It takes a couple of hundred pages for the weirdness to get started, and the sense of the uncanny pervading the entire novel means that the more horrifying elements fail to surprise when they eventually arrive. He has always understood that the mystery – the question – is scarier than finding out the truth. The supernatural elements have more than a little in common with some of King’s most beloved creations, especially in the vague way he conveys what they actually are. A well-researched, finely tuned crime-cum-legal case novel forms a good chunk of the book. The story switches from King’s graceful head-hopping third-person narrative to a transcript of official statements from key personnel in the prosecution’s case, a formal change that nods to the statements and newspaper extracts King used throughout his debut, Carrie. King’s premise is so engaging that there’s a bit of a downshift in enjoyment when the mystery section turns into suspense, and then again when suspense turns to action. All of these strengths are enough to offset some of the book’s weaker qualities.

Old-school fans who prefer his down-and-dirty-pillows work to his more literary output will greet this as one of his strongest in years. At the same time, here is the creepy King we grew up with, his grindhouse instincts firmly intact. He may be tilling genre ground that’s similar to early blockbusters like Pet Sematary and It, but he’s doing so with the patience and maturity that’s marked the elder statesman stage of his career. What’s remarkable and deeply pleasurable about the book is the way King slowly builds this world out. The Outsider is in many ways a throwback novel, a creature feature that seems ripped from his ’80s heyday, his pulpiest book since perhaps Cell, but a work undeniably founded in today’s fears.

Stephen kings the outsider