"Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: the magic exists" -Stephen King


Everyone likes a thing that glitters. When a thing is lovely, you may be hard pressed to find a soul anywhere who would not feel its allure.
Yes, everyone likes a pretty story.
If only "pretty" didn't sour so quickly.
It's true that reality is horror-filled enough. And in it one never finds themselves at a loss for that which makes your skin crawl for very long. But that's where horror novels step in.
In writing such as this, you find an escape for that which terrifies you, by diving into a whole new terror. Or rather, several whole new terrors, as in this case.
Stephen King isn't a name you would read if you were looking for an obscure, needle-in-a-haystack, diamond-in-the-rough, kind of novel. You know his name, and this book is probably the reason you do.

It took me a lot longer than I expected to read IT. I say that only because Stephen King does have a gripping writing style, and the fact I was hooked immediately, gave every indication that I would be finishing close to only a week after starting. However, to my happy surprise, I found that this book developed into so much more than just something to give me goosebumps in the middle of the night. This became one of those books you read slowly just for the sake of it lasting longer. Something you find yourself marking whether or not that is something you do. It became-- as every good book should-- an experience.
Horror writing is a precarious profession. It is not a taste many will take voluntarily on their tongue. However, the way I see it, horror writing is that which offends us. It is that which pokes into our conscious long after we have stopped reading. Yes, it scares us. But it's the thing that scares us most that makes us aware. I do not mean to be a spokesperson for the genre, all I mean to say is that life is too short to be too comfortable all the time. What is this world if it does not seem impossible, and maybe a bit frightening, every now and then?

Anyway, if you have not already moved on from my tedious rambles, I'll get back to talking about the book now. Immediately I favored the way in which it was unique. The horrors were fresh, that which cackled and moaned into the night was deliciously clever, and yet the original setup was so simple that it was comfortable and classic. In a way, it reminds me a bit of the Netflix series "Stranger Things". A group of misfit children facing an evil far greater than anything any adult could believe: a setup anyone could sink their teeth into. However, as the story goes on, the thing adapts itself like a monster in the elements.
Stephen King has based this work of fiction on that which we find so repelling we know it cannot be possible, but that part of the book which causes us to truly recoil in shock and fear are the parts we, in some very real way, are only too familiar with.
This causes an almost spiritual blur between realities. Worlds colliding, if you will.

It's difficult, honestly, to quite explain what lies beneath the cover of this novel. It seems to have plucked every string wound into the bindings of the universe, and sewn itself together of it's own accord. Beginning with childhood, when the mystics are far closer than they will ever be in a person's life, and tying that in with the realities of adulthood, when colors just sort of fade into only black and only white.
You will have to forgive me if I have made it seem a bit complex, it is only my nature when wonders are still so fresh in my head. To put it simply: Here is the place where fears we never knew we had are found, here is a place where bravery is vital, and cowardice is a downfall. Here questions arise, minds are perhaps even stretched a little further. I encourage you to come, and step inside, for here all is brought together
by the words of a great author.