Historically, King is at his best building stories with complex worlds, high stakes, many moving parts, and a cast of characters. In many cases, his tales are told through the eyes of a child. The Dark Tower, IT, and The Body are all a testament to King’s uncanny ability to get into the mind of a child and face overwhelming challenges from a tweenager perspective. But, in recent years, I’ve felt that King’s ability to connect with the younger generation is slipping.
For a 72 year old, that is hardly surprising. The world is transforming, technology is constantly evolving, politics have been disrupted, and children are changing. Kids are no longer confined to their bikes and suburban neighbourhoods. With the click of a button, a child can command an army of climate activists or troll a perceived nemesis to the point of suicide. In King’s recent works, I’ve been distracted by his apparent struggle to keep up. He attributes thoughts and words to his young characters that belong more in the 1950s than to 2000s. His attempts to grasp emerging technology are bumbling and a little embarrassing. In the same way King has struggled to connect to the younger generation, I’ve struggled to suspend my disbelief that a Baby Bomber trying to write as a spritely Gen Z.
Having said all that: I’m relieved to report that, in The Institute, King has mostly managed to re-discover his inner child. I wonder if his Grandchildren have helped him find his younger voice?
The Institute tells the story of a shady operation responsible for kidnapping children with unique talents and exploiting them. We are introduced to this nefarious world through the eyes of Luke: a brilliant child genius who occasionally accidently flips empty pizza pans over with his mind.
In The Institute, King has pulled together a treacherous tale of torture which had me hooked throughout (albeit uncomfortably, in this time of children caged in detention centres). It had the sort of good-vs-evil, heroic, self-sacrificing beats that made it feel like I was reading a thrilling movie, with a liberal dose of childhood friendship, first love, and overwhelming odds that made me truly care about the characters. I was particularly engaged by the bureaucratic failings described and the bastardised attempt to use a Jeremy Bentham-style argument to justify The Institute’s existence.
If you’re in the mood for some classic King to sink your mind in to, then I heartily recommend this book.
4 candy cigarettes out of 5.