Misery: the horror found in excessive expectations.
The fear of failed expectations often drudges up a sense of misery. In Stephen King’s book titled “Misery,” readers are welcomed to the world of a writer unable to shed what is expected of him for what he actually wants to write about, providing a clear allegory for how sudden success strips one of individual agency in life, confining them to only what made them successful, to begin with.
“Misery” follows the life of Paul Sheldon after he finishes his new novel titled “Fast Cars.” To celebrate, he has a few drinks and starts driving through Colorado. Sheldon never ends up at his intended location. Instead, due to a snowstorm, he crashes and is subsequently taken in by his biggest fan, Annie Wilkes. His broken legs and the snowstorm render him a prisoner to Annie, and quickly she learns he’s finished writing the series that brought him all his fame as a writer. The melodramatic Misery Chastain series that brought Paul his fame is over — he killed off Misery, and he’s happy about it. However, Annie, his biggest fan, is not. She doesn’t appreciate his sudden turn as a writer. She wants Misery, and to get it, she goes to extraordinary lengths, ensuring Paul writes what “he’s good at.”
“He had discovered that there was not just one God but many, and some were more than cruel — they were insane, and that changed all. Cruelty, after all, was understandable. With insanity, however, there was no arguing.”
Annie, though terrifying psychotic throughout King’s novel, represents fans or consumers of any type. They find an artist, celebrity, or athlete and latch onto them for better or for worse. The consumers admire the troubled artists, or difficult athletes, or brooding celebrities for their genius. As consumers, they curate an idea of how the person they idolize should act. It’s in the consumers’ mind that the quality of the artist, or athlete, or celebrity’s consciousness is decided. Due to the elevated viewpoint in which consumers perceive those they idolize, that artist, athlete, or celebrity is held captive to who they were when they first found fame. They are held prisoner to the very thing that brought them success.
No longer are those elevated granted the freedom to evolve and change. Instead, they are held prisoner to the very success they initially coveted.
They are told, do what you’re good at. Keep milking the cash cow.
Through King, readers can understand the fear of an artist yearning for change but held captive by what made them successful. That’s what makes “Misery” so uncomfortable. Annie doesn’t seem so crazy when perceived through the lens of a clamoring fan base eager for more of the same from the individual they chose to idolize.
“They wanted Misery, Misery, Misery. Each time he had taken a year or two off to write one of his other novels — what he thought of as his ‘serious’ work with what was at first certainty and then hope and finally a species of grim desperation — he had received a flood of protesting letters from these women, many of whom signed themselves ‘your number-one fan.’ The tone of these letters varied from bewilderment, to reproach, to outright anger, but the message was always the same: It wasn’t what I expected, it wasnt what I wanted. Please go back to Misery. I want to know what Misery is doing! He could write a modern Under the Volcano, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, The Sound and the Fury; it wouldnt matter. They would still want Misery, Misery, Misery.”
In turn, Paul’s growing concern at the hands of Annie provides an empathetic window into the fear and mind of someone thrust into public life. Stars and artists don’t seek to be idolized as their primary goal; they want their art to be remembered. King represents that well through his constant display of Paul’s insecurity as a writer and his frustration over the constant longing for Misery Chastain. He wants to show the world he can write something else. He is more than a melodramatic romance author. Paul Sheldon begs the world to pay attention to his serious writing while also understanding that Misery Chastain exists to pay his bills. She exists to fund his serious writing. However, when he tries to kill off that series, Annie Wilkes — much like social expectations and pressure— arrives to force more of the same out of Paul, yet again.
“Annie Wilkes was the perfect audience, a woman who loved stories without having the slightest interest in the mechanics of making them. She was the embodiment of that Victorian archetype, Constant Reader.”
The uncomfortable truth found in Stephen King’s “Misery” is that there is a little Annie Wilkes in everyone. All have fallen victim to the idolization of someone they deem as a genius. Through constant idolization, one curates an idea of that person instead of seeing them for who they are and what they are in the moment. Artists in the public eye are imperfect, and much like any other human, they are free to change. To appreciate someone's art does not mean one imprisons them to that moment forever.
Annie Wilkes was psychotic. Her obsession over the idolized image of Paul Sheldon didn’t help. Still, Annie Wilkes represents the consumer expectation-driven market surrounding art. It’s through these societal expectations that one sees a watered-down appreciation of the process and the obsession solely over the results. Art’s merit is found in the process, but when expectations drive what version of art is created, in the end, it leaves everyone unsatisfied.
“A little talent is a nice thing to have if you want to be a writer, but the only real requirement is the ability to remember the story of every scar. Art consists of the persistence of memory.”
