Eighty percent of the sentences in this Stephen King novel, the concluding volume of a trilogy, are bad: mostly laden with cliches or hackneyed metaphors. The dialogue is cutesy to the point of being inhuman. And as in the other books in this series, King drains suspense away by having characters puzzling over incidents that the reader already understands. King was a lousy writer when I gave up on Salem's Lot decades ago after about 50 pages, and he's a lousy writer still.
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