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1090 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published September 15, 1986
”For 27 years, I dreamt of you. I missed you. I craved you.”
We all float down here.
"Maybe there aren't any such things as good friends or bad friends - maybe there are just friends, people who stand by you when you're hurt and who help you feel not so lonely. Maybe they're always worth being scared for, and hoping for, and living for. Maybe worth dying for too, if that's what has to be. No good friends. No bad friends. Only people you want, need to be with; people who build their houses in your heart."
“And almost idly, in a kind of side-thought, Eddie discovered one of his childhood’s great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.”
“We lie best when we lie to ourselves.”
“And maybe, Richie thought, that's the scary part. How you didn't stop being a kid all at once, with a big explosive bang, like one of that clown's trick balloons. The kid in you just leaked out, like the air of a tire.”
“[…] It occurred to him that kids were better at almost dying, and they were also better at incorporating the inexplicable into their lives. They believed implicitly in the invisible world. Miracles both bright and dark were to be taken into consideration, oh yes, most certainly, but they by no means stopped the world. A sudden upheaval of beauty or terror at ten did not preclude an extra cheesedog or two for lunch at noon.
But when you grew up, all that changed. You no longer lay awake in your bed, sure something was crouching in the closet or scratching at the window ... but when something did happen, something beyond rational explanation, the circuits overloaded. The axons and dendrites got hot. You started to jitter and jive, you started to shake rattle and roll, your imagination started to hop and bop and do the funky chicken all over your nerves. You couldn’t just incorporate what had happened into your life experience. It didn’t digest. Your mind kept coming back to it, pawing it lightly like a kitten with a ball of string ... until eventually, of course, you either went crazy or got to a place where it was impossible for you to function.”
“I loved you guys, you know.
I loved you so much.”
“Or so Bill Denbrough sometimes thinks on those early mornings after dreaming, when he almost remembers his childhood, and the friends with whom he shared it.”
«The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years - if it ever did end - began, so far as I know or can tell, with a boat made from a sheet of newspaper floating down a gutter swollen with rain»
It is an horror novel. The bowels of Derry, Maine, cyclically regurgitate every 27 years a dark and abject entity, infecting the city with hate, feeding on the fear of people (or directly some people flesh-and-blood).
It is an adventure novel. Seven clumsy kids band together after a tragedy. They have in common a pretty unhappy life. "The Losers Club" borns that way, and this is their story. Stephen King already did a practice run with The Body, but this time he tops himself.
It is a drama novel. The lost youth of a handful of a bunch of 12- year-olds, forced to give up their innocence to make room to a still-green sense of right and duty. The renewed fears of grownups not completely grow up, plunging down once again to the depths of despair.
And yet: It is a novel about friendship and solidarity, It is a novel about violence with violent stories of bullying and alcoholism, It is novel about redemption. It is a fantasy novel, a gothic novel, a coming-of-age story. It is a novel with a first-class style of writing, never boring. It is a novel that should be read two times, once as a kid and again as an adult, wearing the protagonist's skin as role-playing, and luckily I did. And after two readings, surely followed by a third one in the future, I can only express my thanks, as a reader, for the opportunity to read this wonder.
Evil just keeps on coming, it always does. The important thing is Good is ready each time to greet it properly. Kicking its arse.
«Il terrore che sarebbe durato per ventotto anni, ma forse anche di più, ebbe inizio, per quel che mi è dato sapere e narrare, con una barchetta di carta di giornale che scendeva lungo un marciapiede in un rivolo gonfio di pioggia»
Romanzo dell'orrore, questo It. Le viscere di Derry, nel Maine, rigurgitano ciclicamente ogni 27 anni un'entità nera e abietta che infetta d'odio il luogo che ha scelto a propria dimora, cibandosi delle paure degli abitanti (oltre che di qualche abitante stesso in carne ed ossa).
Romanzo d'avventura, questo It. Sette ragazzini un po' imbranati fanno gruppo in seguito ad una tragedia. Hanno in comune una vita piuttosto infelice. Nasce così il "Club dei Perdenti", e questa è la loro storia. Le prove generali Stephen King le aveva fatte con "Il Corpo" (The Body), ma qui si supera.
Romanzo drammatico questo It. La perduta giovinezza di un pugno di dodicenni, costretti ad abbandonare la spensieratezza per far posto ad un ancora acerbo senso del dovere e del giusto. Le paure rinnovate di adulti mai cresciuti fino in fondo, che si trovano di nuovo a sprofondare nell'abisso della disperazione.E ancora: romanzo dell'amicizia e della solidarietà, romanzo violento con storie violente di bullismo e alcolismo, romanzo del riscatto. Romanzo fantasy, romanzo gotico, romanzo di formazione. Romanzo dalla scrittura sopraffina, che non ti annoia mai. Romanzo che andrebbe letto due volte, sia da ragazzi che da adulti, per calarsi nei panni dei personaggi come un gioco di ruolo ed apprezzarlo all'inverosimile, ed io per fortuna l'ho fatto. E dopo due letture, alle quali farà sicuramente seguito una terza, posso solo ringraziare, in qualità di lettore, di avere avuto la possibilità di leggere questo prodigio.
Prima o poi il male ritorna, lo fa sempre. L'importante è che ci sia il bene ad accoglierlo come si conviene. A calci in culo.