And on further inspection, one sees the places where the rendering only approximates reality, where curves become right angles and true diagonals don’t exist. When you step back, it’s impressive to see what he has built, even if one can’t help wondering whether it would be better if the pieces weren’t quite so fungible. To continue the analogy, it’s a bit like seeing an accurate-to-scale roller coaster made entirely of Legos. This is not necessarily a complaint the prose reads easily and enjoyably. On a more granular level, King’s sentences snap into each other like Lego bricks, standardized, expertly molded pieces engineered to fit together perfectly. And while the earnestness is not necessarily unwelcome, especially given our young narrator, it has the effect of diluting the emotional power of that central relationship. Whereas the movie evokes depth of feeling through stillness and restraint, King’s novel is more effusive, stating things that could have remained unsaid. Beyond the superficial similarities (sensitive kid, single mother, talking to dead people), the emotional core of King’s story-in particular, the parent-child relationship at its center-is also reminiscent of M. Despite its early assurance to the contrary, Later is like that movie with Bruce Willis. King captures in dialogue and description a sense of closeness, the specialness of those key years between childhood and teens, when your mom can be not just your parent but also your best friend and hero. King weaves a story of adolescence with a sweetness at its heart-the touching and genuine relationship between Jamie and Tia.

Stephen king novel later