Following the theme of 'The Long Walk', this book is set in the distant, dystopian future of America. An America that's controlled by 'The Network', where televisions are compulsory in every home. An America where the divide between the Haves and the Have Nots is stark, even by today's standards. An America where the Have Nots fight for a chance to make some gains by selling their souls to The Network.
In a bizarre, yet prophetic, twist on the concept of the Roman gladiators, lower class people subject themselves to being on the Network's gameshows. Shows that take advantage of their weaknesses in order for them to earn cash. Shows that ultimately end in the competitor's death. See, it's not about if they're going to die or not. It's about how long they can survive on games like 'Treadmill to Cash', where volunteers with heart conditions run at increasing speeds to earn more money for their families. They're sacrificing themselves, and they do it willingly because they're so desperate, they see no other option. They'll earn Network money to give their family a better life, even when it costs them theirs. The citizens? They eat it up.
Quaint, huh?
Think of 'The Hunger Games', long before Suzanne Collins ever put idea to paper (or computer), and you have Bachman/King's America of 2025. In the way that Panem has 'The Capital' and President Snow, America has The Network and Dan Killian. Killian is the Executive Producer of 'The Running Man', which is the powerhouse gameshow of The Network. The Running Man is fairly simple. How long can you stay on the run before you're captured or killed? The longer you stay alive, the more money you earn.
However, like any good casino, the odds are always stacked in house favor. See, Citizens of this America don't want to see people survive. They're glued to the Free-Vee to see blood and guts. All the better for them if they happen to find themselves involved, as there's reward money for tips and info that would lead to the capture of the runner. Similar to today's news channels, The Network would break into pre-recorded programming if the Runner is about to meet the end of his run.
We interrupt your pre-recorded program to take you live, where someone is about to get their ass blown to smithereens
Ok, so I've set the stage a little bit. Ben Richards, a poor guy living in the bad part of town, can't catch a break. He's been blackballed from gainful employment because he dared to speak up about the dangerous work conditions at the factory. He's got a wife and a baby girl to try and support. With his daughter falling ill, and his wife turning to prostitution just to make ends meet, Richards decides to go apply for the games. Tons of applicants start the process every morning, and they're weeded out throughout the day through a variety of physical and mental examinations. As the number dwindles, Richards manages to stay in the group, eventually finding himself accepted. He doesn't know what he's been selected for, and he's put in isolated quarters, probably to discourage gossip. Eventually, he's led to a meeting, stunned to find out he's been selected, along with another, for The Running Man. He's hit the big time. Killian explains the rules, they trot him out in front of the studio audience, who dutifully boos and promises to help make sure he's captured, and they send him on his way.
Richards runs, and he has exploits, and I'm not going to tell you them, because I either expect you to have read the book by now, or I'd like you to read it. In Fact, if you HAVEN'T read it
SPOILER ALERT
I'm going to spoil the shit out of this book, because I have to. I can't say what I'm thinking without covering the end. Suffice it to say, he does not shoot Richard Dawson down some crazy luge chute for a happy ending with Maria Conchita Alonso. See, I just spoiled the movie for you, too!
There's a lot of dystopian future novels out there. Ones with oppressive governments and ruthless leaders. Maybe, when this book came out in 1982, it wasn't a tired concept, but it's dime a dozen nowadays. That doesn't lessen the impact of King's writing. In my mind, I always read the story with a sense of historical context. Maybe not the first time, but as I approach it again and again, I remind myself that it was written in a world without internet, at a time when the concept of cable television was just beginning to gain traction.
After being hunted down and chased throughout what, in this alternate universe, used to constitute New England, Ben Richards takes a hostage and makes a last stand at an airport, demanding a plane. He gets his plane. Breaking with every understanding of how the games system works, Richards is given an out. He's offered a job by the Network to become one of the Hunters. As he mulls it over, he's also told that his wife and daughter were 'coincidentally' killed soon after he went on the run. Sad, sad, Ben, we know, but this would allow you to commit fully to your career, your DUTY, as a Hunter. The news, combined with the blood loss and shock from the many wounds accrued during his run, leave Richards dazed and woozy.
After some climactic action on the plane, we get the denouement. Richards, mortally wounded in the process, kills the Hunters, including a secret CIA-type agent posing as one of the pilots, and commandeers the plane, aiming it directly towards the Network headquarters skyscraper. Ben Richards, through the magic of storytelling and disbelief, is able to see exactly which floor Killian is on, makes eye contact with him and gives him the finger before crashing the plane directly into the Network building. Fin. End of Story. No epilogue about how Richards was a hero and turned the tide, starting a revolution against the Network. No epilogue about how Network PR spun the story as a huge tragedy and made Killian out to be a martyr, while Richards murdered him and countless others in his final selfish act. Richards is our protagonist, and when his candle is extinguished, so is our pipeline into the story.
BLOGGER EPILOGUE
It's been over two years since I last posted about a book. In that two years, I read 'The Running Man' at least 3 different times, started multiple blog posts, and never quite found a lane to run in. So many different thoughts about it, and all of them sputtered out within a couple of paragraphs. I'd set it aside, and come back 6 months later, read the book again, and start over, only to find myself in the same predicament. Finally, two years after Cujo, I reapproached The Running Man again, living in a contemporary world unlike one I've ever known. I'm 40 years old as of this writing, and I've never experienced a social climate so divided, with such little hope of reconciliation. The most despicable aspects of human nature have been given voice and empowerment, vitriol without consequence is a mainstay, and anything disagreeable to your personal position can be summarily dismissed by calling it 'fake news'.
I hope that we're not on the way to an America like the one Ben Richards fictionally inhabits a mere 8 years from now, but we're closer to the brink of nuclear annihilation and politically driven societal collapse than we've been in at least 40 years, and possibly ever.
That, my friends, is some heavy shit to reckon with. So, while the real world news is bleak, it was a sad realization to find that I actually looked forward to getting in the mindset of the Network America of 'The Running Man'.
I'd also be remiss to not mention that the plane crash ending leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth after 9/11. King, of course, couldn't have known, much in the way that he couldn't have anticipated how sadly common mass shootings would become when he wrote 'Rage', and yet we have the advantage of hindsight, and the side effect of the awkwardness it can bring in situations like this.
Thus, finally, ends my long, LOOOOOONG struggle with 'The Running Man'. Up next: a chance to critically revisit the doorway to my favorite literary opus of all time. I get to first meet Roland Deschain again (which makes perfect sense to most of us) in the original version of 'The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger'.
