Brown the Border Dweller has a pet raven named Zoltan. Zoltan, by the way, was the name of a fortune-telling arcade game popularized in the early seventies and I'm pretty sure it is the official name (or part of a name) for a certain type of bird.
I mention Zoltan for several reasons. First, of course, is that anyone who has read King's The Stand should theoretically be getting a not-so-friendly feeling about Old Zoltan. Of course, anyone who's read Edgar Allan Poe's poem "The Raven" might well be getting the same feeling. The fact that Brown tried to teach "The Lord's Prayer" to the bird but he eschewed it in lieu of a little ditty about beans being the musical fruit is possibly also noteworthy.
Then there's the thing with the fortune teller. I'm not saying that King meant for this desert raven to be able to see the future, but ... okay, maybe I am saying that, a little. Zoltan says to Roland, for example, "Screw you and the horse you rode in on" ... and, when Roland awoke from a short nap, he found that his mule had died and the bird was literally eating its eyes.
Finally, there's the noise Zoltan makes while walking on the roof when Brown and the gunslinger are preparing their meal. The noise? Words that should be familiar to anyone who's read The Regulators (King as Richard Bachman) and/or Desperation: "Tak-tak-tak."
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Danger in a Well
Roland comes upon a saner-than-most border dweller named Brown who lives alone except for his pet raven, Zoltan.
The gunslinger is thirsty, lonely, and his mule is nearly dead. Brown (who I always find myself suspicious of because of his red hair--when that color comes up in King's books, I steel myself ... even if I've read it a ridiculous number of times) explains that he's happy to share his corn, but Roland will have to contribute something for the beans, which are rarer as Brown has to get them from someone else. When Brown goes off to prepare dinner, he suggests that Roland fill his waterskins from his well.
As Roland is in the process of replenishing his water supply, he is shocked when Zoltan squawks, "Screw you and the horse you rode in on." At the sound of the raven's voice, Roland is suddenly aware of how easy it would be for Brown to throw a rock down the well, killing or seriously injuring the gunslinger.
Death in a well is a revisit of sorts. King used this image effectively in his novel Dolores Claiborne, where a woman backed into a corner by her manipulative child-molester of a husband gives him the only justice she can--a rock to the head.
Although this is momentarily reminiscent of a very different novel, Brown does not attack Roland as he's filling his waterskins, and the gunslinger pushes the idea out of his mind with the old adage, "There will be water if God wills it."
The gunslinger is thirsty, lonely, and his mule is nearly dead. Brown (who I always find myself suspicious of because of his red hair--when that color comes up in King's books, I steel myself ... even if I've read it a ridiculous number of times) explains that he's happy to share his corn, but Roland will have to contribute something for the beans, which are rarer as Brown has to get them from someone else. When Brown goes off to prepare dinner, he suggests that Roland fill his waterskins from his well.
As Roland is in the process of replenishing his water supply, he is shocked when Zoltan squawks, "Screw you and the horse you rode in on." At the sound of the raven's voice, Roland is suddenly aware of how easy it would be for Brown to throw a rock down the well, killing or seriously injuring the gunslinger.
Death in a well is a revisit of sorts. King used this image effectively in his novel Dolores Claiborne, where a woman backed into a corner by her manipulative child-molester of a husband gives him the only justice she can--a rock to the head.Although this is momentarily reminiscent of a very different novel, Brown does not attack Roland as he's filling his waterskins, and the gunslinger pushes the idea out of his mind with the old adage, "There will be water if God wills it."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Lepers and Madmen
As Roland moves along, he encounters many among the border dwellers. An increasing number of them live alone and fall into two categories--lepers or madmen. Roland claims to find the madmen better company.
One, for example, gave him a Silva compass and asked him to pass it along to the Man Jesus. Although Roland doesn't expect to see the Man Jesus, either in his travels or anywhere, he takes the compass fully intending to do as the madman requested should the opportunity present itself. The fact that our gunslinger is given a compass is an interesting irony, of course, and I'm insanely curious as to whether or not the compass even works.
I'm even more intrigued by the presence of lepers.
Leprosy is part of recorded history since 600 BC. It's a progressive disease where skin lesions cause serious damage to a person's body. Leprosy was treatable on a limited basis as early as the 1930s and has been effectively curable since the early eighties. That leprosy still exists in Roland's world demonstrates that either his location mirrors that of a third world country, where a disease like leprosy is still a problem more than twenty years after it ceased to be an issue in "civilized" nations, or that the disease was never cured in Roland's when.
It's impossible not to notice the Biblical allusions that show up throughout The Dark Tower. The idea of lepers living alone and forgotten is more than reminiscent of the Bible. It's more than a coincidence. It's yet another hint that this tremendous work is more Biblical in nature than most people would believe.
One, for example, gave him a Silva compass and asked him to pass it along to the Man Jesus. Although Roland doesn't expect to see the Man Jesus, either in his travels or anywhere, he takes the compass fully intending to do as the madman requested should the opportunity present itself. The fact that our gunslinger is given a compass is an interesting irony, of course, and I'm insanely curious as to whether or not the compass even works.
I'm even more intrigued by the presence of lepers.
Leprosy is part of recorded history since 600 BC. It's a progressive disease where skin lesions cause serious damage to a person's body. Leprosy was treatable on a limited basis as early as the 1930s and has been effectively curable since the early eighties. That leprosy still exists in Roland's world demonstrates that either his location mirrors that of a third world country, where a disease like leprosy is still a problem more than twenty years after it ceased to be an issue in "civilized" nations, or that the disease was never cured in Roland's when.
It's impossible not to notice the Biblical allusions that show up throughout The Dark Tower. The idea of lepers living alone and forgotten is more than reminiscent of the Bible. It's more than a coincidence. It's yet another hint that this tremendous work is more Biblical in nature than most people would believe.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Remnants of Childhood
There is a curious duplicity to Roland.
On the one hand, he is a gunslinger, a trained killer, a man in every sense of the word. On the other, he is reminded of (or perhaps even haunted by) memories of his childhood. There is a little boy inside of Roland, a child that the reader is reminded of most often through snippets of rhyme.
For example, "Spark-a-dark, where's my sire? Will I lay me? Will I stay me? Bless this camp with fire" is spoken over a spark that will hopefully lead to an efficient campfire.
Even as he speaks this little blessing, Roland muses on how odd it is that some of childhood's traditions and memories fall by the wayside, yet others remain a steadfast part of the adult a child becomes. He further notes that these carryovers from childhood grow "the heavier to carry" as time goes on.
Roland's childhood (and coming-of-age, so to speak) is obviously a major part of his character and of the series in general. What happens between the days when he could still be considered a boy and the current events in The Gunslinger is a growing chasm. I understand it now, of course, but I never noticed before how many little clues about Roland's childhood are interspersed throughout.
On the one hand, he is a gunslinger, a trained killer, a man in every sense of the word. On the other, he is reminded of (or perhaps even haunted by) memories of his childhood. There is a little boy inside of Roland, a child that the reader is reminded of most often through snippets of rhyme.
For example, "Spark-a-dark, where's my sire? Will I lay me? Will I stay me? Bless this camp with fire" is spoken over a spark that will hopefully lead to an efficient campfire.
Even as he speaks this little blessing, Roland muses on how odd it is that some of childhood's traditions and memories fall by the wayside, yet others remain a steadfast part of the adult a child becomes. He further notes that these carryovers from childhood grow "the heavier to carry" as time goes on.
Roland's childhood (and coming-of-age, so to speak) is obviously a major part of his character and of the series in general. What happens between the days when he could still be considered a boy and the current events in The Gunslinger is a growing chasm. I understand it now, of course, but I never noticed before how many little clues about Roland's childhood are interspersed throughout.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Devil Grass Campfires
Since devil grass--that addictive weed that gives off a greasy, smoky light when used to make a fire--was all there was to burn, both Roland and the Man in Black used it to start their campfires in the desert.
The Man in Black's campfires were set up in a definite pattern, one described as "ideographic" (clearly symbolic). Even the unimaginative Roland ponders the remains of the Man in Black's fires, whether for example they are spelling out a warning such as "Keep your distance, partner", "The end draweth nigh", or "Come and get me."
Roland's own campfires send a rather telling message about their creator. Described as a "straightforward crisscross" that is "vaguely frightening in its no-nonsense surety", Roland's method of setting up the devil grass to burn is a strong indicator of his simple, workmanlike approach to life.
Although border dwellers were frightened of devil grass fires, perhaps with good reason (there was an overwhelming belief that demons danced within the flames and would draw you in if you looked too closely ... or too long ... or at all), neither the gunslinger nor the Man in Black had any choice in what to make his fire with.
To me, the most telling message sent forth to the reader by contemplating the devil grass campfires is that, when coming upon the remains of one abandoned by the Man in Black, Roland eats a piece of charred bacon left behind amidst the pattern of symbols.
This tells me two things:
First, the Man in Black has no intention of harming the gunslinger ... and they both know this (or else the Man in Black might have poisoned the bacon ... or Roland would never have eaten it).
Second, it's possible (even probable) that the Man in Black is taking steps to keep Roland alive. Throwing the gunslinger scraps like a starving dog must give him some sort of perverse pleasure.
The Man in Black's campfires were set up in a definite pattern, one described as "ideographic" (clearly symbolic). Even the unimaginative Roland ponders the remains of the Man in Black's fires, whether for example they are spelling out a warning such as "Keep your distance, partner", "The end draweth nigh", or "Come and get me."
Roland's own campfires send a rather telling message about their creator. Described as a "straightforward crisscross" that is "vaguely frightening in its no-nonsense surety", Roland's method of setting up the devil grass to burn is a strong indicator of his simple, workmanlike approach to life.
Although border dwellers were frightened of devil grass fires, perhaps with good reason (there was an overwhelming belief that demons danced within the flames and would draw you in if you looked too closely ... or too long ... or at all), neither the gunslinger nor the Man in Black had any choice in what to make his fire with.
To me, the most telling message sent forth to the reader by contemplating the devil grass campfires is that, when coming upon the remains of one abandoned by the Man in Black, Roland eats a piece of charred bacon left behind amidst the pattern of symbols.
This tells me two things:
First, the Man in Black has no intention of harming the gunslinger ... and they both know this (or else the Man in Black might have poisoned the bacon ... or Roland would never have eaten it).
Second, it's possible (even probable) that the Man in Black is taking steps to keep Roland alive. Throwing the gunslinger scraps like a starving dog must give him some sort of perverse pleasure.
A Momentary Dizziness
As The Gunslinger begins and Roland is in hot pursuit of the Man in Black across the desert, he feels what is described as a "momentary dizziness" from which he quickly recovers and moves on ("like the world upon whose hide he walked").
As he takes stock of himself, he realizes that some things are gone. His hat, for example, and the horn that had been dropped by his old friend Cuthbert Allgood as he headed into battle on Jericho Hill. The blue of his jeans has been worn down, and he has far fewer bullets. Although he knows all too well the fate of poor Cuthbert, it seems strange to me that Roland seems less concerned with his stock of supplies and how it came to be (or not to be). But of course, going with the flow (leaving it up to ka) is the essence of Roland's nature, so perhaps it's not all that strange.
In his methodical way, Roland recognizes the association between the period of dizziness he experienced and the loss of his friends (and his horn) at Jericho Hill. Only on this most recent reading of The Gunslinger have I realized the portent of this, both the stranger-in-a-strange-land vertigo Roland experiences and the first whiffs of memories he starts to recall.
As he takes stock of himself, he realizes that some things are gone. His hat, for example, and the horn that had been dropped by his old friend Cuthbert Allgood as he headed into battle on Jericho Hill. The blue of his jeans has been worn down, and he has far fewer bullets. Although he knows all too well the fate of poor Cuthbert, it seems strange to me that Roland seems less concerned with his stock of supplies and how it came to be (or not to be). But of course, going with the flow (leaving it up to ka) is the essence of Roland's nature, so perhaps it's not all that strange.
In his methodical way, Roland recognizes the association between the period of dizziness he experienced and the loss of his friends (and his horn) at Jericho Hill. Only on this most recent reading of The Gunslinger have I realized the portent of this, both the stranger-in-a-strange-land vertigo Roland experiences and the first whiffs of memories he starts to recall.
Guns of his Father
Roland's guns are described as "carefully weighted to his hands." Although they once belonged to his father, the guns were adapted to fit Roland's specific needs. When the guns came into his hands, "a plate had been added to each."
Roland's father, Steven Deschain, "had been lighter and not so tall" as our gunslinger. This is interesting because Roland is depicted as physically lean, so his father must have been a fairly small man (although, to be fair, Roland is also considered to be a pretty tall guy, so Steven was probably not what one would call small ... although bearing in mind the relationship between his wife Gabrielle and Marten, it's kind of impossible not to think in a certain direction here).
It's impossible to ignore the fact that, in terms of physical stature, Roland is superior to his father. Steven Deschain, once ruler of Gilead-that-was, is not able to effectively shoulder his burden. Interesting that Roland's very height and weight give the reader early (very early ... we're talking page four) indications that he is able to carry a much heavier load.
Roland's father, Steven Deschain, "had been lighter and not so tall" as our gunslinger. This is interesting because Roland is depicted as physically lean, so his father must have been a fairly small man (although, to be fair, Roland is also considered to be a pretty tall guy, so Steven was probably not what one would call small ... although bearing in mind the relationship between his wife Gabrielle and Marten, it's kind of impossible not to think in a certain direction here).
It's impossible to ignore the fact that, in terms of physical stature, Roland is superior to his father. Steven Deschain, once ruler of Gilead-that-was, is not able to effectively shoulder his burden. Interesting that Roland's very height and weight give the reader early (very early ... we're talking page four) indications that he is able to carry a much heavier load.
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