From a Buick 8 - Stephen King

In the months after Curtis Wilcox's death, his son Ned spends more and more time around the police barracks among his dad's old colleagues. When he discovers the vintage Buick Roadmaster locked up in Shed B, naturally Ned is curious. But what is inside that shed is no mere car...

From A Buick 8 feels rather like a classic ghost story, the sort told around a campfire by torchlight. It is set out as a story within a story, with the narrator Sandy reporting to the reader the tale he had previously related to Ned. This framing device took me a while to get used to, working out which later of storytelling I was reading at any one time, but it means we get to take our cues from seeing Ned's reaction to the things he is told and shown - and from Sandy's thoughts about Ned's response. This also sets up the final act in the present day.

When I started reading, although I enjoyed getting to know the police team of Troop D, I felt that it was taking a long time to really get started. 150 pages or so in, all the Buick had to show for itself was a perfectly shiny condition, mechanisms that couldn't possibly work, a couple of missing people and a localised lightning storm in the shed. Eventually it became apparent that the car was some sort of portal to another world or dimension, a two-way door. People would disappear in its vicinity, and then a few unearthly creatures or plants appeared after the lightning phenomena, and would promptly die. There is something Lovecraftian in the things that appeared from the Buick, horrifying in their strangeness but I didn't feel overly impressed with the novel as a supernatural tale of terror.

But partway through, I realised, this isn't what it's really about. I ought to know better by now. Although Stephen King is known for his horror stories, what makes him stand out above the rest is everything else, the humanity. From A Buick 8 isn't really about a creepy car, or creatures from another world. It's about family: the families we're born into and the family we make for ourselves. It's about grief, and curiosity, camaraderie and a shared history, about the life of a police troop over a lifetime, and about the connectedness of events. Nothing happens in a vacuum, but life is made up of "links in a chain." Conversely, King reminds us that even so, real life does not work out into a neat little narrative. The world doesn't always give you the answers, and given the cops' reaction to the Buick and its mysteries, I wonder if the message to take away is that we couldn't handle the answers if we were given them.

From A Buick 8 was not one of King's more famous books, and I came to it without any prior knowledge or preconceptions. Certainly it is no Carrie or The Shining - but neither, thankfully, is it a Dreamcatcher. If you come to it expecting a fast-paced, action-packed thriller, you may be disappointed, but if you accept it for what it is - a pensive, brooding examination of storytelling - it's well worth a read.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season 4

Season 3 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer concluded with Buffy and her friends graduating with style, putting high school behind them with all the finality anyone could wish for, burning the school to the ground. Season 4 moves into a brand new stage of life. Buffy, Willow and Oz are off to college, Cordelia, I gather, has vanished over to the other side with Angel (though I haven't watched his series) and Xander is trying to figure out just what he wants to do with his life. As well as graduating from high school, Buffy has decided she no longer needs a Watcher telling her what to do. Giles is still there to advise her, but thankfully there are no more of the arguments about whether or not a Slayer can live an ordinary life.

Buffy: "I'm going to do a thing.
Giles: "You can't do the thing. You're the Slayer."
Buffy: "I never get to do the thing. It's not fair."
Giles: "It might not be fair, but you have a sacred duty. No doing of the thing, not for you."
Buffy: *sulks* *does the thing anyway* *chaos and disaster ensues.*

Now Buffy has to juggle university life, her slayer duties the other side of town, and a brand-new boyfriend, the decent but dull Riley Finn, an older student and member of a top-secret government monster-fighting initiative.

There were some great episodes in season four, but I have to say I wasn't wildly interested in the main plot about the Initiative and the Frankenstein's monster they created. It was all very military and clinical, and I didn't feel that the monster, Adam, was really worthy of being the series' Big Bad. He came across more of a monster-of-the-week. For a while I wondered if Riley might be the ultimate villain; surely someone that bland must have hidden depths. But no. I suppose Buffy does really need someone ordinary and nice in her life. Her boyfriends can't all be tormented vampires. She needs a break and can't always be mixing business and pleasure.

Spike is back in this season, captured by the Initiative and tamed by an implant in his head that means he is unable to harm any human. This new, de-fanged Spike is hilarious to watch: whiny and petty, and constantly frustrated that Buffy and her friends keep on asking for his help. How come they keep forgetting that they are mortal enemies, he hates them and wants to see them dead?

Once again, Joss Whedon managed to take everything I loved and smash it into tiny little pieces in episode six, in which Oz discovers another werewolf in town, and is faced with the terrible dilemma of either letting her run free killing people on the full moon... or betray Willow. The episode goes to great pains to show a true and loving relationship that really ought to be able to survive the strain of jealousy - but the werewolf thing is too much, and Oz leaves town, unable to trust what he might do under the curse of the full moon. Alyson Hannigan's acting is devastating. Poor, poor Willow. (And poor Oz.) Her heartbreak is so painful to watch, and rings so true to anyone who's been on the wrong end of being dumped: denial, bitterness, anger. And there was another level to the sadness from a viewer's point of view, when I noticed Seth Green had gone from the title credits. He really had left, then.

But not for good. Be careful what you wish for around Joss Whedon, because he is an evil mastermind and will give it to you in the most painful way possible: Oz returns once more just as Willow is getting cutely awkward with Tara, a shy girl from her college witchcraft club (the only other witch who practises actual magic instead of talking about "energy" and "auras" and the like. Well... as well as talking about energy and auras.) Oz returns and wants to pick up where he's left off, but Willow isn't in the same place any more. She loves Oz... but she also loves Tara. EVERYTHING IS HORRIBLE. This is what love triangles are like: everyone gets hurt and it is ugly and not in the least bit romantic. CURSE YOU WHEDON!!!!!

All through season 4, I felt that something was a bit off with the storytelling, or the characters: it felt wrong. It was difficult to pin down, but the Scooby gang just didn't feel so much fun to be with any more. The banter was off, the chemistry wasn't the same, they didn't feel so much like a team, but a set of individuals whose stories didn't quite mesh together as well as they used to. And in the last few episodes, it becomes clear that this is a crucial part of the narrative. It is some very subtle storytelling, a commentary on how friendships do sometimes grow apart in a new stage of life, whether that be in college, or when some people get married and start families, or move to different places. But it also builds towards the series finale, in which Spike uses his observations about the characters' insecurities and the widening rift between them, as an attempt to separate Buffy from her friends so that the creature Adam can use and defeat her. A very clever long game - and quite a brave decision to sabotage the overall feel of the show in order to tell a greater story. Of course Spike and Adam don't succeed, and the Initiative storyline is wrapped up with one more episode to go.

Wait, what? That's not how it's meant to happen. Every season of every TV show ever has to end on an epic finale, when the bad guys are defeated, the plot strands are pulled together and everything makes sense, leaving the viewer feeling happy and contented in the knowledge that the writers delivered on their promise. How can they finish a series-long story and then tack one more episode on the end? A standalone is never going to live up to a twenty-odd-episode story, right?

Personally, I love it when writers break the rules of storytelling. Dollhouse (also a Whedon project) was another series which finished the first season too early, and the season finale, "Epitaph One" showed a terrifying flash-forward into an apocalyptic future. So I went into the real finale of Buffy season 4 with some trepidation. What did it have in store?

Well, I can safely say, I was not expecting that. The last episode, "Restless" is probably the most surreal thing I have ever seen on a mainstream television show ever. It takes place almost entirely in dreams, and is far more like real dreams than any dream sequence you will ever see on TV; a mixture of character psychology, foreshadowing and complete nonsense. Picking through the images and dialogue, it's tricky trying to figure out what is going to be significant in the future, what was significant only for that episode, and what can be discarded. We see each of the main characters' fears and insecurities played out in symbolic scenes: Willow, for example, dreaming of being back at high school, and going to her first drama class to find that she was expected to act in a play she had never rehearsed in front of everyone she knew. (I've had that one.) Then, there is this supernatural element in the form of the first Slayer, whose spirit was apparently invoked in Buffy's last battle against Adam in what would ordinarily be the season finale.

In Buffy's dream, there was a bed. Just an ordinary, unmade white bed, and I suddenly remembered several episodes back, she had another dream, wherein she and Faith were making up the same bed. Actually, I remember it as part of Faith's coma-dream. What's going on there? I forgot it, as it didn't lead to anything in that particular storyline. I think Faith said something about "Li'l sis is coming." And then, right at the end of the episode, when the Scoobies have all woken from their nightmares, Buffy walks into a room in her house... and the final image is of that bed. As Buffy would say, "it gave me the wiggins." Who would think a simple piece of furniture would have that power? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? (Don't you dare actually tell me.)

I scribbled down some of the lines that stood out from the weirdness as having an air of foreboding.

"Time is running out."

"I'm never gonna find them here."

and, most significantly:

"You think you know... what's to come... what you are... you haven't even begun."

I think that just about sums it up!

Best episodes

6. Wild at Heart. Oh Willow! Oh Oz! Oh, my heart! This was so upsetting and well-written and brilliant and human and upsetting.
7. Initiative. In which Buffy and Riley work at hilarious cross-purposes, both trying to get the other one out of the way so that they can fight the monsters. A scene which shows Spike attempting to vampire Willow rapidly switches from disturbing to very funny, very quickly.
9. Something Blue. Another comic episode, in which Willow casts a spell to make everything she says come true, with hilarious results.
10. Hush. In which the entire town of Sunnydale is struck mute. A gimmick episode, done very well, in the style of a silent movie. A shame it wasn't made in black and white.
15/16. This Year's Girl/Who Are You?: Faith returns! A far more dynamic storyline than the Top Secret Government Organisation plot, which felt quite cold and un-Buffyish. Also: BODYSWAP! Sarah Michelle Geller and Eliza Dushku do an uncanny job of playing each other's roles. I wonder if that was why Eliza Dushku later got the lead in Dollhouse.
17. Superstar: HUH? Did I miss something? Suddenly, Jonathan, a recurring extra who got promoted to supporting character in one episode near the end of season three, is a Slaying mastermind. And promoted to credits. And appearing everywhere, in the background of every shot. Something is off here. The world has changed, but no one seems to have noticed. This time we are plonked into an alternative universe without being told we're in an alternative universe! (I had figured it out before it was spelled out.) Very clever premise, and a lot of fun.
19. New Moon Rising: Be careful what you wish for. My favourite character returned, and I wish he didn't. Everything is horrible.
22. Restless. The aforementioned dream episode. Mind. Blown. Also, what is going on with the man with the cheese?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J. K. Rowling

Pottermania has been abounding in the last couple of weeks with the run-up to the final film in the series, which premiered in London on Thursday. I watched some of the live coverage, and when Alan Rickman turned up, I couldn't help singing, "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape!" from the Potter Puppet Pals online video, "A Mysterious Ticking Noise," and the tune which has popped into my head as a sort of leitmotif for Snape whenever he turned up in the books. So I nearly fell off my chair when, a couple of seconds later, I could make out what the crowd were chanting.

So, I may or may not have been persuaded to go along to the midnight showing of the final film on Thursday night/Friday morning. I've never been one for midnight anything. I'm too fond of my sleep. Instead of visibly succumbing to the Pottermania with the book releases and queuing at the bookshops, I got up early to buy my copy. But this is my last chance. It remains to be seen whether I might dress up... Expect a Movie Monday review next week.

In a way, I envy the next generation of kids. With Pottermania so strong over the last few years, I doubt there are many people who haven't read the books, seen the films or at least had important parts of the story told to them. When the fuss has begun to die down, and a new readership comes along, I envy them the opportunity to read the books unspoiled, not knowing what to expect, like (most of) my experience. But just in case there are readers who don't yet know the whole story, be warned:

This review may contain spoilers for book 7; definitely contains spoilers for books 1-6.

After six books whose major events fit into a neat little routine - Something slightly odd happening in the school holidays, a return to school, slow revelation that something odder is taking place in or out of the school, several mysteries to solve throughout the year building to a climax just before the summer holidays - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows breaks the pattern by not sending Harry, Ron and Hermione back to Hogwarts at all. Instead, the trio set out on their own to search for and destroy He Who Must Not Be Named's horcruxes - a collection of objects to which the Dark Lord has attached portions of his soul in his search for immortality. Considering that Harry has only the vaguest idea of what these objects might be, and no clue where in the country - or the world! - You-Know-Who has hidden them or how to destroy them, this is no easy feat.

Sometimes, in fantasy quests, the world seems very small indeed, and the near-impossible achievable with unrealistic efforts. This is averted in most of Deathly Hallows, which portrays the tensions that rise when three people are living in close quarters, away from the rest of civilisation, embarking on a hopeless quest - especially when they have as a companion a little piece of the most evil wizard of all time, shut into a locket. in addition, because the trio are no longer at school, the plot no longer has to fit into a single academic year. It does, but it's equally possible that it could take years.

After a brief respite in Half-Blood Prince, the Ministry of Magic stands once more against Harry, this time because of its being infiltrated by You-Know-Who's Death Eaters who are terrifying the rest of the ministry into submission through threat and force. Thankfully, as Harry and co spend much of the book out of contact with other wizards, the sense of oppression is less intrusive, and though we do see the horrible Umbridge again, she plays a much smaller part.

Although Deathly Hallows is exactly the same length as its predecessor, it feels like many books in one, with more action, more varied scene changes as the heroes apparate across the country, visiting friends, London, forests in the middle of nowhere, wizarding settlements, more middle-of-nowhere, wizarding businesses, being captured and escaping and eventually winding up back at Hogwarts school after all. Add to this Harry's visions back in and out of Voldemort's mind, and I wonder how this much story can be packed into just over 600 pages. No wonder Warner Brothers chose to make this story into two films instead of just one.

As if this weren't enough, we find out a lot more about Albus Dumbledore's youth, where it is revealed that the wise old wizard was not so infallible as we'd previously been led to believe. Indeed, the man had spent his whole life trying to atone for a tragic mistake from his youth. And at last, the true character of one of children's literature's most complex anti-heroes is revealed: the enigmatic Severus Snape.

I stand in awe of J. K. Rowling's storytelling, for Harry Potter's story is made from so many strands of plot and subplot, but Rowling does not lose a single thread, weaving them together perfectly in this finally installment. Everything is significant, nothing is left dangling, Rowling is truly the master of her craft. The saga culminates in an epic battle at Hogwarts which is a bit of a family reunion, reintroducing forgotten faces and old favourites. But it is rather a bloodbath! We are forced to bid farewell to some beloved characters, for in war, no one is guaranteed immunity. There were two characters, just two, that I thought were safe (and neither of them were Harry.) I was proven wrong, and it is just one cruel, devastating loss.

If the Horcrux quest seemed a little too conveniently resolved, and if the wand-politics at the end are confusing, these are small criticisms when compared to the rest of the finale. The final showdowns - for there is more than one - are poignant, beautifully written and epic, and a couple of unexpected characters get moments which I fully expect to raise a cheer in the cinemas. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is an utterly satisfying conclusion to this wonderful series that has captured the hearts and imaginations of children of all ages. While rereading the series, I have been fully absorbed both while reading it and when I was not, and it's strange to have finished it now. Roll on Thursday midnight!