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Harold and Nadine
Jan. 30th, 2006 04:12 pmI've been tossing something around in my mind for quite a few days now. As anyone who reads my journal on a regular basis already knows, I'm currently rereading Stephen King's The Stand for the first time since I was 12 years old. I'm 38 now, and I'm responding to the book in different ways from the first time I read it. Age and experience are definitely a plus when it comes to understanding what one is reading.
Now, I've always had an affinity for Nadine. Her mysterious connection to Randall Flagg, knowing that she belonged to him and was destined to be his bride, struck a chord in me. Looking back on how my life turned out, I understand now that I am Nadine up to a certain point. I was a virgin until age 30, but it was no Dark Man who took that in the desert. The part where I was like Nadine, though, is that I was absolutely saving myself for a certain individual. From the age of 19 to the age of 30, I remained "intact." And it was someone very much like Larry Underwood who broke that spell enough to allow me to relinquish my virginity.
Even now, though, I still feel like I'm destined to go somewhere and do something greater than myself or my self-perception. I even have a Randall Flagg of sorts in my life, though I'm certain our relationship will never be sexual. Nevertheless, I am an acolyte of his and he affects me in much the same way that Randall Flagg affects Nadine: that inexorable pull combined with the undeniable fright.
Though I'm no beauty, I think I resemble Nadine in certain ways as well. I have the long dark hair and am now getting snow white hair intermixed with that. My voice is a little on the low side and can be husky at times. My eyes are my most striking feature. And I've noticed how some women kind of get possessive and protective of their men when I'm around, like I would ever presume to edge in on anyone or like any of these men would ever want me to begin with. But I must send off a vibe that threatens them on some level. I don't understand it.
My motivations are my own.
So it begs the question: did I pattern myself after Nadine on a subconscious level or did I just naturally grow into that particular King archetype? I'll probably never know because I'm probably reading more into it than there actually is.
But there's more.
I also see Harold Lauder in myself. There's a part in the book that talks about Harold being unable to release the past and is therefore trapped in the world wherein he was teased and tormented by other school kids and even family. This prevents his being able to become a true part of the Free Zone and paves the way to damnation for him, as he plots his revenge and his subsequent escape to Las Vegas. Despite his changes, Harold remains static in his mind, forever the fat, pimple-faced nerd, the outcast, the resentful child whose potential was wasted on deaf ears.
I'm the same way. I go into every social situation assuming that I will be laughed at or shut out. My disdain for humanity as a whole stems from the cruelty I endured in school. I can't seem to pull myself out of the abyss of my mistrust and suspicion of my fellow human, nor can I accept the notion that I have anything of worth to offer (and if I did, someone else would get the credit).
I guess this means I'm destined for Las Vegas if a superflu ever hits Earth. No sweet old black lady for me. I'm doomed.
Now, I've always had an affinity for Nadine. Her mysterious connection to Randall Flagg, knowing that she belonged to him and was destined to be his bride, struck a chord in me. Looking back on how my life turned out, I understand now that I am Nadine up to a certain point. I was a virgin until age 30, but it was no Dark Man who took that in the desert. The part where I was like Nadine, though, is that I was absolutely saving myself for a certain individual. From the age of 19 to the age of 30, I remained "intact." And it was someone very much like Larry Underwood who broke that spell enough to allow me to relinquish my virginity.
Even now, though, I still feel like I'm destined to go somewhere and do something greater than myself or my self-perception. I even have a Randall Flagg of sorts in my life, though I'm certain our relationship will never be sexual. Nevertheless, I am an acolyte of his and he affects me in much the same way that Randall Flagg affects Nadine: that inexorable pull combined with the undeniable fright.
Though I'm no beauty, I think I resemble Nadine in certain ways as well. I have the long dark hair and am now getting snow white hair intermixed with that. My voice is a little on the low side and can be husky at times. My eyes are my most striking feature. And I've noticed how some women kind of get possessive and protective of their men when I'm around, like I would ever presume to edge in on anyone or like any of these men would ever want me to begin with. But I must send off a vibe that threatens them on some level. I don't understand it.
My motivations are my own.
So it begs the question: did I pattern myself after Nadine on a subconscious level or did I just naturally grow into that particular King archetype? I'll probably never know because I'm probably reading more into it than there actually is.
But there's more.
I also see Harold Lauder in myself. There's a part in the book that talks about Harold being unable to release the past and is therefore trapped in the world wherein he was teased and tormented by other school kids and even family. This prevents his being able to become a true part of the Free Zone and paves the way to damnation for him, as he plots his revenge and his subsequent escape to Las Vegas. Despite his changes, Harold remains static in his mind, forever the fat, pimple-faced nerd, the outcast, the resentful child whose potential was wasted on deaf ears.
I'm the same way. I go into every social situation assuming that I will be laughed at or shut out. My disdain for humanity as a whole stems from the cruelty I endured in school. I can't seem to pull myself out of the abyss of my mistrust and suspicion of my fellow human, nor can I accept the notion that I have anything of worth to offer (and if I did, someone else would get the credit).
I guess this means I'm destined for Las Vegas if a superflu ever hits Earth. No sweet old black lady for me. I'm doomed.
