“That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French” (1998)

I think this story by Stephen King may represent an interesting point in his career: the moment he went from being underrated to being overrated. From about this point on he started winning more and more serious literary awards and recognition. That’s no reflection on the story. It’s a good one. But it is some reflection on its publication in the New Yorker. I’m not sure it’s his first for that magazine and at this point it’s probably not his only. The premise is not particularly original—the French term in question is “déjà vu” and you might be able to imagine the rest—but it does show King’s deep knowledge of horror literature, resorting to a very nicely modulated stream of consciousness sort of attack. Start with the title, an actual line of dialogue which sets the whole dreamy tone. King has tried and failed with dreams before, but this is one that works. It saws away on familiar fears of flying but skillfully applies misdirection by making it a private rented jet, raising class resentments. The occasion is a middle-aged couple and their 25th wedding anniversary. The husband has made them comfortably wealthy. Perhaps they can be forgiven a little for splurging. These are details that emerge. The main arc of the story takes place on the road from the airport to the resort where they are staying. The woman is consumed by an extended experience of déjà vu. But she’s mostly wrong. She sees what is about to happen, or thinks she does, little things like the look of a mailbox around the next bend. Sometimes parts of it come true but usually not. It’s hard to know what to make of it. The story runs its route a few times: she wakes from a nap on the plane, and then the road to the resort. There is a gnawing dissatisfaction between them that is sad and sadder. The ending is something of a genuine surprise. It does not feel strained. We realize what has happened at almost exactly the same time as the woman. King plays perfectly fair, distributing clues but distracting us from them. It’s nicely done, with no gore and a minimum of mayhem. King has never stopped being prolific, and at my most recent check-in point, 2011’s 11/22/63, he was still in fine form. I follow booktubers reading him systematically with great interest because I’d like to narrow down his catalog after about 1990. I know I don’t like King enough to read all of it. But I like finding a little gem of his like this, because it gives me strength to contemplate taking on, say, the Dark Tower series.

The Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror: Twelfth Annual Collection, ed. Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling
Listen to story online.