Yesterday I began a fantastic journey; not down a yellow brick road or a rabbit hole, but into the festering sewer's beneath Derry Maine. Once again, I'm going to IT's lair.
I've groped through the mucky darkness before. The first time I found IT I was eleven; the same age as the protagonists in the flashback segments. Forty one years separated us, but otherwise we were quite close: I was an asthmatic loner, like Eddie. I liked to see and tell stories like Bill. I was chubby (or so my mother insisted) like Ben. I was into horror like Ritchie. I was Jewish (enough) like Stan. I had trouble connecting with women like Bev. And like Mike I was an outsider for my looks (though getting tape thrown into my curly hair was worlds away from the racist prejudice Mike experienced, of course).
I'd picked up the book (the copy I still own) at a library book sale, intrigued by the cover.
I'd never read a 'grown up' book before, but it was on sale, and my Mom didn't say no. I decided to read it some months later, after a teacher told me I'd scored highest on a reading test, with college level comprehension. How to best display that? By reading the biggest book I owned!
I re-read the book roughly every 2-3 years. This reread isn't just because some time has passed, of course.
Spoilers are past this point, but I'll let you know when it's safe again. Just skip down the page.
I'm not very far in yet: I've had the death of Georgie, and Stan's suicide (my mind always echo's Adult Bill's mental cries of understanding the death, and wishing he'd followed suit upon seeing IT again). I've also covered Ritchie's promise to return, and just begun Ben's binge.
For many years I'd mentally skip over the death of Adrian Mellon at the hands of IT and the homophobic, murderous gang of boys. I don't know what it is, but for some reason I jumped right from Georgie's death to Stan's suicide. Maybe it was the shock of an adult deciding to kill themselves rather than face IT. Maybe it was because the brutal murder was a bit much, and the quiet suicide was easier to digest.
When I convinced my brother in law Grizz to read the book for the first time, I'd forgotten this scene. I still feel bad about not remembering, not warning him. This is one of the few bad memories I have attached to sharing horror with anyone, let alone my favorite book and someone I consider my equal in the love of all things scary.
I apologized at the time, and there's no need to remind him. But when I reread that section yesterday at him home, with his husband and mine enjoying D&D, I remembered.
Real horror, no thanks. Let me dwell in the land of monsters, where my loved ones are separated from death by the impenetrable page.
I'm excited to take this journey again, though this time I'm a lot closer to the age of the adult losers. Thirty nine and forty. No doubt I'll reread again at that age, finally 'caught up' to my childhood icons. I too will marvel at the passage of time, and wonder at what memories have vanished into my crypt.
The difference is I'll know exactly what lurks beneath the surface. When the call comes to return to the sewers, I won't resist.
I've always been a sucker for things going bump in the night.
I've groped through the mucky darkness before. The first time I found IT I was eleven; the same age as the protagonists in the flashback segments. Forty one years separated us, but otherwise we were quite close: I was an asthmatic loner, like Eddie. I liked to see and tell stories like Bill. I was chubby (or so my mother insisted) like Ben. I was into horror like Ritchie. I was Jewish (enough) like Stan. I had trouble connecting with women like Bev. And like Mike I was an outsider for my looks (though getting tape thrown into my curly hair was worlds away from the racist prejudice Mike experienced, of course).
I'd picked up the book (the copy I still own) at a library book sale, intrigued by the cover.
I'd never read a 'grown up' book before, but it was on sale, and my Mom didn't say no. I decided to read it some months later, after a teacher told me I'd scored highest on a reading test, with college level comprehension. How to best display that? By reading the biggest book I owned!
I re-read the book roughly every 2-3 years. This reread isn't just because some time has passed, of course.
Spoilers are past this point, but I'll let you know when it's safe again. Just skip down the page.
SPOILERS.
I'm not very far in yet: I've had the death of Georgie, and Stan's suicide (my mind always echo's Adult Bill's mental cries of understanding the death, and wishing he'd followed suit upon seeing IT again). I've also covered Ritchie's promise to return, and just begun Ben's binge.
For many years I'd mentally skip over the death of Adrian Mellon at the hands of IT and the homophobic, murderous gang of boys. I don't know what it is, but for some reason I jumped right from Georgie's death to Stan's suicide. Maybe it was the shock of an adult deciding to kill themselves rather than face IT. Maybe it was because the brutal murder was a bit much, and the quiet suicide was easier to digest.
When I convinced my brother in law Grizz to read the book for the first time, I'd forgotten this scene. I still feel bad about not remembering, not warning him. This is one of the few bad memories I have attached to sharing horror with anyone, let alone my favorite book and someone I consider my equal in the love of all things scary.
I apologized at the time, and there's no need to remind him. But when I reread that section yesterday at him home, with his husband and mine enjoying D&D, I remembered.
Real horror, no thanks. Let me dwell in the land of monsters, where my loved ones are separated from death by the impenetrable page.
SAFE.
I'm excited to take this journey again, though this time I'm a lot closer to the age of the adult losers. Thirty nine and forty. No doubt I'll reread again at that age, finally 'caught up' to my childhood icons. I too will marvel at the passage of time, and wonder at what memories have vanished into my crypt.
The difference is I'll know exactly what lurks beneath the surface. When the call comes to return to the sewers, I won't resist.
I've always been a sucker for things going bump in the night.
