When the Lord comes to His righteous judgment, He will ask me, "Why did you kill one of my real miracles?" What will I tell Him? That it was my work?
What would you say if you were a senior prison guard in Special Sector G, where convicts are sent to die? How would you feel about putting your hand on the switch that feeds the current from the transformer to the electric chair? Would you tremble at the voice saying, "Let's go to two"?
In the fall of 1971, Stephen began teaching English at Hampden Academy, the public high school in Hampden, Maine. Writing in the evenings and on the weekends, he continued to produce short stories and to work on novels.
Tom Hanks, I'm sorry, Paul Edgecombe has lived enough and escorted many prisoners on their final journey down the Green Mile, the corridor of death, but even remembering the terrible crimes committed by his charges, he wondered if such punishment was right, if people had the right to take each other's lives? No, Paul is not a wimp at all, and he is not visited by unhealthy ideas about giving amnesty to everyone indiscriminately, but as the man responsible for the preparation and execution of the executions, he is not bad, not bad at all.
Men like Paul Edgecombe are the last chance for death row inmates to repent, to reconcile themselves to retribution, and to spend the short days or weeks with dignity, without causing unnecessary trouble, and in return to receive human treatment. Not much at first glance, but it's unlikely to be understood by anyone who can get out of Sector G any other way than in a coffin.
Stephen King introduces us to the guards, their families, the prisoners and several other professions. And he begins the action, traditionally, with the end - through the handwritten memoirs of the protagonist Paul Edgecomb, a not badly preserved old man living out his days in an Alabama nursing home.
What we have before us is a very King-esque piece of work, with some of its nasty negative characters, some of whom cannot squeeze out even a gram of pity, others might have been lucky if it had not been for the realization that they themselves are to blame for everything from the first to the last step. The moderately positive heroes do not look like supermen, and not to stain the honor of the uniform is not the highest goal in the world for them. Just humane guys with their own notions of justice, duty and friendship, and anyone could have been in their shoes.
Most of the prisoners are such dark horses, about whom we do not know very much, and although we are aware that they are killers, but we cannot seriously hate them, because they do not look like criminals, but rather feel like victims. And here a trap awaits us, because even in life many criminals look quite innocent and on occasion can put a veil over their eyes, punch a hole in their defenses and beg for sympathy and participation. But before, or after, they do their dirty deeds, burning, stabbing, throwing out of windows, drowning, destroying lives.
It would be easier if villains always looked and acted like villains, like Percy Whitmore, a small-minded pervert and sadist, covering himself with daddy connections, like Billy the Kid, killing and raping everything in sight. But why does Stephen King show us Edouard Delacroix, battered and defenseless? And the imperturbable Leader, who doesn't lose face until the very end? Probably to create doubts, to test us.
But everything changes with the appearance of John Coffey, the giant who murdered and raped two little girls, a man of no trouble, afraid of the dark and shedding tears for days and nights on end. Is it possible to forgive a monster, even a repentant one? But how do you deal with a man who looks and talks like a big baby? Does he realize his crime? Does he understand what awaits him?
How the reader will treat the tragedy unfolding before his eyes, depends entirely on him. Stephen King can give food for thought, cause disgust, hurt and pity. This is not to take away from it, psychologist King knows how to create atmosphere, knows how to humanize both fears and hopes. And we are left to think, look at the text and the story through a magnifying glass, to draw conclusions.
The book is primarily about justice, both judicial and human. There are hints of divine providence in certain scenes. Here we have the full gamut of the young lawman: racist prejudice, hasty trials, a jury trial with insufficient evidence, the impossibility of reopening a trial because of some bureaucratic difficulties and the particular personalities of those in power, the violence and abuse of prisoners.
In addition, there are also more familiar themes - touching love, friendship, small and large wonders, light mysticism, inexplicable hostility and meditations on philosophical matter (just a little bit). And it's all seasoned with King's signature language that will lure, draw and not let go until the last page. And those who have read "Escape from Shawshank" or "Misery" will know that King knows how to be poignant and gripping without all the clowns and monsters. It's not a sin to admit that this book made me shed a stingy man's tear a few times, there were such moments, it's not for me to recount them.
"The Green Mile" teaches us that we are all cursed and deserve to die, there are no exceptions, only the road remains, for some a short one, and for some that mile will seem too long. Evil finds its retribution, not always so and not always when it is expected. But "good never goes unpunished. A sad truth according to Stephen King, we have no one to rely on but ourselves, we should be able to take a hit, accept losses and move forward. There is too much evil and pain in the world.
So God allows it to happen, and when we say, "I don't understand," God answers: "I don't care."
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