Cell: A Novel

There's a reason cell rhymes with hell.

On October 1, God is in His heaven, the stock market stands at 10,140, most of the planes are on time, and Clayton Riddell, an artist from Maine, is almost bouncing up Boylston Street in Boston. He's just landed a comic book deal that might finally enable him to support his family by making art instead of teaching it. He's already picked up a small (but expensive!) gift for his long-suffering wife, and he knows just what he'll get for his boy Johnny. Why not a little treat for himself? Clay's feeling good about the future.

That changes in a hurry. The cause of the devastation is a phenomenon that will come to be known as The Pulse, and the delivery method is a cell phone. Everyone's cell phone. Clay and the few desperate survivors who join him suddenly find themselves in the pitch-black night of civilization's darkest age, surrounded by chaos, carnage, and a human horde that has been reduced to its basest nature...and then begins to evolve.

There's really no escaping this nightmare. But for Clay, an arrow points home to Maine, and as he and his fellow refugees make their harrowing journey north they begin to see crude signs confirming their direction: KASHWAK=NO-FO. A promise, perhaps. Or a threat...

There are one hundred and ninety-three million cell phones in the United States alone. Who doesn't have one? Stephen King's utterly gripping, gory, and fascinating novel doesn't just ask the question "Can you hear me now?" It answers it with a vengeance.

"What if a pulse sent out through cell phones turned every person using one of them into a zombie-like killing machine? That's what happens on page six of King's latest, a glib, technophobic but compelling look at the end of civilization — or at what may turn into a new, extreme, telepathically enforced fascism. Those who are not on a call at the time of the pulse (and who don't reach for their phones to find out what is going on) remain 'normies.' One such is Clayton Riddell, an illustrator from Kent Pond, Maine, who has just sold some work in Boston when the pulse hits. Clay's single-minded attempt to get back to Maine, where his estranged wife, Sharon, and young son, Johnny-Gee, may or may not have been turned into 'phoners' (as those who have had their brains wiped by the pulse come to be called) comprises the rest of the plot. King's imagining of what is more or less post-Armageddon Boston is rich, and the sociological asides made by his characters along the way — Clay travels at first with two other refugees — are jaunty and witty. The novel's three long set pieces are all pretty gory, but not gratuitously so, and the book holds together in signature King style. Fans will be satisfied and will look forward to the next King release, Lisey's Story, slated for October." Publishers Weekly (Copyright Reed Business Information, Inc.)

"The cell-from-hell premise gives this story an instantly powerful hook. But there are times when the book threatens to become all hook and no fish....[T]his is a traditional King narrative studded with alarming signs of the times." Janet Maslin, The New York Times

"Cell is hard to put down once you've picked it up. There is no shortage of harrowing scenes....While it is a solid, entertaining read, I'm afraid we will need to wait a bit longer for that Great American Zombie Novel." George R. R. Martin, The Washington Post

"A nerve-racking, genuinely unsettling thriller, Cell is proof positive that King has tapped into yet another creative wellspring during a period of life when most writers are often overworking the same dry and dusty literary landscapes." Denver Post

"Cell stumbles because its intent remains unclear. Is this a horror novel? A bit of post-apocalyptic science fiction? A cautionary tale?" Los Angeles Times

"Cell is nowhere near as long, thoughtful, or deeply layered as The Stand....The book is cacophony, without a clear signal." Boston Globe

"King blasts any notion that he's exhausted or dissipated his enormous talent." Booklist

"Cell is a 200-page plot lost inside a 350-page calling area....Too often, Cell rides along on clunky expository dialogue instead of compelling action." The Wall Street Journal

THERE'S A REASON CELL RHYMES WITH HELL.

On October 1, God is in His heaven, the stock market stands at 10,140, most of the planes are on time, and Clayton Riddell, an artist from Maine, is almost bouncing up Boylston Street in Boston. He's just landed a comic book deal that might finally enable him to support his family by making art instead of teaching it. He's already picked up a small (but expensive!) gift for his long-suffering wife, and he knows just what he'll get for his boy Johnny. Why not a little treat for himself? Clay's feeling good about the future.

That changes in a hurry. The cause of the devastation is a phenomenon that will come to be known as The Pulse, and the delivery method is a cell phone. Everyone's cell phone. Clay and the few desperate survivors who join him suddenly find themselves in the pitch-black night of civilization's darkest age, surrounded by chaos, carnage, and a human horde that has been reduced to its basest nature...and then begins to evolve.

There's really no escaping this nightmare. But for Clay, an arrow points home to Maine, and as he and his fellow refugees make their harrowing journey north they begin to see crude signs confirming their direction: KASHWAK=NO-FO. A promise, perhaps. Or a threat...

There are one hundred and ninety-three million cell phones in the United States alone. Who doesn't have one? Stephen King's utterly gripping, gory, and fascinating novel doesn't just ask the question "Can you hear me now?" It answers it with a vengeance.

WHERE WERE YOU ON OCTOBER 1st AT 3:03 P.M.?

Graphic artist Clay Riddell was in the heart of Boston on that brilliant autumn afternoon when hell was unleashed before his eyes. Without warning, carnage and chaos reigned. Ordinary people fell victim to the basest, most animalistic destruction. And the apocalypse began with the ring of a cell phone. . . .

Stephen King is the author of more than forty novels and two hundred short stories. In 2003 he received the National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters.