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Four childhood friends, united by secrets, are caught in the quarantine zone when something crashes into the remote forests of Maine; and the question becomes who will avoid being eaten alive by alien fungi, torn from the inside by alien ferrets, possessed by alien minds or menaced by a psychotic military commander to whom ruthlessness has become a macho ego trip?
The Earth is in peril as well, needless to say, but most of our attention is taken up with a few men caught on the edge, and where the most important thing in the world turns out to be the fact that four small boys saved a fifth from a beating.
This has the hall-marks of a good King novel--memorable catchphrases whose meaning we only gradually learn and a sense of how it feels to be human. --Roz Kaveney -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine andere Ausgabe: Gebundene Ausgabe .
Four boyhood pals in Derry, Maine, get together for a pilgrimage to their favorite deep-woods cabin, Hole in the Wall. The four have been telepathically linked since childhood, thanks to a searing experience involving a Down syndrome neighbor--a human dreamcatcher. They've all got midlife crises: clownish Beav has love problems; the intellectual shrink, Henry, is slowly succumbing to the siren song of suicide; Pete is losing a war with beer; Jonesy has had weird premonitions ever since he got hit by a car.
Then comes worse trouble: an old man named McCarthy (a nod to the star of the 1956 film Invasion of the Body Snatchers) turns up at Hole in the Wall. His body is erupting with space aliens resembling furry moray eels: their mouths open to reveal nests of hatpin-like teeth. Poor Pete tries to remove one that just bit his ankle: "Blood flew in splattery fans as Pete tried to shake it off, stippling the snow and the sawdusty tarp and the dead woman's parka. Droplets flew into the fire and hissed like fat in a hot skillet."
For all its nicely described mayhem, Dreamcatcher is mostly a psychological drama. Typically, body snatchers turn humans into zombies, but these aliens must share their host's mind, fighting for control. Jonesy is especially vulnerable to invasion, thanks to his hospital bed near-death transformation, but he's also great at messing with the alien's head. While his invading alien, Mr. Gray, is distracted by puppeteering Jonesy's body as he's driving an Arctic Cat through a Maine snowstorm, Jonesy constructs a mental warehouse along the lines of The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci. Jonesy physically feels as if he's inside a warehouse, locked behind a door with the alien rattling the doorknob and trying to trick him into letting him in. It's creepy from the alien's view, too. As he infiltrates Jonesy, experiencing sugar buzz, endorphins, and emotions for the first time, Jonesy's influence is seeping into the alien: "A terrible thought occurred to Mr. Gray: what if it was his concepts that had no meaning?"
King renders the mental fight marvelously, and telepathy is a handy way to make cutting back and forth between the campers' various alien battlefronts crisp and cinematic. The physical naturalism of the Maine setting is matched by the psychological realism of the interior struggle. Deftly, King incorporates the real-life mental horrors of his own near-fatal accident and dramatizes the way drugs tug at your consciousness. Like the Tommyknockers, the aliens are partly symbols of King's (vanquished) cocaine and alcohol addiction. Mainly, though, they're just plain scary. Dreamcatcher is a comeback and an infusion of rich new blood into King's body of work. --Tim Appelo -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verfügbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.
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Doch das ist nur Vorgeplänkel. Etwas Fremdes kommt aus dem Wald, Aliens sind (not-)gelandet, und die Militärs sind wildentschlossen, ihnen mitsamt den 350 Zivilisten in der Region den Garaus zu machen. Ein Kampf auf Leben und Tod entbrennt - zwischen, wie man bald feststellt, mehr als nur zwei Fraktionen.
Auch wenn das Buch sich wie klassische King-Mystery anlässt und einige recht eklige Horrorelemente aufweist, ist es doch eher gute SciFi im Sinne von Akte X, bis hin zu den 'bad guys' in Uniform. Der Mittelteil zieht sich leider wie Kaugummi, und manche Szenen scheinen geradezu auf eine Verfilmung hin konzipiert zu sein - andere Teile sind nicht nur offensichtlich autobiographisch gefärbt (King verarbeitet seinen Unfall), sondern auch durchaus selbstreflexiv und -ironisch. Wer schon einige Kings gelesen hat, weiss, wie es ausgeht und wer am Ende das Zeitliche segnet, aber dafür liest man King ja auch nicht - sondern um sich in eine andere Welt entführen zu lassen, in der die Menschen Castle Rock Radio hören und sich der Finsternis in ihrem Inneren ebenso stellen müssen wie dem Bösen da draussen...
Ja, Stephen King kann es immer noch: Gänsehaut und Atmosphäre erzeugen. Nicht sein bester, aber ein guter King-Roman.
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