Stephen Edwin King was born the second son of Donald and Nellie Ruth Pillsbury King. After his father left them when Stephen was two, he and his older brother, David, were raised by his mother. Parts of his childhood were spent in Fort Wayne, Indiana, where his father's family was at the time, and in Stratford, Connecticut. When Stephen was eleven, his mother brought her children back to Durham, Maine, for good. Her parents, Guy and Nellie Pillsbury, had become incapacitated with old age, and Ruth King was persuaded by her sisters to take over the physical care of them. Other family members provided a small house in Durham and financial support. After Stephen's grandparents passed away, Mrs. King found work in the kitchens of Pineland, a nearby residential facility for the mentally challenged.
Stephen attended the grammar school in Durham and Lisbon Falls High School, graduating in 1966. From his sophomore year at the University of Maine at Orono, he wrote a weekly column for the school newspaper, THE MAINE CAMPUS. He was also active in student politics, serving as a member of the Student Senate. He came to support the anti-war movement on the Orono campus, arriving at his stance from a conservative view that the war in Vietnam was unconstitutional. He graduated in 1970, with a B.A. in English and qualified to teach on the high school level. A draft board examination immediately post-graduation found him 4-F on grounds of high blood pressure, limited vision, flat feet, and punctured eardrums.
He met Tabitha Spruce in the stacks of the Fogler Library at the University, where they both worked as students; they married in January of 1971. As Stephen was unable to find placement as a teacher immediately, the Kings lived on his earnings as a laborer at an industrial laundry, and her student loan and savings, with an occasional boost from a short story sale to men's magazines.
Stephen made his first professional short story sale ("The Glass Floor") to Startling Mystery Stories in 1967. Throughout the early years of his marriage, he continued to sell stories to men's magazines. Many were gathered into the Night Shift collection or appeared in other anthologies.
In the fall of 1971, Stephen began teaching English at Hampden Academy, the public high school in Hampden, Maine. Writing in the evenings and on the weekends, he continued to produce short stories and to work on novels.
King is never going to give us the story about the Manhattan club, is he? Following up on the novella The Breathing Method from Different Seasons, King returns this alternate dimension(?) where Manhattan’s elite swap stories. George Gregson recounts the time he played a card game with Henry Bower, a man who would not shake hands. At the end of the game, Bower wins, and another player enthusiastically shakes his hand. Bowers screams, recoils, and leaves. Determined to solve the mystery (and give Bower his winnings), Gregson tries to track Bower down and learns that Bower has been cursed so that any living thing he touches dies. Gregson eventually finds Bower dead of suicide, hands clasped together.
It’s an interesting premise—sort of a play on Medusa—to be sure, but the practicalities sort of poke holes in everything. How had Bower gone this long without touching himself? What was the purpose of the curse? Why does this story take the same narrative structure as The Breathing Method? They’re obvious questions that King doesn’t even attempt to answer.
Expertly told story about a man who cannot touch any living thing. King's use of language is always very well-tuned toward bringing a reader into his stories, and this is a keen example of that.
Thematically, the story is about social outcasts. The narrator, unsurprisingly, is a man who has recently lost his wife and is really cut up about it, and who went through the first World War with the side-effect of becoming similar to those labelled the Lost Generation. From the story of Bromer, he learns about someone who has been systematically taken away from society, whilst being forced to exist in it; a foreigner to all, even himself. This awakens our protagonist from his slump, showing him that there is far worse than that which he has faced--for, of course, all his issues, from the dead wife, to WW1, are societal issues--and that thing is isolation.
This story, which is about a storyteller who takes too long to get to a predictable and ultimately unsatisfying ending, takes too long to get to a predictable and ultimately unsatisfying ending.
I first read this story in Skeleton Crew when I was in high school in the 80s. I decided to re-read it now on the occasion of the 40 year anniversary of its original publication.
This was good. At a private club in Manhattan, an elderly man named George Gregson recounts a card game he played many years ago where he met an odd man named Henry Brower who refused to touch anyone, recoiling from contact in fear. It's a short story of that man Henry. He got a dark past about him that he forever being haunted with it. Having a terrifying incident during his stay in Bombay, India it was from there he got the curse from a Indian shaman or say sorcerer. A short creepy I must say...At a private club in Manhattan, an elderly man named George Gregson recounts a card game he played many years ago where he met an odd man named Henry Brower who refused to touch anyone, recoiling from contact in fear. It's a short story of that man Henry. He got a dark past about him that he forever being haunted with it. Having a terrifying incident during his stay in Bombay, India it was from there he got the curse from a Indian shaman or say sorcerer. A short creepy I must say...
Four stars because I enjoyed the story, but it was a little predictable due to some light foreshadowing on the second page. It didn't spell anything out, but anyone with a bit of imagination who bothered to read the title and knows Stephen King's style will figure out what's coming right there without any trouble. So, if you're looking for surprise, you're probably not going to get it. The title character's backstory was also a little silly, but this was still an enjoyable read.
A basic and compelling story made needlessly convoluted by nesting too many stories within stories. This didn’t need to be in the form of a guy telling a story in which so many others tell stories. Too many names and layers, which subtract from readability. Otherwise it’s a good concept, executed well enough.
I didn't remember this story and I'm grateful for my dear friend Bert who suggested I read this one along with The Breathing Method. This is one of King's shorter short stories yet it evokes so much 3rd hand terror. Maybe some day SK will write some more stories from The Club.
Ghost stories and Scotch around the fireplace at a men's club in 1920'2 New York. Tales of previous poker games, a curse by an Indian holy man, and a man's damnation. Indiana Jones type tale with a barman who may have a nodding acquaintance with Grady from The Shining.
I really like these short stories with low stakes and a cool mystery. The structure, the poker game and the characters harmonize so well with each other to create an almost perfect mystery. I just didn't like the resolution that Brower was cursed, instead of leaving it more open-ended.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
It was an ok story. Nothing amazing. It revolves around a group of men playing cards. As the title of the story suggests the focal character has issues touching people, or, being touched on the hand.
I need to know more about this strange, mysterious private gentlemen's club. Especcialy Steven, the special butler. Both this story and Breathing Method are superb. 🔥
Great story, and I loved the perspective it was being told from. It just dragged on a bit, I don't care what cards are being dealt, I don't play poker.