САМО за фенове на Стивън Кинг! - 7 част

Izma, точно както описваш Романът на Лизи, така беше и при мен. В началото бавно, леко досадно, но в един момент те увлича и вече не можеш да я оставиш.

Ох,позамислих се ,ама не мога да се сетя кои бяха Ричи и Бевърли?!А де, пусти акъл!!   

unchita, моля те, когато когато решиш да разказваш някоя книга го право с бутона скрит текст!

Аз не съм чела книгата и не ми е приятно някой да ми я разказва.

    One o the little boys Oboler scared half to death was the postmodern prince of horror, Stephen King, who has called Oboler “the genre’s prime auteur.”  King heard Lights Out reruns in the 1960s on Dimension X, recalling especially Ray Bradbury’s “Mars Is Heaven!”  “I didn’t sleep in my bed that night,” he remembered.  “That night I slept in the doorway, where the real and rational light of the bathroom bulb could shine in my face.  That was the power of radio at its height.”  Oboler, like Hitchcock, loved merging horror and humor into a gross-out giggle.  “Part of Oboler’s real genius was when ‘Chicken Heart’ ended, you felt like laughing and throwing up at the same time.

    Oboler, said King, played on two of radio’s prime strengths: “The mind’s innate obedience, its willingness to try to see whatever someone suggests it see, no matter how absurd; the second is the fact that fear and horror and blinding emotions that knock our adult pins from beneath us and leave us groping in the dark like children who cannot find the light switch.  Radio is, of course, the ‘blind’ medium, and only Oboler used it so well or so completely.”  In radio, King obsverved, we never saw the zipper running down the monster’s back.

    On TV, King said, The Shadow and Inner Sanctum over described scenes, whereas Oboler relied on speech, sound, and silence to achieve his effects.  He can’t forget the gruesome, “A Day at the Dentist,” in which a dentist extracts revenge from a patient who, years earlier ruined the dentists’s wife when she was a young girl.  With the patient strapped in his chair, the dentist drills a hole in him (“to let out some of lover-boy”), but the audience is left to guess where – his brain?  Heart?  Genitals?  The lone sound of a burrowing drill left listeners very much in the dark indeed.  Iing singles out radio’s ability to unlock the door of evil without “letting the monster out,” as movies or TV or theater would be forced to, because our eyes demand to know what’s behind the door; our ears leave the solution tantalizingly, and horrifyingly, up in the air.  Yet in the hands of a master radio storyteller like Oboler, we don’t feel heated.  We feel challenged. . . and chilled.

    The author of The Shining, Carrie, and Misery remembers how, when Inner Sanctum left radio for TV, it finally made the creeding door visible, “And visible, it certainly was horrible enough – slightly askew, festooned with cobwebs – but it was something of a relief, just the same.  Nothing could have looked as horrible as that door sounded. . .