Stephen King's the Dark Tower: The Complete Concordance Revised and Updated

by Robin Furth

  Just as in Wizard and Glass, Roland’s encounter with a thinny prompts him to tell his American ka-tet about his coming-of-age test and the trials he faced in Hambry soon after he won his guns, so in The Wind Through the Keyhole, the starkblast which sweeps along the Path of the Beam inspires Roland to recount two interlinked tales. All three narratives—the frame story of Roland’s tet traveling along the path of the Beam, the autobiographical adventure in which Roland and his ka-mate Jamie DeCurry hunt for the skin-man of Debaria, and the folktale about Tim Ross, who discovered that his father had been murdered by his jealous best friend, are all linked by the sound of Mid-World’s winds. But to Roland, the ferocious starkblast is not merely a catalyst for talespinning. That powerful storm is intrinsically bound to his memory of his mother and to his guilt over her death.

  All that Roland knows about starkblasts—from the unseasonable warmth that precedes them to the erratic behavior of bumblers that warns farmers of impending disaster—was passed on to him by Gabrielle. Hence it is not surprising that, at the beginning of the novel, everything that Roland knows about starkblasts has been suppressed, just as his grief and guilt over his matricide has been suppressed. It is not until the ferryman Bix points out the approaching storm’s many warning signs that the door of memory opens and Roland recalls both the autobiographical tale of “The Skin-Man,” which took place shortly after Gabrielle’s passing, and “The Wind Through the Keyhole,” the folktale which his mother often read to him in the tower bedroom of his childhood.

  From the outset of “The Skin-Man,” we know that fifteen-year-old Roland is struggling with an overwhelming grief. Though he has not been back from Hambry for very long, Roland has appointed himself as nurse to his old teacher Cort. Roland claims that he nurses Cort out of respect (after all, Cort never recovered from Roland’s coming-of-age battle against him), but his father suspects a darker motivation. Roland is searching for absolution for his accidental murder of his mother. In order to remove Roland from the unhealthy atmosphere of Gilead, and to try to get the boy to expiate his sense of sin in a more fitting manner, Steven Deschain sends Roland and his ka-mate Jamie DeCurry to Debaria, so that the boys can track down the bloodthirsty skin-man who has been terrorizing that western barony.

  On the way to Debaria, Roland and Jamie stop at Serenity, the women’s retreat where Roland’s mother stayed after her betrayal of her husband and her city. There they not only see the terrible wounds inflicted upon one of the skin-man’s few surviving victims, but they meet the retreat’s prioress, the flamboyant but warm giantess, Everlynne of Serenity. Even this early in the tale, Roland begins to question the view of reality imparted to him by his father and the other gunslingers. After all, Everlynne is not the man-hating vixen that he has been led to believe she would be, but a vivacious, brave, and welcoming woman who maintained her respect for Roland’s dead mother despite her crimes. In fact, she calls our young gunslinger son-of-Gabrielle rather than son-of-Steven, which is the more usual form of address in patriarchal Mid-World.

  Once in Debaria, Roland must once again face the division between his mind and his heart. In order to catch the skin-man, he must play the role of adult gunslinger. This means operating with the intellect and instincts of a hunter, though it goes against the more humane instincts of the boy. Faced with the horrors of the skin-man’s attacks, Roland decides that the only way he will be able to catch the shapeshifting killer is by setting a trap, baited with the only living person to have seen the skin-man in his human form—an eleven-year-old boy named Bill Streeter. Roland’s ka-mate, Jamie DeCurry, is very uncomfortable with Roland’s decision to use Young Bill in this way. As Roland says, “It was a thing [Jamie]’d never have done himself, even if he’d though of it. Which is why my father had put me in charge. Not because I’d done well in Mejis—I hadn’t, not really—and not because I was his son, either. Although in a way, I suppose that was it. My mind was like his: cold.”

  Like any general, Roland-the-gunslinger knows that in war, the innocent are often sacrificed. But the way he describes the reason for his position of leadership is harsh. Though he was the youngest gunslinger ever to win his guns, and though as little more than an adolescent, he had defeated the brutal Big Coffin Hunters of Hambry, Roland does not think it is his bravery or his heroism or his skill that has made Steven Deschain put him in charge of this mission. Gilead’s dinh let him lead the hunt for Debaria’s skin-man because Roland is cold-minded and cold-blooded, just like the best of the tet of the gun.

  But despite the coldness required by his calling, the young Roland tries to keep alive his own humanity. Although Roland puts Young Bill at risk, he tries to minimize that risk. He takes the boy to Debaria’s jail—the most defendable building in the town—and locks the two of them in together. (If the skin-man tries to attack Billy, then Roland will defend the boy with his life.) While in that jail cell, listening to the wailing of the simoom outside, Roland tells Young Bill the story of another young boy—Tim Ross—who like Billy had to face terrible dangers in order to bring his father’s killer to justice. Like Bill Streeter, Tim Ross was of low birth, but because of his bravery he not only became a gunslinger, but became the legendary hero, Tim Stoutheart. It is little wonder then, that in order to screw up his courage and face the skin-man, Young Bill pretends that he is Tim Stoutheart.

  In many ways, The Wind Through the Keyhole is an exploration of how we deal with grief. All of the young protagonists—Roland, Bill Streeter, and Tim Ross—are forced to come to terms with the violent death of a parent. But the novel is not just about grief, it is also about how we react to the unfair vicissitudes of life. Roland has committed a crime, but he must come to accept that the death of his mother was an accident. Bill Streeter’s father was brutally murdered by a shapeshifter who was not a mindless beast, but a human being who took some form of pleasure from his kills. Bill cannot bring his father back to life, but by identifying the killer he can bring some form of closure to the horrors he has faced, and he can also help to prevent future massacres. Similarly, Tim Ross discovers that his father—whom he has been told was incinerated by a dragon—was in truth slaughtered by his partner and best friend, Bern Kells, who coveted Tim’s mother. Tim cannot wind back time any more than he can untie the knot that binds his mother to her violent and drunken new husband, but he can expose his stepfather’s crime and also minimize the impact that Kells has on his own, and his mother’s, life.

  As well as the personal traumas that Roland, Bill, and Tim must face, there are the greater social injustices that echo throughout the three tales. On his way to Debaria, Roland is made uncomfortably aware of how successful his mother’s lover, Marten Broadcloak, has been in turning the people of Mid-World against the gunslingers. (In Debaria, too many people have secretly given their allegiance to the mad harrier, John Farson.) As the adult Roland of the frame story knows, Farson’s destiny is to bring about Mid-World’s second destruction. In Tim Ross’s world, the greedy Covenant Man (who is but another face of Roland’s eternal enemy, Marten Broadcloak/Walter O’Dim) has poisoned the reputation of Gilead by squeezing as much tax as possible out of the people of Tree. Even in the land of fairytale, people whisper that Gilead’s taxes are unfair, and that the people’s covenant with the Eld has been paid a dozen times over, in blood as well as silver. As when he is in his Broadcloak disguise, the Covenanter knows full well that he is destroying the fabric of Mid-World society, but this is exactly what he wants to do. The wastelands that Roland and his American tet traverse are as much the fault of O’Dim as they are the fault of Mid-World’s Old People.

  Although the emotions explored in The Wind Through the Keyhole are dark ones, the novel’s closure is redemptive. Before Roland leaves Debaria, Everlynne of Serenity gives him a note penned by Gabrielle before she left the women’s retreat. Though the letter is as disjointed and distraught as the mind of the woman who had written it, Gabrielle tells her son that she knew she was destined to die by his hand, but return
ed to Gilead anyway. Although Gabrielle has already entered the clearing at the end of the path, from beyond the grave she offers her son absolution. The final words of her letter, written in High Speech, say, I forgive you everything. Can you forgive me? At the end of the novel, Steven King states that the two most beautiful words in any language are I forgive. I must say, I agree. Unless we are able to open our hearts and forgive others, we can never learn to forgive ourselves.

  For all of us who have waited so long for another tale about our favorite wandering gunslinger, The Wind Through the Keyhole is a gift. Thank you, Steve. And thank you, my fellow Constant Readers, for perusing yet another version of my Concordance, this massive book which I regard as my travel log for Mid-World.

  Long days and pleasant nights, and may the sun never fall in your eyes.

  Robin Furth

  August 6, 2012

  ABBREVIATIONS AND TEXT GUIDE

  ABBREVIATIONS USED FOR PRIMARY TEXTS BY STEPHEN KING

  I:

  The Gunslinger. 1982. New York: Plume-Penguin, 1988. The Gunslinger. 2003 (revised edition). New York: Plume-Penguin, 2003. (See Please Note)

  II:

  The Drawing of the Three. 1987. New York: Plume-Penguin, 1989.

  III:

  The Waste Lands. 1991. New York: Plume-Penguin, 1989.

  IV:

  Wizard and Glass. New York: Plume-Penguin, 1997.

  V:

  Wolves of the Calla. New Hampshire: Donald M. Grant in association with Scribner, 2003.

  VI:

  Song of Susannah. New Hampshire: Donald M. Grant in association with Scribner, 2004.

  VII:

  The Dark Tower. New Hampshire: Donald M. Grant in association with Scribner, 2004.

  E:

  “The Little Sisters of Eluria.” Everything’s Eventual: 14 Dark Tales. New York: Scribner, 2002.

  W:

  The Wind Through the Keyhole. New Hampshire: Donald M. Grant in association with Scribner, 2012.

  SECONDARY TEXTS BY STEPHEN KING

  Bag of Bones. New York: Scribner, 1998.

  Desperation. New York: Viking-Penguin, 1996.

  “Everything’s Eventual.” Everything’s Eventual: 14 Dark Tales. New York: Scribner, 2002.

  The Eyes of the Dragon. New York: Viking-Penguin, 1984.

  Insomnia. New York: Viking-Penguin, 1994.

  It. New York: Viking-Penguin, 1986.

  “Low Men in Yellow Coats.” Hearts in Atlantis. New York: Scribner, 1999.

  “The Mist.” Skeleton Crew. New York: Putnam, 1985.

  The Regulators (Stephen King as Richard Bachman). New York: Viking-Penguin, 1996.

  ’Salem’s Lot. New York: Doubleday, 1975.

  The Stand. New York: Doubleday, 1978.

  SECONDARY TEXTS BY STEPHEN KING AND PETER STRAUB

  Black House. New York: Random House, 2001.

  The Talisman. New York: Viking-Penguin, 1984.

  PLEASE NOTE

  1. Stephen King’s The Dark Tower: A Concordance, Volume I went to press before a paginated copy of the new version of The Gunslinger was available. As a result, all Gunslinger page references refer to the original version of the novel. All entries that contain material drawn from the 2003 Gunslinger are marked with a double asterisk (**). In the 2012 updated edition of this Concordance, I have included some page references from the revised 2003 edition of The Gunslinger. These page references are followed by the following: (2003 edition).

  2. Page references are as follows:

  V:199

  (volume):(page number)

  3. Although Mid-World was the name of a specific historical kingdom, Stephen King also uses this term when he needs to refer (in general terms) to Roland’s version of Earth. I have followed this practice.

  4. In Volume I of this Concordance, I often capitalized the term Our World. In the last three books of the series, we find out that there are many, many versions of our world, so I no longer use capitals. However, when I refer specifically to the world in which Stephen King writes his novels (and where I’m fairly certain you and I are reading them), I use the term Keystone Earth.

  5. Constant Readers will notice that the Map of the Beams, located in Appendix VII, has changed so that it can remain consistent with the information imparted in The Wind Through the Keyhole. The Lion Eagle Beam, which passes through the Endless Forest of North’rd Barony, now flows north-south.

  Commala, come-come,

  Journey’s almost done . . .

  GILEAD FAIR-DAYS

  WINTER

  WIDE EARTH

  Riddling

  SOWING

  (**New Earth)

  (**Fresh Commala)

  The Sowing Night Cotillion

  called Commala

  a courting rite dance

  celebrating spring

  MID-SUMMER

  FULL EARTH

  Riddling

  Full Earth babies born

  REAPING

  Charyou Tree and burning of stuffy-guys,

  Reaping lass and Reaping lad, Reap charms.

  In the Outer Arc, a prize is given on Reap Day to the person or group

  that collects the greatest number of rattlesnake skins.

  Children planted on Reap come due on Full Earth.

  This is the true Year’s End.

  Reap kisses

  Orgy of Reap

  Propitiating old gods

  Reap Morn: First day of Winter

  YEAR’S END

  MID-WORLD MOONS

  KISSING MOON

  A perfect disk of silver

  Moon of Romance

  Shadows of lovers

  On its bright skin

  PEDDLER’S MOON

  Late-summer moon

  Huge and orange

  And the Peddler, who comes out of the Nones

  With his sack of squealing souls

  HUNTRESS MOON

  Last moon of summer, first moon of autumn

  Picking apples, cutting hay

  Snakes and scorpions wander east from the desert

  Day moon

  The huntress fills her belly

  And becomes

  A pallid, vampire woman

  Season of Reap

  The beginning of endings

  Clearer and clearer on each starry night

  The Huntress pulls back her bow

  DEMON MOON

  Blood red

  Death moon

  Closing of the year

  Blade nose

  Bone grin

  Reap’s scythe

  Above

  He grins and winks

  Though a scarlet

  Shifting

  Scrim

  INTRODUCTION PART ONE

  VOLUMES I–IV

  ROLAND, THE TOWER, AND THE QUEST

  Spoiler’s Warning: Read this essay only after you have read the first four books of Roland’s saga. Otherwise, you’ll get more than a glimpse of what is to come . . .

  To any reader of the Dark Tower series, Roland Deschain is an instantly recognizable character. As I write this, I see him in my mind’s eye, striding across the yellowing grasses of the River Barony savannah, his black hair threaded with gray, his body tall and lanky, his holster and gun belt strapped to his hips. Only one of those fabled sandalwood-handled six-shooters is with him; it rests against his left thigh. The other is back at camp, secure in the docker’s clutch strapped to Eddie Dean’s side. As I stare, Roland turns his head and regards me pragmatically. If you need to talk to me, he says, then come. Time may be a face on the water, but in Roland’s world, water is scarce.

  Roland watches as I pass through the doorway of the page. His pale blue eyes really are like those of a bombardier, both cool and assessing. By necessity, this meeting will be brief. I’m another one of Roland’s secrets, and he thinks it better to keep me that way. He’s not certain what level of the Tower I come from, but he knows one thing. I am mapping his travels.

  Finding so
me shade, Roland hunkers. I hand him one of the rolling papers I’ve brought, and he accepts it silently. Unlacing the leather thongs of his traveling purse, he removes his tobacco poke and rolls a smoke. Despite the missing fingers on his right hand, he works the paper dexterously, licking the gummed side with a grimace. He strikes a match against the seam of his jeans and lights his cigarette. For a moment his face is illuminated with an eerie glow that makes his features look drawn and more than a little haggard. He has a few days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks, and his lips are chapped. Once again I try to show him this concordance, but he waves the bound manuscript away as he exhales a cloud of smoke. As always, he thinks that my constant revisions waste paper. Besides, he’s only interested in the maps. But today I’ve brought a short piece, and this he has agreed to hear. It’s my interpretation of his epic journey. Taking another deep drag, Roland rolls his hand in that gesture which means only one thing, in any world. Get on with it. So I clear my throat and (rather nervously) begin.