As a devoted Stephen King reader for over two decades, I approach each new release with a blend of excitement and high expectations. King has, time and again, proven his mastery of character development, suspenseful storytelling, and the uncanny ability to tap into the darkest corners of the human psyche. However, with “Mister Mercedes,” I encountered something truly unexpected: profound disappointment. Frankly, finishing this book felt like a chore, a stark contrast to the page-turning compulsion I usually associate with King’s work. Even his lesser novels have held a certain grip, a narrative pull that kept me invested. But “Mister Mercedes”? It was a struggle, fueled only by a completionist’s desire to tick another King book off the list. This isn’t the review I wanted to write, but honesty compels me to call it as I see it: “Mister Mercedes” is, regrettably, a misstep.
Character Catastrophes: Flatness and Stereotypes Abound
Stephen King’s hallmark has always been his characters. He crafts individuals who feel real, flawed, and relatable, often with remarkable efficiency. He can sketch a convincing character in a few lines where other authors need chapters. “Mister Mercedes,” however, abandons this strength entirely. The characters feel less like people and more like cardboard cutouts, devoid of depth and originality. They are pieces moved across a plot board, serving only to advance the narrative from point A to B, and rarely even managing that with any nuance.
From the outset, the dialogue feels forced and unnatural. Consider Augie and Janice, introduced as they camp out for a job fair. In an early exchange, Augie awkwardly explains “downsized” to Janice, defining it as “the twenty-first-century way of saying I got canned.” This clunky exposition feels insulting to the reader’s intelligence. Even if Janice is young, the context of a job fair for unemployed individuals makes the meaning of “downsized” abundantly clear. This heavy-handedness pervades the entire book, with characters constantly over-explaining the obvious, leaving no room for subtlety or reader interpretation. It’s as if King traded his usual finesse for a blunt instrument.
Janice, another early character, is presented as a young, single mother meant to evoke sympathy. Yet, her dialogue and motivations feel contrived. Her pronouncements about apologizing to the world for having a baby out of wedlock come across as melodramatic and unbelievable, designed to manipulate reader emotions rather than create a genuine connection. These initial characters serve merely as disposable victims, engineered to trigger empathy and set the stage for the hunt for the titular “Mister Mercedes,” the sadistic killer.
The character issues extend far beyond these initial figures. Every character seems to echo the same voice, differentiated only by superficial labels. Janey is the blonde, Jerome is “the black one” who is also smart, Bill Hodges is the overweight ex-cop, Brady Hartsfield is the brooding villain, and Holly Gibney is the quirky, medicated one. These are not characters; they are caricatures. Their dialogue bubbles could be swapped without consequence, highlighting their lack of distinct personalities. The constant need for characters to reiterate their names and preferred nicknames further emphasizes this artificiality, creating a forced sense of intimacy that never feels authentic.
The incessant oversharing adds another layer of irritation. Characters respond to simple questions with rambling, irrelevant tangents, as if afflicted with a verbal diarrhea. A simple “Do you have a safe?” becomes a monologue about banking habits. A question about a car devolves into a laundry list of mundane details about nearby businesses and personal preferences. This relentless exposition grinds the narrative to a halt and tests the reader’s patience, making one wonder if King outsourced the writing to someone utterly unfamiliar with the concept of concise dialogue.
Fat-Shaming and Sexism: Uncomfortable and Unnecessary
Beyond the character flaws, “Mister Mercedes” stumbles into problematic territory with its portrayal of body image and gender dynamics. The constant fat-shaming directed at Bill Hodges is jarring and uncomfortable. Described as only 30 pounds overweight, Hodges and nearly every other character treat his weight as a grotesque affliction, a sign of personal failing and diminished worth. The narrative dwells on his weight to an excessive degree, implying it’s a debilitating burden rather than a relatively minor health concern. This relentless focus on Hodges’s weight feels less like character development and more like gratuitous fat-shaming, echoing similar, albeit less pronounced, issues in King’s past work like “Thinner.”
The problematic portrayal extends to the sexual dynamics between Hodges and Janey. The sex scene is bizarre and off-putting, with Janey dictating a disturbingly passive role for Hodges, effectively excluding him from any meaningful participation. Her demands border on non-consensual, yet the narrative frames it as empowering and “strong.” This is not a portrayal of a strong, independent woman; it’s a depiction of someone who seems to view sex as a purely self-serving act, devoid of intimacy or mutual enjoyment.
Janey’s post-coital question, “How’s your cholesterol?” is particularly egregious. It’s not presented as genuine concern but as a thinly veiled, judgmental jab at Hodges’s weight, delivered with a condescending and unpleasant tone. Her subsequent breakfast offering of “whole wheat toast and air” further reinforces this mean-spiritedness. Janey comes across as judgmental and unkind, making Hodges’s attraction to her baffling, save for the shallow explanation that “she lets me put it in.”
Jerome’s characterization also veers into uncomfortable territory with his stereotypical and jarring shifts into what the reviewer describes as “slave-jive.” These moments are not only stereotypical but actively offensive, making Jerome a caricature rather than a fully realized character.
Holly Gibney, initially bland, eventually succumbs to the same monotonous voice as the other characters. Her defining trait becomes her Lexapro use, constantly reiterated to the point of parody. Her sudden regressions into childish tantrums, repeating phrases three times, feel forced and unbelievable, more like a caricature of mental illness than a nuanced portrayal.
Brady Hartsfield, the titular “Mister Mercedes,” despite being the antagonist, is surprisingly underdeveloped. He comes across as a stereotypical spoiled teenager, driven by generic “daddy issues” and a vague “fuck the world” rebellion. He lacks the chilling depth and complexity that King usually brings to his villains.
Pop Culture Mishaps: Outdated and Misused References
Stephen King’s use of pop culture references has often been a strength, grounding his stories in a relatable reality and creating a sense of shared experience with his readers. In “Mister Mercedes,” however, these references feel forced, dated, and often misused, undermining the narrative rather than enhancing it.
The references feel particularly jarring given the characters’ ages and the overall tone of the book. While the target audience might lean older, the pop culture touchstones feel like a clumsy attempt to appeal to a younger demographic, resulting in a condescending and inauthentic feel.
Hodges, a 62-year-old retired cop, using terms like “moms” feels utterly out of character and tonally inappropriate. The dialogue attributed to him regarding car dashboards and “cute little lights” is not only condescending towards women but also relies on outdated and sexist stereotypes. Similarly, referring to Holly’s medication as “little white happy-caps” trivializes her mental health and reinforces harmful stigmas.
Plot and Pacing Failures: Unearned Accolades
The narrative structure and pacing of “Mister Mercedes” further contribute to its shortcomings. Hodges, despite being lauded for his investigative prowess, comes across as largely incompetent, relying heavily on the insights and actions of Holly and Jerome to solve the case. His investigative methods are often based on hunches and intuition rather than sound reasoning or evidence, making his eventual success feel unearned and contrived.
The plot relies on convenient coincidences and plot devices, such as Hodges’s partner always being conveniently busy whenever he needs assistance related to the “Mister Mercedes” case. These contrivances undermine the suspense and believability of the narrative, making the entire investigation feel less like a compelling mystery and more like a series of fortunate accidents.
Conclusion: A King-Sized Disappointment
“Mister Mercedes” is, for this long-time Stephen King fan, a significant disappointment. The flat characters, stilted dialogue, problematic themes, misused pop culture references, and weak plot all contribute to a reading experience that is far below King’s usual standards. Instead of the gripping, character-driven thriller one expects from King, “Mister Mercedes” delivers a tedious and frustrating narrative populated by cardboard figures and riddled with clichés. This book, regrettably, feels like a major misstep in King’s otherwise impressive bibliography.
