The King in Yellow Must Die


Things have all gone their merry way, and now the end of October is upon us, which subsequently means the fall of the King in Yellow, ultimately signifying the end with The King in Yellow. And good riddance too; I nearly bored myself to death making stuff up. Lesson learned: Never make a blog series longer than three posts.

I promise to remain short, sweet, and simple from now on.

Conclusion Before the Conclusion:

Now I will tell you what I think the King in Yellow represents in Robert W. Chamber’s world: death. Wearing a different suit, that is. Think about it: a mask which is not a mask, tattered robes, insanity, chaos, confusion, melodrama . . .

Death is a soap-opera-watching, Harlequin-reading junkie, who from time to time comes to town!

At least he didn’t come from Nilbog!

To be honest I began to hate the book after a while. I read the Wendigo by Algernon Blackwood recently, and I finished it in three days; it was half the length of The King in Yellow, mind, but at least it was interesting. I’m not interested in hearing about artists and their plight (I’m an artist myself, so I’m allowed to say that), nor do I care much for stories which are all over the place. I also don’t care to overthink things, and that’s not because I have a headache induced by too much caffeine and too little sleep.

More importantly, it’s fun to see the good in things, but it’s also fun to have an opinion about them. Oh yes! Come on King in Yellow, how do you like me now?

When is a door not a door?

When it’s your face.

When is a mask not a mask?

When it’s ajar!

Yak Yak Yak Yak Yak Yak Yak Blah Blah Blah Blaine is a pain, it’s all the same Blah Blah Yak Yak Yak.

(And then Carmilla gave a coy smile . . . It chilled me to my very bones.)

A Second Opinion:

Hold on there missy! You can’t just make snarky remarks, and then amalgamate references from The Dark Tower series with The King in Yellow! How dare you!

I can. Know why?

My mother was a hamster.

And my father stank of elderberries.

With all this being said, there really are a lot of good things about The King in Yellow. The previous chapter read was full of beautiful imagery; I think the whole book should have been like The Prophet’s Paradise, not only because of its richness but because it was a quick read. The other three chapters made me think, made me mad, made me twitch, itch . . . Most of all they made me uncomfortable. And then I learned some more about HP Lovecraft in the process.

Overall, the stories (or chapters) which stood out the most to me were the shortest ones; they were usually the ones least likely to boggle my mind. I didn’t mind the sappy romance in the shorter ones either; I found it sweet, if not short-lived at times.

Is the book done? Nope. Will I ever finish it? Maybe. Will I discuss it here once more? Who knows?

(Now excuse me while I force the King in Yellow to listen to What Does the Fox Say? over, and over, and over . . . In an endless cycle bent on destroying his non-existent mask! Soon, Carmilla will have nothing to complain about!)

This blog entry has been brought to you by Penny Cobb. If you want to hate a book, she suggests dragging it out for a month when you could be reading something else!
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