The Queens of King

The Queens of King – What Stephen King’s Women Mean To Us

Written for Outsider Zine, Vol. 1 – available now.

Stephen King has created a lot of characters, but it is the women that he writes that garner the most attention. One way or another, the women of Stephen King give us something special. They give us hope, they give us fear, and they give us the belief that we can do better, can survive, and can overcome. To name but a few, I want to take a look at just what Stephen King gave us when he gave us these women, and why they are so persistent in our minds and hearts.

In 1974, Stephen King published his first novel, and what a debut she was. Carrie seamlessly melds the genres of horror and coming-of-age…but then again, aren’t they really the same thing? A victim of her abusive mother and of her cruel classmates, Carrie’s place in her story is one defined by victimhood. Her power, however, is reclaimed in flames. From her persecution and pain comes revenge. The traits that made Carrie represent the world’s fear of women and their sexuality, fear of women and girls realising their power and agency and using it to the maximum. Carrie reminds us that vengeance isn’t always sweet. Her potential, unleashed after years of being denied, suppressed, overlooked, and punished, is so forceful that it bursts through the dams and boundaries and leaves havoc in its wake. Carrie steps into her agency in a fantastically fatal way; she is a warning and a beacon. Maybe we have been there. Maybe we have been tormented in school, or maybe our home life has been difficult. Maybe we just felt like an outsider in our own life. That is what makes Carrie’s revenge and story so tempting to us. Carrie takes back a power she was never given and never told she had, and in doing so, she gives us hope we might be able to do the same.

Misery loves company, and Annie Wilkes is no exception. Misery’s Annie Wilkes is far from the easily understandable victim. Her character, especially the one we see brought to life by Kathy Bates, has come to represent so much for women, cinema, and horror. From the unhinged nurse next to Mildred Ratched, to the female serial killer, Annie Wilkes has been instrumental to the creation of archetypes in the genre of horror. Single minded and unrelenting, you could definitely argue that in the film adaptation Annie was robbed of her book-given ending; hands on chainsaw, ready to take down anything that doesn’t fit her plan. Be that as it may, her macabre resolution persists in popular culture. Annie is a woman who launched a thousand films. She and everything she stood for shifted the narrative and made women just as dangerous as men. Annie also asks us how we view femininity and mental illness. Women aren’t products or objects – there is no mould from which we can spring a Perfect Prototype. Women are nebulous, complex, twisted, flawed, and infinite in definition and identification. Annie reminds us that we best not forget that fact.

Beverly Marsh is the only girl in the Losers Club, and in my opinion, the bravest out of all its members. In fact, Beverly Marsh is the bravest person on It and the town of Derry. Beverly is the subject of violence and trauma that no one should have to endure, especially at the hands of people we trust. The consistent abuse to which Beverly is subjected follows her throughout her life – from her father to the Bowers Gang, to Tom Rogan. In Beverly, we are given someone who endures, someone who fights, and someone who is strong beyond the reckoning of all those around her. In

Beverly, we get a survivor. Maturity is a necessity afforded to her from her regrettable and damaging surroundings, and it quickly becomes one of Beverly’s most valuable assets. It is a mammoth undertaking as a read or watch, but even greater to have lived. We feel fear and desperation drip from every page, every mintute. In creating Beverly, Stephen King shows us how women are so often seen as tradable objects, to be owned and protected as a matter of course by men. Beverly needs no protection. Beverly survives, and Beverly creates the life she always wanted for herself. Beverly, then, reminds us that we can overcome our past, and go past surviving to really, truly live.

Donna Trenton is a mother, and Donna Trenton had an affair. Cujo sees Donna trapped in a car, increasingly hotter and hotter, for three days, fighting with all her might to protect herself and her son from a rabid, vicious dog, Cujo. In the book, there are no chapters, only the agonising and seemingly unending turmoil that Donna and her son Tadd must endure. In the book, too, the consequences of Donna’s sacrifices are far different. From the book to the film we have two different versions of Donna Trenton, but both are fearless, determined, and devoted to her son. Donna gives us a woman who has made mistakes, but who is no worse a person for them. The true measure of someone is how they act in moments of crisis, and the ragged and bitten and savaged Donna does nothing but fight for her little boy. The tenacity, the bravery, and the sheer will to live and protect those she loves is palpable and gut wrenching. In Donna, Stephen King gives us someone who refuses to lose. She is hard, she is comforting, she is vicious, and she is vulnerable. Donna Trenton is a much-overlooked Final Girl, and one who even in the (fluffy and rabid) face of terror and fear keep her head. As Cujo bays at the windows, Donna is concerned only with protecting her son, and it’s a mission she will give her life for, no questions asked.

It’s wrong to play favourites, I know, but Trisha McFarland is just too special. Trisha is The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, brought to us in 1999 on a hiking trip before she ventures off the path. Trisha, lost in the heart of a forest with only a couple of snacks, some water, and her Gameboy and her Walkman, Trisha is a survivalist who puts all the great names to shame…and she’s 9 years old. Conserving her food and water, following the stream in the hopes of finding civilization, Trisha takes every little piece of information she knows and puts it toward her rational, logical mission to get home. That would be all well and good if she didn’t encounter creatures in that forest that defy all understanding completely. There is no denying that Trisha is a hero. Hallucinations, bears, supernatural phenomena, and divorcing parents – nothing can beat her down or ever, ever make her give up. Just liker her own hero, she knocks it out of the park. Trisha McFarland is testament to the will and perseverance of young girls; they are truly unstoppable. With Trisha we remember that courage, bravery, and determination aren’t just nice qualities to have, but they can save lives – even and especially our own. You don’t mind that a nine year old is teaching you about life and guts and guile because it’s clear that she knows best. Trisha reminds us that too often young girls are underestimated, and she will not stand for it.

There are so many more – Rose Daniels, Wendy Torrance, Susan Norton. To cover them all would be to tread ground that I encourage you to traverse yourself. Each character will have a different place in different hearts, and that’s the great thing about them. You get to decide what they mean to you, and for that, I think, we owe Stephen King a debt of gratitude.