This is the first time I’ve finished a Stephen King novel and thought, “Boy, that could’ve done with a couple hundred more pages.” Which isn’t to say the 240 here aren’t packed with incident, or that “Later” won’t end up being one of the best damn entertainments of the year. I just wish the core ideas at the heart of it had more time to germinate, and that the connective tissue between its major scenes expanded upon.
Jamie Conklin sees dead people. I know — you’re read and watched this one before. But like every device in fiction, it’s not the concept that makes a novel, but its development. “Later” is framed from Jamie’s perspective, looking back on his childhood as the only child of a New York literary agent. He’s aware of his supernatural ability, but tries to ignore it, and does so successfully — mostly. The dead don’t interact with Jamie unless he initiates contact, and unless their bodies were mangled in death, they look like everybody else on the street.
But dire circumstances dictate Jamie harness his “powers” to help his mother finish her late client’s manuscript. And when his mum’s girlfriend — a crooked, dope-addicted cop — witnesses Jamie in action, she realises how effective he could be in saving lives… and illicitly enhancing her own. Trouble is, Jamie has angered a darker, demonic presence, who wants revenge.
Jamie’s young voice doesn’t come off as particularly contemporary, which jarred at first, given the story is ser in the recent past; but it bothered me less as the story progressed. I didn’t love King’s explanation as to how Jamie got his abilities in the novel’s coda, either. It fits thematically, I suppose, but left me feeling a little sour. But “Later” is such a cracking yarn, easily consumed in one poolside sitting. Its story beats echo some of King’s epic works, but confined to the shorter page count of the classic pulps. No, it’s not vintage, but I had a really fun time with it.
Simon McDonald 