𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟲𝟯𝟲
I was expecting to read all about a huge gun battle, but instead I was treated to some of the most exquisite prose King has ever produced as Susannah was awash with memories of her racial justice days in the 60s and her experiences with the Mississippi Three. It was lyrical, emotional and downright beautiful writing. In my opinion, the best of the series so far.
But today, surely, there will be a battle at the Dixie Pig!
“𝘖𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦,” 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. “𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭.”
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴.
𝘖 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯!
It's the continued poetry of memory, this time Susannah recalling her own mother at Mia's insistent request.
𝘈𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘴. 𝘛𝘰 𝘔𝘪𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘥, 𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢-𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴—𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵
Low men and vampires! What a welcoming committee they encountered as they walked into the Dixie Pig to give birth!
𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘳𝘦—𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘮, 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦-𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭-𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥-𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘺—𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. “𝘏𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘔𝘪𝘢!” 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥.
“𝘏𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘔𝘪𝘢!” 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥.
“𝘏𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳!”
“𝘏𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳!” 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥...
So utterly creepy!
“𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘔𝘳. 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘳𝘦…𝘴𝘢𝘪 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘳𝘦…𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰! 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘥𝘰.”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳,” 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥.
That description of Richard Sayre with the hole in his forehead - so primally disturbing!
𝘚𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴—𝘔𝘪𝘢’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴—𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯.
“𝘓𝘦𝘵’𝘴 𝘨𝘰-𝘰𝘰𝘰-𝘰𝘰𝘰 …𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘉𝘈𝘉𝘠! ” 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦-𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸-𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮.
I pray I live to see Mike Flanagan bring this scene to life in his Dark Tower adaptation!
𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘺, 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘣, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘰𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳…𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬.
OMG!
𝘏𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳! 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥.
𝘜𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳.
I have to end for the day right here. Tomorrow, I finish off the book proper (save for the author's Coda). I don't think I'm going to be getting a big shootout in this book after all.
I am now 91% of the way through Song of Susannah.
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