Honestly one of the best Stephen King books I’ve read! The gradual build up in tension to the horrific conclusion is masterful, the prose scattered with memoir entries from a “survivor”, and research papers, and police reports, and interviews… If you didn’t know how it ended like I did from seeing the 70’s movie adaptation (incredible by the way) then you’d be constantly exasperated, clawing your way to the end of the book just to know what on Earth Carrie White did that justifies all this! Yet still, even though I knew her demise and everyone’s I was so excited reading every page. An absolute masterclass is horror writing.

Carrie was one of his first books and personally Is my favourite. Id recommend to anyone starting to read Stephen King. Her story is so sad and is written in a way that makes you sympathise with her.

My TBR pile is currently grumbling fairly loudly at me but I couldn’t let the 50th anniversary of Carrie’s introduction to the world pass without a reread. I was twelve years old when I was introduced to Carrie White. A major departure from The Baby-Sitters Club, which I’d been reading prior, this was my gateway book to the Kingdom, and horror in general. Carrie wasn’t the first telekinetic person I’d met. It was Carrie, though, who taught me righteous anger. Our high school experiences were nothing alike, yet I related to Carrie, this hurt, wronged girl railing against injustice. The angry part of preteen me found her scorched-earth approach appealing. There are a few people who knew me when I was a teenager that should be very grateful my telekinesis never kicked in. She appealed to the outsider in me, who spent high school and a significant amount of time afterwards trying to find someone who could understand me. Carrie was the first hero/villain I cheered on as they unleashed hell on those who had hurt them and the randoms whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Over thirty years after my first read and several rereads later, my love for Carrie - the book and the person - remains as strong as ever. If anything, I appreciate her even more now.

My TBR pile is currently grumbling fairly loudly at me but I couldn’t let the 50th anniversary of Carrie’s introduction to the world pass without a reread. I was twelve years old when I was introduced to Carrie White. A major departure from The Baby-Sitters Club, which I’d been reading prior, this was my gateway book to the Kingdom, and horror in general. Carrie wasn’t the first telekinetic person I’d met. It was Carrie, though, who taught me righteous anger. Our high school experiences were nothing alike, yet I related to Carrie, this hurt, wronged girl railing against injustice. The angry part of preteen me found her scorched-earth approach appealing. There are a few people who knew me when I was a teenager that should be very grateful my telekinesis never kicked in. She appealed to the outsider in me, who spent high school and a significant amount of time afterwards trying to find someone who could understand me. Carrie was the first hero/villain I cheered on as they unleashed hell on those who had hurt them and the randoms whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Over thirty years after my first read and several rereads later, my love for Carrie - the book and the person - remains as strong as ever. If anything, I appreciate her even more now.