It does OK.

There are some excellent passages on the relationship of the old with the young, and curiosity, and trying to find meaning to things that have no answers. And eldritch horror galore.

Not one of those "Help me, I can't stop reading" page-turners that sometimes King pops on you, though.

A weaker read for me than his other short-story collections on the whole. N. is spectacular, though.

Willa: OK, sentimental ghost story

The Gingerbread Girl: Good thriller

Harvey's Dream: Now we are talking. For extra kick, which one?

Rest Stop: Awesomesauce!

Stationary Bike: If not writing, then images. And addictions. I love how he has his "go to" obsessive mind-itches that he always comes back to write about.

The things they left behind: I liked bits and pieces *shrug* I tend to avoid lit on the topic

Graduation Afternoon: Vignette building for that last snapshot. Meh

N. : This one was freaky scary. Likely because we all are little OCD. Best one in the book.

The Cat from Hell: Liked this one, and that gruesome end!

The New York Times at special bargain rates: Liked the idea. Sweet and sad.

Mute: I found this one funny in a bewildering way.

Ayana: People passing it on. A lovely concept. 

A very tight place: It was good. And gross (so very gross). And good.

Second volume of this saga is sooo much better. Better than the first volume and better on second read.

Better than the first because it felt more grounded somehow. Despite the whole "magic doorway" thing, it was way less surreal than "The Gunslinger". The writing was more rounded too, and I connected better with the characters.

Better on second read because there was a dimension of meaning and character growth I could not appreciate first time around (having read it as a stand-alone), and because I'm older, and no matter how mature you think you are, there is a lot you can't really understand when you are a teen.

Despite remembering almost everything, I was not bored. At all. I actually sped through 3/4 of it before my brain revolted clamoring for sleep. That's a "good stuff" stamp, if there is ever one.

I'm full on board of this train now, and will be reading the next install soon.

Defiantly funny in the face of total devastation, but more than that, ever hopeful. I guess that last is the best part of strong faith. The important part. Inner piece and enduring hope.

Here's the deal: I'm an agnostic. We get roasted inside *grin*. I could go a long while about the difference between religion and spirituality, between faith in god and the faith in the future that makes you stubbornly plod forward. I wont. My mom says "there are no atheist in the trenches". I have no idea what an ordeal like this would do to me.

But here is the other side, the thing about being an agnostic: I can accept both stories. I can love and believe in the tiger, and I can forgive the killer boy. The tiger is the better story, but to me, disregarding the second feels like hiding from a horrible truth too hard to accept. Just as disregarding the tiger feels like the cruelty of denying absolution, or the company of hope.

Good book. The movie did it amazing justice, tight and beautiful and with lovely, memorable music, so I highly recommend it.

I've rediscovered urban fantasy. This is the urban fantasy I was wanting to read when I kept stumbling into that ossified  sub-genre full of vampires and weres. I love me some Hollows or Daniels like I love my fries and ice-cream, but every once in a while I want a different flavor, and it's been hard to find. Behold: Gaiman. I wonder if the man seats at his writing desk and thinks "Well, today I want to pick this genre. Now, how do I go about putting it on it's head/inside out/mashed-up with this other?"

So, urban fantasy about alienation, and tubes, filled with magic and action. Scary stuff of the adult bored with life variety. The unseen people that fell through the cracks... there is horror that feels close to home hinted in the concept. You may disregard it as cynical allegoric analysis. It comes to full fruition and in the open during the ordeal to sock you in the face: "this is what you were thinking was going on, even if you didn't want to admit it". The fantastic aspect makes it exiting and hopeful, and bittersweet.

Maybe not as happy, or a fluffy as I was going for, but it certainly was a change of speeds. I could not believe how much it was packing by the half-way point! Certainly a much needed contrast after Moby-Dick.

I loved it. It was a damned good book, and I want a hard-copy of my own.