That being said, I'm glad I stuck it out.
See, it didn't really grab me at first. It was one of those things where I got 100 pages in, and I still didn't care about the characters. I'm not saying that King wrote the book poorly. It's a well-crafted novel that just wasn't appealing to me. Eventually, it sunk it's hooks in. I took the bait, and we were off to the races.
Firestarter is, like most of Stephen King's books of the time, about psychic powers. A man and a woman are among a group of college students who take part in a psychology department experiment. What they don't know is that the experiment is really a front for an experiment run by a shady government organization known colloquially as 'The Shop'. The Shop is like the kind of secret shit that the CIA doesn't know about. Long story short, the experimental serum administered to those students caused them all to develop some type of psychic power in various degrees.
Moving forward, Andy and Vicky (the aforementioned man and woman) fall in love, get married, and have a daughter, Charlene. They call her Charlie. Charlie is extra special. See, Andy can 'push', or influence people's thoughts. That, of course, comes at a price. The harder Andy pushes, the stronger his headache becomes. Push too hard, and Andy may give himself a stroke.
Wonder where the push idea might have come from?
Andy's wife, Vicky, has very minimal power. At her strongest, she can maybe close a door from across the room, or move something across the table. The important part is that Andy + Vicky = Charlie, but really Power + Power = ????
Charlie, they figure out quickly, can start fires with her mind. What else can Charlie do? That's what Andy and Vicky are afraid of, and that's exactly what The Shop wants to know. So, the McGee family goes on the run, trying to hide out from a government agency that most people doesn't know exists.
Here I was, reading about the McGee's and the guys from The Shop and not really being invested, and trying my damnedest not to let my minimal association with the movie influence my impression of the book. I knew there was a movie made. I've never seen it. I know that young Drew Barrymore starred as Charlie. I also knew that George C. Scott was in the movie.
Here's the thing about that: George C. Scott is who my mind associated with the role of Captain Hollister, head muckety muck of The Shop. For some reason, Scott is exactly who I envisioned as that fella. Come to find out after I'd finished the book that Scott played the role of John Rainbird in the movie.
WRONG WRONG WRONG!!! Sometimes, Hollywood sucks.
In the book, Rainbird is written as a cold, distant, imposing killer. A large, disfigured, brutish hulk of a man who dispenses people on behalf of The Shop with efficient methods. Also, and critically important to the character, he's Native American. George C. Scott is not even close to what my mental image of Rainbird was. Whatever. At any rate, I'm glad I didn't look into the details of the movie until after I'd finished the book.
Speaking of the book, I can't exactly pinpoint where it turned on me, but if I had to hazard a guess, it would be when the McGee's ended up at Irv Mander's farm, the scene of their first showdown with The Shop. The character of Irv Manders is probably what sealed the deal for me. Manders picks up the McGee's hitchhiking, and provides that kind of grandfatherly wisdom that is one of the hallmarks of a King novel for me. Irv Manders is the Glen Bateman of Charlie's world, and I like guys like that.
I spent a couple of days wracking my brain, trying to figure out what angle to approach this entry from. How was I going to write about Firestarter? What's my take? It's a decent enough book, entertaining, even if it isn't the kind of work that turned the literary world on it's ear. Instead, I keep thinking about The Shop. The shadowy figures of the government, or worse. I think about The Shop, and I think about human nature and our hesitance to be selfless.
The Shop is kind of like the CIA, Jack Bauer's CTU, and the Mafia all rolled into one, only somewhat more stupid. As intimidating as they're supposed to be, some of The Shop's field agents seem pretty dumb in this book. The Shop is the kind of job that you might wind up in if, say, you'd spent some time in the Navy Seals, or the Rangers, or maybe the FBI. Maybe you were a bit of a hothead, maybe you broke protocol, maybe you just didn't fit into 'the world'. Somehow, The Shop seemed to find you. Almost like the Government version of the shady Blackwater contract operators of the Iraq War.
Without going all Alex Jones conspiracy on you, I believe that there's some weird shit that goes on. The CIA's role in Watergate and Vietnam. Hell, if you've ever seen the movie 'The Good Shepherd', you get an idea of the birth of the CIA out of the ashes of the OSS. There's a place in this world for the guys to work in the dark. Maybe it's necessary, maybe it's not. I'm not going to try and make points that start a political debate. That's not my place and I can make arguments for both sides. My point is: I think it happens, and I think it happens a lot more than we know about.
Does that make them really good at their job? Does that make me stupid for not seeing it? Both, maybe? People lived entire lives surrounded by people that had no idea they worked for the CIA. Hell, my neighbor might work for the CIA. I don't know.
In the beginning of 'Firestarter', The McGee's are in an airport, trying to stay one step ahead of The Shop. I've been in an airport plenty of times. I've never seen James Bond or Jack Bauer hustling through while I'm just waiting to board for my vacation. Imagine if you were in that airport, and all of this chase and turmoil is swirling around you, and you're none the wiser.
Maybe we don't see it because we simply don't care. It doesn't involve us. We don't pick up hitchhikers because we're afraid we'll get murdered on the side of the highway. We don't give change to the guy who's holding a cardboard sign at the exit ramp or the corner. We've become selfish and cynical, and we're looking out for Number One.
And I come back to my favorite fella, Irv Manders. Riding down the road, he sees the McGee's trying to thumb a ride. Of course his instinct tells him something is wrong, but he stops anyway, scoops them up, takes them back to his farm, and offers them his help. Taking a risk and accepting a level of danger that he has no idea he's about to face, he does the good thing because he's a good man.
I'm not saying you need to pick up hitchhikers. I don't think I'd do that. I know that I've been to too many intersections with people asking for help. Asking for money. The cardboard sign tells their tale. They're out of work, they're a Veteran, they're a father and they need money for diapers, whatever it is. I've been guilty of being selfish, because I usually keep driving. I don't BELIEVE them.
You know what? It doesn't matter if I believe them. If I roll down the window and give him $.50, what does it really matter to me if he's telling the truth or going to buy a bottle of booze? It doesn't, and instead of being so cynical and selfish about it, maybe I should try and get the karma swinging my way, be a little more thankful for my good fortune, and help pay it forward a few coins at a time. There's no real harm in taking that chance, and it might actually do some good. $.50 from a few cars an hour adds up. I'd like to think in my head that maybe, just maybe, that guy is gonna go into Walgreens later and make a cashier roll her eyes with frustration because he's going to buy some Pampers with a handful of quarters and nickels. So, with that, I think it's time for me to adjust my outlook on that sort of thing, and try to make a little bit of difference.
That sounds like a very Irv Manders thing to do.
