The Gunslinger - Stephen King I don't really know what to say after reading this book. Stephen King has evoked a myriad of different emotions in me, stretching the gamut from awe to complete lack of interest. On one hand, I devoured this book in two sittings as King led me by the nose along behind the gunslinger, dangling before my eyes the anticipation of more glimpses of our hero's past; the why of the world's strange condition - a world so familiar to our own yet obviously alien in that alternate timestream way; and of course, the final confrontation between him and his black clad nemesis. However, on the other hand, when the journey was finished and the ending read, all I felt was . . . a big so what.

Perhaps that sounds disrespectful of me, but honestly, I enjoyed the book. However, even as I sit here typing this, my final thoughts, on The Gunslinger, all I keep asking myself is why. A gunslinger blazes down a whole town population, almost dies while crossing a barren wasteland, braves the blackest, mountain tunnels and phosphorescent mutants, sacrifices a young boy whom he professes to love and other just as horrible events before our chronicle even begins, and at the end of all this, he just sits around a camp fire with his professed evil enemy, discussing philosophical musings of the size of eternity. And ten years pass by in one night. Really? Roland went through all this horror to chat it up with the sorceror who helped ruin his whole family and world. Honestly? This isn't a joke? I keep thinking that my book had the wrong ending even though I know that such a thought is ridiculous. But that is how I still feel about it.

Which leads me to my final thought: do I even want to read the next book in this series? I can't decide, because even though the ending did not suit my palate the journey was delightful. Most likely, I'll let this book settle for a while then pick up the next, but I dearly hope the ending is more satisfying. Otherwise, I can conitnue my life without ever finding the Dark Tower.