Thank you, Mr. King

THIS WEEK’S WINNER

Deanna Kathrina Z. Maranion is a pediatric physical therapist practicing in Manila and Batangas. She works for a foundation for children with special needs in Cebu. She was an instructor at UP Manila and took courses on the assessment and treatment of cerebral palsy at the Bobath Children’s Hospital in South Korea.

A few weeks ago, I felt like open-

ing a book by Stephen King (I

haven’t in a longish while).

Most of the volumes I have, all of which I have read at least once, average 400 pages long. I didn’t feel like committing fully, so I chose a collection of short stories.

The introduction entitled “Myth, Belief, Faith, and Ripley’s Believe It Or Not!” was written in Bangor, Maine, where he lives with his family. He said he was deeply and unreservedly credulous as a child and he shared the irrational fears that became seeds of his future bestsellers. He also detailed some leaps of faith that saw him through the writing of the stories in the book. It was the familiar and conversational introduction that CRs (Constant Readers) have become used to — I am, of course, part of this group as I have been reading King’s stories since I was in my teens. He said thanks to me, his Constant Reader, and hoped that I would again “believe as he believed, at least for a while.” 

And so, I read and gamely chanted in my head: “I believe a dime can derail a freight train…I believe that you can tear off someone’s shadow with a steel peg…I believe there is an unseen world all around us…” And halfway through that catechism which he asked me to repeat I had to stop, for I was suddenly overcome with a pang of loss. I have become too worrisome and I have deadened my sense of wonder with the grown-up things I have to do. I have let my disappointments drown the respite that I get from reading (and writing) fiction. I have not been at my best (to put it lightly) for three years now. I have chosen not to believe in many things including the magic that comes from reading an imagined piece of work. And what friendly counsel, travel and walking around, and stretching with regulated breathing could not do for me his words did, just like many times before. I was again remembering that I used to be someone whose creativity was enough to overcome any woe — real or imagined.

Believe it or not, I opened a volume of horror stories and found a new hope for myself instead. And by the end of “Dolan’s Cadillac” I’ve decided to start writing again. And this thank you note is in first order. I’ve been putting off saying “Thankee, Sai King” and rather than send fan maiI I guess this is the best way to do it.

I am a student of science. I take a break from the geekiness of my profession by reading the macabre and the supernatural. Science fiction and fantasy are also a great escape. (Lately, I’ve mostly taken a break viewing shows that are supernatural or fantastic. I enjoy these diversions, some of which are very stimulating. I would sit for hours viewing one show after another. To others reading and watching may be the same but the latter doesn’t require much imagination.)

When I was in my twenties I had more erudite ideas of a “break”: reading Eco, Kafka, Garcia-Marquez, Steinbeck, Tolkien, etc. And because he was a master of his genre I was also reading Stephen King, despite the pulp and often gory packaging of his paperbacks. I’ve always required a certain level of complexity in my reading material and the richness of characterization and plot in his work appealed to me, not to mention his quite extensive vocabulary. Yes, he was right up there in my top five but not because of his effulgence and his craft. I got something from reading him that I didn’t get from my other, more scholarly favorites. This may seem strange, but he is always a timely read. I would read a new book I’ve just bought, or open something I just felt like reading through again, and there would be a line, or a scene, an image or well… a chant that would be just what I needed. Stephen King has helped me resolve many a kink in my head, in my heart, in my soul with The Stand, The Gunslinger, Thinner, Danse Macabre, among others. No other author has done as deeply, as constantly, and as strangely.

“The most important things are the hardest things to say.” Stephen King said so through a character in his novella, “The Body,” which was made into the film Stand By Me. The reason why I am writing about King here is a very important and consequently a very difficult thing, but I will try to say it here anyway, otherwise, what will be the point in writing this at all? You have to know one more thing about me.

Much like everyone on the planet, I try to be a good person. I do my work the best way I know how. I adapt as I should to live harmoniously with my family, my friends, my co-workers, and I even have an open consciousness to the harmony I keep with the flora, the fauna, this fragile earth, and the cosmos. This, what others call “artistic sensibility,” which I just consider something weird about me, gives me a profound meta-awareness of my deeds and the consequences of my actions. For the past three years I have been careless, reckless, mediocre, and the harmony I used to keep is largely unkempt. And after so many sincere attempts I haven’t been encouraged to change and move forward, that is, until I found that I could again believe.

In better times, when I have done something disappointing, I would pray for forgiveness, write uplifting prose, and make up for the upset by doing something creative (literary, musical or visually artful). And when I am sinking into hopelessness from my own mistakes or the failure of others (I have a very sensitive hope-meter), I would pray for renewal, write depressing prose, and read “Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption,” a novella in Stephen King’s Different Seasons.

It’s the story of a man who tunnels his way out of prison after 27 years of excavation of prison walls using a rock hammer. It is also about faith, friendship, belief, kindness. My story of hope has turned me around many times in the past. Stephen King’s achievement is not making it to the bestseller list every time. It’s touching people like me with such force that changes lives for the better. I’m reading this story again and I once again believe that things will surely come around.