“Whatever happened to that kid from The Shining?” Well, it turns out that quite a bit. Danny Torrance kept his shine, picked up a genetic drinking problem, and kicked around through life doing a generally terrible job of things until he got mixed firmly into the plot of another book. Which I guess I mean a couple of ways. One is almost literally as written above, that he probably would have faded into miserable obscurity if a new story hadn’t happened[1]. And one is that, well, you could have easily told the core of this particular tale without him. He’s not precisely grafted onto it, and moreso because the Constant Author assures me it started with him, but it would only take a little unraveling to make it a brand new book with brand new characters.[3]

Anyway, because the collective of foes Doctor Sleep presents us with are so very cool and creepy, I’m not going to say any more about the plot than I have, but I owe a rundown of the book’s structural flaws, mainly because they are pretty big flaws. They did not interrupt the mood of the book one bit, and make no mistake, this is a book that, much like The Shining before it, is primarily concerned with mood. But from a plot perspective, they are really quite troubling. And…. being from a plot perspective, they are chock full of the spoilers I just promised not to provide, so continue at your peril! (The footnotes remain spoiler-free.)

First thing is, the first antagonist character introduced, through whose eyes we are introduced to that chick on the cover and everyone else associated with her, is immediately relegated to background status for the rest of the book. She feels like nothing so much as Chekhov’s unfired gun. And second thing is, a major turn in the story, regarding measles? It is entirely impossible for me to believe that it wouldn’t have happened years or decades (in a way, especially decades and very especially centuries) sooner than it did happen. And, okay, both of these are really big spoilers for the plot, but since they are evidence that the plot is somewhat broken, I’m not sure how to handle that. Probably a cut of some kind? (Yep, it was a cut!)

Anyway, though, just to be clear: I enjoyed the book quite a bit despite these flaws, as the plot wasn’t really the point. (Maybe it would have been if it hadn’t been quite so holey?) It was a little scary, a lot creepy, an interesting redefinition of psychic phenomena in King’s bibliography (as I’ve already said once), and extremely sweet any number of times. After all, one of the things The Shining was about, however warpedly, was family. And family you choose? It still counts.

[1] There’s a point to that, and I’m kind of struggling to reach it, about what happens to characters when they are put away. Some of them live happily ever after until a story makes their lives worse, and some live miserably ever after until a story gives them a shot at redemption, and some are left on their tracks without a new story ever to come along, and some, I’m sure, get right back into living a normal life without an obviously set trajectory[2]. Okay, this makes sense to me so far, but I haven’t actually reached the point yet. I don’t think it’s about the quantum state of characters who have not yet been re-used. It’s more psychological than that. You have to collapse the wave to get to it, of course; while they’re static, they don’t really have emotions and reactions, and on top of it they don’t know that they’re fictional in the first place, but if they could see themselves from outside the fourth wall, would they be glad? Resentful? Would they wish they’d been left alone? I mean, to bring this ridiculous footnote back around to the topic at hand, little five-year-old Danny Torrance could never have predicted he’d become an alcoholic, even though it’s woefully obvious the moment you sit down to really think about it. On top of the genetics, there’s the life-shaping horror of your father trying to kill you and being haunted by all those evil, mouldering ghosts. Something’s gonna give. Sure, shot at redemption, but remember, when he was frozen in time at the age of five, his future hadn’t been written yet. Nothing to redeem. Would he wish he’d been left alone? In all sincerity, this is a thing I wonder. There’s probably a story in that somewhere, and there’s at least a chance that neither Neil Gaiman nor Mike Carey has already written it.
[2] Probably these ones are less likely to find themselves in a sequel?
[3] As it happens, I’m glad it’s a sequel, because it neatly ties every other childhood psychic phenomenon book in King’s arsenal into the same world, with the same causes and effects, in a way that would not have been certain if Doctor Sleep were a standalone novel.