It by Stephen King – Review

The most important things are hardest to say, because words reduce them …

Some time ago, wise bald (or white) heads, housed in various universities, agreed that the literary form, commonly known as Roman, is dead – fewer and fewer works of any meaning are written every year. Of course, one needs to understand the requirements that wise gentlemen expect from a worthwhile novel: it would be nice if the writer included some “aesthetic dignity”, including as many allusions and connections with other previous works of literature — consciously, that is. The language must also be exquisite; it is advisable to pester and as incomprehensible as possible, relying on earlier decent work and including metaphors and allusions to them. If the author accidentally includes the plot in his work, there is a good percentage of the likelihood that his work will be deemed unworthy and adacemia forever excluded.
Or at least these wise gentlemen are alive.
Of course, the reader should not understand, let alone enjoy the work of Worth – no one reads anymore, the wise men would say; people read trash like Danielle Steel when Bold & Beautiful is not on TV. And, by God, no such novel can be popular – after all, the level of intelligence necessary for its assessment does not seem to satisfy 90% of the world’s population.
A literary worker who is as popular and appreciated as the Beatles? Whose works admire thousands of people? And the possibility that these people can learn something? It is simply impossible, wise heads mutter in unison, it is simply impossible! Ask people who know!
Ask us!

History, as we know it, has an unpleasant habit of repeating itself – although in this case something good can come out of it. Writers have previously been criticized – especially by Twain and Dickens – and yet their works are still read and loved by entire generations of readers. Their fiction is taught in schools. Huckleberry Finn was considered vulgar and impenetrable, many of Dickens’s works were described as frankly sentimental, but he prevailed – which cannot be said of those who were engaged in being so-called “arbitrators of literature.” In the end, they could not grind knives, because they did not belong to them.
The bones of those who tried to define “literature” died; the works they so often tried to exorcise did not perish. No one remembers (and cares for) those who tried to defy the power of Twain or Dickens; they are immortal thanks to their works.
People are dying, no books. No one cares about the boyish club of writers who shout words of rage from an ivory tower, instead of helping people to understand the joy of reading, understanding and faith. The problem is that not many educated people understand that even simple things can cause strong emotions. But they too will go down in history, leaving no trace on it, forgotten and lonely; and I believe that there will be many bodies rolling over in graves when some of the names are included in the school curriculum.

“It by Stephen King” is definitely not a simple novel. Classifying it as a “horrible” story is the same as saying that “Moby Dick” is a very long guide to whaling. To say that the whole thing is in Monster is to say that the whale is the villain of the play.

We all start with a knowledge of magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest
lights and comets inside us. We are born capable of singing to birds, reading clouds and seeing our destiny in the grains of sand. But then we get a magical education right from our souls. We church him, slap, wash and comb. We are put on a straight and narrow line and they say that we are responsible. Said to act at our age. She was told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why they told us that? Because the people who spoke were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad that they allowed themselves to fade.
-Robert McCammon It by Stephen King

Despite vulnerability and physical weakness, two factors that make them ideal victims, children have the power that most adults lost in the painful process of growing up – the power of imagination. A child feels and experiences emotions much more intensively than an adult, but their unique creative abilities allow him to cope with the seemingly impracticable much more effectively. Therefore, when an adult encounters a vampire in Salem’s lot, he falls dead from a heart attack. When a child encounters him, he may fall asleep in ten minutes. As King put it, “such is the difference between men and boys.”

The king portrayed children throughout his career, and his children’s characters later became older, along with his own children. “This”, in my opinion, is his best love affair with children’s characters; its most difficult, difficult. It is also one of its longes

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