Stephen King novels tend to have very Manichean cosmologies and The Stand is no exception: the survivors of a society-ruining plague have dreams of both an old woman who is clearly Very Good and a man who is A Demon, and have a choice of which one to make their way towards in post-apocalyptic America. Along the way, marvelous and intricate human drama happens, far more absorbing than the overarching battle between magic (good) and magic (evil).
The best of these is the failed redemption of Harold Lauder. These supernatural forces do work on him, but much of the drama is human. This post is, merely, my laying out his arc so you too can enjoy it without reading a 1000 page book.
Harold is sixteen, brilliant, horny, and wanted by no one. He’s fat, pimply, pretentious, meticulous, and writes weird short stories in the second person for his high school’s magazine. He develops a crush on the only other survivor in his town – Frances, his older sister’s best friend. They head towards a plague center he knows about (from doing lots of reading), and he paints updates on walls at every major stop for survivors who might want to join him.
He becomes possessive of her, and is ungracious when he ‘loses’ her to a newcomer who joins their group. He reads her diary (in which she has made many comments on his psychology, and feeling creeped out by him), and vows revenge.
The revenge entails… being a really good citizen so they never suspect him right until he kills a bunch of them!
In the process… he gains real acceptance and admiration for his enormous talent and initiative!!
It feels really good. So he ponders, momentarily, giving up the dynamite and stuff – before being seduced by a woman agent of the evil guy who lures him in with kinky sex. This is not a great move narratively, but I won’t complain about the kinky sex. It was actually pleasantly racy.
I think there are two really great parts:
First when the girl who rejected him is visited by a newcomer to the town in which they’ve settled. The newcomer says that he followed Harold’s painted directions, and is extremely impressed by Harold’s cleverness at every waypoint – things that the woman vaguely thought of as “Harold doing his thing and making water and gasoline appear” were huge deals to this other guy. He wants to visit Harold with a bottle of wine and effusive thanks. She points him at the right house, disoriented by her view of Harold the creepy pawing guy vs this guy’s understanding of Harold as a post apocalyptic role model
Second when Harold almost makes it off his downward spiral! The best page of the novel! (bolded mine)
“It’s a dirty job,” Norris said in a low, emotional voice. “You’re good men. I doubt if the rest of them will ever know just how good.”
Harold felt a sense of drawing-together, a camaraderie, and he fought against it, suddenly afraid. This was no part of the plan.
“See you tomorrow, Hawk,” Weizak said, and squeezed his shoulder.
Harold’s grin was startled and defensive. Hawk? What kind of joke was that? A bad one, of course. Cheap sarcasm. Calling fat, pimply Harold Lauder Hawk. He felt the old black hate rise, directed at Weizak this time, and then it subsided in sudden confusion. He wasn’t fat anymore. He couldn’t even properly be called stout. His pimples had vanished over the last seven weeks. Weizak didn’t know he had once been a school joke. Weizak didn’t know that Harold’s father had once asked him if he was a homosexual. Weizak didn’t know that Harold had been his popular sister’s cross to bear. And if he had known, Weizak probably wouldn’t have given a sweet shit.
Harold climbed into the back of one of the trucks, his mind churning helplessly. All of a sudden the old grudges, the old hurts, and the unpaid debts seemed as worthless as the paper money choking all the cash registers of America.
Could that be true? Could it possibly be true? He felt panicked, alone, scared. No, he decided at last. It couldn’t possibly be true. Because, consider. If you were strong-willed enough to be able to resist the low opinions of others, when they thought you were a queer, or an embarrassment, or just a plain old bag of shit, then you had to be strong-willed enough to resist…
Resist what?
Their good opinion of you?
Wasn’t that kind of logic … well, that kind of logic was lunacy, wasn’t it?
Oh, man, Harold. I have been (a little) where you are now, but I cannot pull you out.