, who has become a carnival performer. Though Jacobs is able to cure Jamie through some rather unconventional means, the latter becomes increasingly worried about where the former’s bitterness and obsession with the unknown will take them.

For an author who can occasionally be accused of self-plagiarism – if not self-parody – Stephen King has shown a surprising amount of inventiveness in his old age. Last year saw the horror icon release both a hardboiled detective novel (Mr. Mercedes) and Revival, which defies easy classification. An ambitious work that spans a half-century, Revival is a welcome change-of-pace that nevertheless falters at the end.

If there is one trick of the trade that King has picked up over the course of the past few years, it is nuance. Much of his work has been dominated by classic – and predictable - good vs. evil conflicts, but recent outings have seen protagonists become more flawed and antagonists more sympathetic. Revival is the culmination of this shift. The opening narration characterizes Jacobs as Jamie’s “nemesis,” but for all of the former’s eventual flaws, he never comes across as completely malevolent. Call it King’s concession to reality: sometimes, those most dangerous are those who act with the best of intentions.

Both the reconfiguration of conflict and the book’s scope suggest a slow read, yet Revival is anything but. King uses the passage to time to advance characterization and string the reader along. As the periodic reunions between Jamie and Jacobs become more and more tense, we find ourselves wondering not only whose way of thinking will prevail, but at what cost to the rest of the world. In between, King peppers his narrative with tragedy. A former drug abuser himself, he is able to depict Jamie hitting rock bottom with squickish verisimilitude. And the event that kick starts Jacobs’ apostasy is presented with gut-punching efficacy.

Given both the narrative build-up and the depth of characterization, the ending – a sharp turn to Lovecraftian horror with a smattering of Frankenstein on top – feels like a cheap cop-out. Not only is it tonally out-of-sync with much of the rest of the book; it also comes across as trite and overly familiar. Even if King’s intended take-away was “don’t mess with what you don’t understand,” that message could certainly have been wrapped in prettier packaging.

Ending woes aside, Revival works as an exploration of human nature and a look at how loss differently shapes us all. This is not King’s best work, but it is among his most mature.

7.75/10