What if your cat gets killed in the road, and you decide to bury it in an old and Indian (Native American if you’re so inclined) burial ground. What if it returns the next day, almost brand spanking new but totally different just the same? What if it wasn’t your cat, but your kid?
That’s what Pet Sematary pretty much boils down to.
Books don’t easily scare the bejeebus out of me, and this one was no exception. The most frightening part about this book is how Stephen King can create such likable characters, and then throw so much shit at them. That’s evil, dude.
There were quite a few novels by King which I didn’t hold in high regard which turned out to be anything ranging from quite alright to pretty damn fine: Tommyknockers, Cujo, Firestarter, The Dark Half … Pet Sematary. I don’t know where I got those crazy idea’s from, but come to think of it, I can’t recall any book by King I really didn’t like. Sure, some left me quite indifferent (The Girl who Loved Tom Gordon, Cycle of the Werewolf) but even the ones I had to fight my way through (Lisey’s Story) had their good bits. Good on me for still having a couple left to read.
- Book read
- Stephen King — Pet Sematary
- First line
- Louis Creed, who had lost his father at three and who had never known a grandfather, never expected to find a father as he entered his middle age, but that was exactly what happened … although he called this man a friend, as a grown man must do when he finds the man who should have been his father relatively late in life.