Mr. Mercedes

 

Mr. Mercedes 

By Stephen King

Not my kind of book. Sorry, Cindy.

A book club pick that I will admit I was not looking forward to. I decided to listen to it on my drive to Florida and back, figuring a thriller might be a good way to pass the time.

I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting. The cover promised a thriller, and as I began listening, I thought perhaps we were getting a murder mystery. But then we find out pretty quickly who Mr. Mercedes, the killer, actually is. So, I concluded that this was less of a whodunit and more of a mass murderer and a retired detective ping-ponging back and forth in a disturbing game of cat and mouse.

I will try not to be too critical. After all, I write book reviews, and alas, I am no bestselling author. But somewhere along the way, I kept asking myself: Did I miss the point? Overall, I found this to be a strange, unsettling book that simply wasn't for me.

Set against the backdrop of the 2009 economic downturn, the story begins with a horrific crime. Desperate job seekers have spent the night lined up outside a job fair, hoping to be among the first through the doors. Then, in the early morning hours, a man wearing a clown mask drives a stolen Mercedes into the crowd, killing eight people and injuring fifteen. The driver disappears, leaving behind a devastated community and a retired detective, Bill Hodges, who can't let the unsolved case go. When Hodges receives a taunting letter from the killer, his otherwise uneventful retirement takes a very dark turn.

Here's the thing: I can read true crime until the cows come home. But crime fiction? Or, more specifically, this crime fiction? Apparently, not so much.

I was about ten hours into the audiobook when I seriously considered turning it off for good. This was the point where Brady and his mother kill his baby brother, Frankie. The scene was gruesome, heartbreaking, and absolutely chilling. The thought of Brady kicking the child down the stairs, followed by his mother smothering him with a couch pillow as he lies helplessly on the basement floor beside his beloved Sammy the Firetruck, was more than I wanted to hear. I had to turn it off for a while.

Listen, I know life isn't all sunshine and rainbows. I understand that fiction can explore the darkest parts of human nature. But Jesus. This scene broke me.

And I should back up for a minute, because the disturbing relationship between Brady and his mother was another aspect of the story I found deeply unsettling. The grotesque sexual nature of their relationship was horrifying in its own right. I realize these details were meant to reveal just how twisted and damaged these characters were, but there is a difference between understanding a character's depravity and wanting to spend hours listening to it.

Then Brady strikes again, and his mother's death by poisoned hamburger meat follows. I probably should have seen that coming, but by this point, I was already emotionally exhausted. Watching her suffer while Brady simply observes was difficult to listen to, even knowing she was hardly an innocent victim herself.

And then there's the ending. I'm not sure what I expected, but Brady coming around with a headache and asking for his mother? NO. Just no. After everything that came before it, that was the final nail in the coffin for me.

I can appreciate that Stephen King knows how to create deeply disturbing characters and make readers uncomfortable. Clearly, he succeeded. But being disturbed isn't necessarily the same as being entertained, and I spent much of this audiobook wishing I were listening to something else.

Perhaps this is a case of the right book finding the wrong reader. I know King has plenty of devoted fans, and I won't argue with anyone who loved it. But for me, this was a dark, disturbing, and ultimately unpleasant listening experience.

My verdict: Not every book is for every reader, and this one certainly wasn't for me.