Autumn brings long drives along winding roads to wineries tucked deep into the hills. It brings the brilliant colors of sugar maples along the winery roads, and mostly, it brings Stephen King.
Salem’s Lot is Halloween in a book. It’s October and the long shadows between the homes of the town once founded as Jerusalem. The first time I read this novel was in the midnight galley of a small ship crossing the Mediterranean. Imagine the creaking side to side, the sway of the hanging lamps, shadows dancing in the corner of my eyes.
This, to me, is the original book of vampires, and monsters, and things that go bump in the night. It’s deep, dark, and building. Novelist Ben Mears returns to Salem’s Lot, Maine to write his book. Strange things begin to happen when an eerie someone moves into the old Marsten House on the hill, a dark and foreboding property that has haunted Ben before. When people begin to disappear, Ben gets involved with the help of the townspeople.
One of King’s earlier books, it is his raw, unrestricted talent exploding between the pages of this suspenseful read. Pour a steamy cup of hot apple cider, curl up by the crackling fire, and spend an evening with this classic.
It’s almost October, and this book awaits me once more.