Book Review: The Dead Zone

By Stephen King

Finished 5/22/26

Stephen King’s The Dead Zone feels like one of those books where the concept does a lot of the heavy lifting early on. A man lives with the ability to touch people or objects and suddenly see fragments of the past or future. That’s classic King territory: supernatural, tragic, weirdly human, and rooted in everyday life. And for me, the beginning and ending of this book really worked.

What I liked most about The Dead Zone wasn’t necessarily the “psychic powers” themselves, but the emotional fallout around them. Johnny Smith is one of King’s more grounded protagonists, being very careful about how/when he uses his powers, even though they carry a heavy mental and physical toll. There’s a sadness hanging over him from the beginning, even before a terrible accident and the following coma changes everything in his life. The car crash sequence itself hits hard because of how ordinary and avoidable it feels. King is so good at making catastrophe feel random and deeply personal at the same time.

The relationship between Johnny and Sarah ended up being one of the strongest parts of the book for me, especially their couple origin story. There’s something bittersweet and haunting about how it all fell apart. Their lives drift apart not because of betrayal or lack of love, but because time itself sort of swallows them whole. I actually wish King had kept them together longer as I think the story still could have explored all of its larger themes while letting that relationship breathe more. Their chemistry gave the book a warmth that I missed later on.

The political rise of Greg Stillson is definitely a fascinating thread in the novel. King paints him less like a traditional polished politician and more like some chaotic traveling salesman mixed with a cult leader and pro wrestler. The bikers, the crowds, the cockeyed construction hat, the almost rock-concert atmosphere around him…it all feels strange and theatrical in a way that becomes increasingly unsettling as the story unfolds. King smartly avoids revealing exactly what future horror Johnny sees coming for a long time, which makes Stillson feel like a walking storm cloud throughout the book.

The Wheel of Fortune chapter also really stuck with me. Something about Johnny, Sarah, the carney running the wheel, and that bizarre hot streak of luck gives the whole section this dreamy, ominous energy. King has always been great at writing scenes that feel slightly “off,” like fate quietly rearranging itself in the background while nobody notices yet. That chapter felt like a warning shot for the tragedy to come.

Another underrated piece of the novel is Johnny’s family life, especially the tension between his exhausted father and his deeply religious mother. Vera Smith honestly feels like she wandered in from a darker version of Carrie. Her evangelical obsession and hysterical interpretation of Johnny’s accident create so much emotional pressure in the household. Meanwhile, Johnny’s dad ends up being one of the most sympathetic characters in the entire story. Which is why I was disappointed when he mostly fades from the book later on. After Vera dies, it feels like some of the emotional texture disappears with her. The book loses a little of its spark after that point.

And that’s probably my biggest issue with The Dead Zone overall: the middle section drags. Hard. There’s a long stretch where the momentum just sort of evaporates, and unlike some of King’s longer books, the prose here doesn’t always compensate for it. Usually King can carry you through slower chapters with atmosphere, beautiful small-town observations, or unforgettable character moments. Here, I found myself putting the book down for days at a time without really feeling pulled back in. The novel feels about 100-200 pages longer than it needed to be.

There are also moments where you can feel echoes of other King stories bleeding into this one. The psychic glimpses almost feel like a cousin to the time-bending mechanics of 11/22/63. Stillson carries shades of the populist mob-energy King explores in Under the Dome. Vera’s religious fanaticism recalls Carrie. None of that ruins the book, but it does make The Dead Zone feel slightly less original compared to some of King’s very best work.

That said…the ending absolutely lands (spoiler warning). And it lands in a way that feels deeply “Stephen King.” Johnny believes he may have to become a killer in order to stop Stillson from becoming president. But Stillson’s cowardly act shatters the carefully constructed image he built throughout the novel and changes the path of his history. Johnny dies knowing he altered the future without fully sacrificing his humanity in the process. That’s poetic justice if I’ve ever seen it.

Overall, I liked The Dead Zone more than I loved it. The highs are very high. The emotional core works. The political storyline becomes increasingly compelling. The opening and ending are both fantastic. But the middle stretch really loses steam, and the book never fully reaches the emotional or atmospheric heights of King’s absolute classics for me.

Still very much worth reading, but ranked in the third tier of Stephen King favorability for me.

Rating: 7/10

Book Review: The Green Mile

By Stephen King

Finished 6/17/25

Wow. Just…wow. This one absolutely lands in my top three Stephen King books. It’s one of those stories that sticks with you long after you close the last page.

At the center of it all is John Coffey, who might be the most beautiful and heartbreaking character King has ever written. He’s a massive man on death row, accused of murdering two young girls, and because of his size—and the racism of the time—it’s easy for everyone to assume the worst. He’s sent to Cold Mountain Penitentiary’s death row block, known by the guards as The Green Mile, where inmates take their final walk to Old Sparky, the electric chair.

But John Coffey is not what anyone expects.

What slowly unfolds is the realization that John has an extraordinary gift—he can heal people, pulling sickness and pain out of them in a way that feels almost supernatural. Some of the moments where this power shows up are among the most moving scenes King has ever written. They’re strange, unsettling, and deeply emotional all at once.

The story is told through Paul Edgecombe, the guard in charge of the Mile, and he’s a great narrator for this kind of story: thoughtful, conflicted, and very human. The other guards are memorable too, each bringing their own personality and moral compass to the job. Even many of the inmates end up being more layered than you expect, which makes the whole world of the book feel lived-in and complicated.

What really makes The Green Mile work, though, is how it blends the supernatural with something deeply human. On the surface it’s a prison story. Underneath, it’s about mercy, justice, cruelty, and the weight of carrying other people’s pain. King leans hard into the idea that appearances can be wildly misleading, and that some of the most gentle souls end up in the darkest places.

It’s also one of King’s most emotional books. Not scary, exactly but more haunting in a moral sense. The kind of story that quietly builds until it hits you in the gut.

There are a lot of memorable turns along the way, and King threads them together in a way that keeps the tension high without ever losing sight of the characters. By the end, the story feels less like a thriller and more like a tragedy you knew was coming but still hoped might somehow turn out differently.

Beautiful, strange, and deeply sad in the best possible way.

Rating: 9.5/10