I sort of hesitated over bringing this up on my very first post here, lest anyone draw the unwarranted inference that it's a slam on my favorite fiction writer, and...
I'm almost sure that this must have been brought up before on a message board of number-one fans, but I can't find it with the search function, so, here goes...
I don't have a copy of the book at present (moved around a lot recently, lost it), so I can't reference the page number, but I'm sure anyone with a copy handy can find it from what I hope will be a decent description based on a fairly accurate recall from the (at least) four or five times I have read it. In the scene where the Losers' Club has their re-union in the Chinese restaurant, Bill Denbrough (I think- could have been one of the others) is ruminating over what he remembers as (paraphrased, so disregard the quote marks except as a way of emphasis) "the horrible death of Patrick Humbolt (or Humboldt)." I've always presumed that this reference was to Patrick Hockstetter, and Unca Steve just had a minor slip (not a fall). I'm wondering if anyone else who noticed this has a different take on it?
Of course, the whole thing could be an error in recall on my part (I remember being for years convinced, for some reason, that the actresses who played the Robinson sisters in Lost In Space were actually real-life sisters, when, of course, they weren't). And, again, this is not a slam on Unca Steve. I'm actually fairly convinced that, once his writing is seen in a more historical context than the contemporary "pop-writing" perception, say, in fifty years or so, it will be recognized and assessed at its true value. I find a lot of elegance in his use of language (for example, in 11-22-63, he refers to a 2011 dime, in contrast to older ones, as "a penny with pretensions"- now that's elegant, and maybe not a bad metaphor for Oswald). I also think his stories are much less superficial than the popular perception of them would lead you to believe- for example, Hearts In Atlantis, one of my top five by him, really spoke to me, resonated, in a way few other books on that era have, maybe because I'm (approximately) of that generation, and fiction seems a better medium for harmonics than the non-fiction I usually confine myself to.
Sorry, got off of my own topic. Is my recall off? If not, does anyone have a different take on it? Does it matter (I can answer that one- no, I'm nitpicking big time, but I don't have anything better to do at the moment)? All comments, including bashing, welcome.




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