under the dome

I waited half a year for this book. Powerbooks had this on hardcover last January, and I waited for someone to give this to me as a birthday gift... then Valentine... then anniversary. No luck. I figured I had to buy it for myself. Then it went out of stock.



Last week, I saw this in National Bookstore. Paperback. It was the display copy, and the salesladies weren't sure when the next delivery would be. I happily grabbed it, missed my lunch devouring the first few pages, and finished the whole book over the weekend.



It reminded me of The Simpsons Movie, where their whole town was enclosed by a dome (engineered by the government) because it was so badly polluted it was toxic. Then the government decided to blow the whole town out of existence, and of course Bart and Homer Simpson eventually saved the day.



Under The Dome was no kids' story. The dome came down inexplicably, and of course the town of Chester's Mill underwent some drastic changes. Our heroes, an ex-soldier, three computer whiz kids, a lady reporter, and a few others, sought to discover what made the dome (and how to get rid of it, if possible) while battling an evil town selectman.

It is a horror story, but not of the kind that has zombies, vampires, and things that go bump in the night (and perhaps eat you). In the situation of Chester's Mill, the horror came from what happened to ordinary people inside the dome. Alongside those who became heroes, there were people who killed themselves, who killed others, who went crazy.

There was Junior Rennie. He killed two women, hid them in a pantry, and helped hide two more bodies there. But he met two lost children while on patrol, and he was very gentle with them. He made sure they were alright and that there was someone to take care of them. In the end, as he was losing himself, he remembered the children and wanted to keep them safe.

And that's the real horror, isn't it? That we never know how black a man's heart is-- even our own-- until he comes face to face with it. I think there is a blackness in every heart, a germ, a seed. Most of us keep it tucked away, and it lies there sleeping. But in some, it takes root. If you water it a little, why, it flourishes. And it blossoms hate. Sometimes it bears black fruit, perhaps called murder. When it is very ripe, it bursts open and spreads its poison. The blackness clouds the brain, and by the time it clears again, we would have done something regrettable.

A wise man, once he recognizes that the seed has become very comfortable in his heart, would perhaps keep it pruned, to trim away the poison. And he learns to live with it. It is there, like a dark twin of all the kind intentions, all the goodness a man is capable of being, but he is master of both.

It's what makes the story a good story. You recognize the emotions there, it reminds us how fragile life really is, it shows us how powerful the mind is. It gives you a glimpse of black hearts.

It forces us to say hello to the monsters inside us.