Originally written in the late 1970s with a lot of pessimism in the air, the revised and rather massive 'original' version published in 1990 might meet the mood of the late naughties just as well.

This book is why King will never be 'great' but will always be read - like Conan Doyle. This has all the King themes except for the clowns, though the theme of the rictus grin on the face of the bad guy and the trickster element suggests that this archetype is central to the King world view.

It is peculiarly American - not just the small town values and the contrast of decent Boulder and indecent Las Vegas but the Baptist biblical mythology that merges with Southern Gothic ravens that say 'nevermore' and New England Lovecraftian themes. This is cosmic horror and grim, very grim indeed.

The paradox of this book is that many Europeans will see it confirming a view that God is not worth the time of day for the suffering he puts people through, just as bad as the other guy, whereas many Americans will see it as a pessimistic acceptance and even affirmation of old time faith. Mother Abigail, however, personally creeps me out as much as Randall Flagg.

The author is cleverly ambiguous - not allowing bursts of rage against God to set the agenda and noting Job as exemplar. Not what most of us in the UK might find naturally comprehensible but this book will be a more useful guide to America than reading Henry James.

It is too big a book in themes and words to justice to in a brief review. If it gets only four stars rather than five it is because, while King can tell a story, the inner lives of his heroes and heroines often seem stereotypical, what you would expect from the writers of HBO movies rather than writers of great literature.

But at least he tries to give them an inner life which is more than most of his predecessors as popular fiction writers ever did. As with all good popular writers, I was hooked within a few pages.