Lodge Life

In October,  a visit to the historic Timberline Lodge in Oregon got me thinking about Steven King's novel, The Shining.  The film would be an obvious re-visit after a weekend stay at the Timberline, the lodge was made famous as the exterior of the Overlook Hotel, but I immediately attached to the desolation and massive scope of the location. The hotel is huge. Mount Hood is huge.  Ample space to let an active imagination run wild.  Enough isolation to allow the hotel to reveal some secrets. The film just can't touch the book when it comes to the psychological struggles people confront when completely isolated in such a massive place.

I used to write a column for a local art and culture website, Wonder and Risk. It was a labor of love by a bunch of weirdos and art lovers of all kinds, myself included. Now that the page is gone, I have decided to share a few of my articles here. I wrote about The Shining in the fall, and now that it is the dead of winter, it feels just as appropriate.
When I wrote this particular column, it was often focused on certain passages of books and offered the text with the article. Due to the size of chapter 34, I ask that you dig up a copy of the book for yourself.  I promise you will be happy with the book as a deep winter read.

The Timberline, at sunset.

Fall. The season when we celebrate fear.  As a society we really lean into it. The things that scare us are ultimately individual and somehow common altogether.  When I think about a good scare I always come back to The Shining. Everybody has seen the film. I am suggesting something else. I am suggesting that you read Stephen King’s third novel and let your mind push past the bloody elevator, room 237 and the beautiful Overlook hotel. More specifically I request that you give special attention to chapter 34, The Hedges.  

Pour yourself a whiskey, settle in with the book and wonder about a few things. First, when was the last time your mind got the best of you? On a late night walk home when footsteps behind sounded urgent?  Perhaps you looked over from your bed in the dark and the laundry draped over the chair took on a menacing shape? Ever glanced at a window to see another looking in?  Now, what if the footsteps kept on coming, the face in the window wanted into the house, and the laundry pile stood up?  This is the spot where Danny found himself in chapter 34. He wants to believe it isn't real, that his eyes and ears are tricking him. The wet thuds of snow and the feeling of total aloneness making his heart explode in his chest. Knowing that his survival is solely up to him.

That brings my next question. When was the last time you were truly alone? Honestly alone, with no one to hear you call out, no cell phone service, not another soul for miles. I know I had to think on it for a while.

Think on it. Be alone.  Read chapter 34 and see if the suggestive power and images of King’s wicked character study get into your head. Or try to keep them out.

Room 210

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