| Perhaps no one has inspired more nightmares in the past half century than Stephen King. (No one outside the world of politics, at least.) Next year marks the fiftieth anniversary of “Carrie,” King’s breakthrough tale of a bullied Maine teen-ager who exacts telekinetic revenge at the prom. The novel wasn’t King’s début, but it was the first to demonstrate his nearly unmatched commercial appeal. By the time the New Yorker writer Mark Singer profiled King for the magazine, in 1998, the novelist had sold three hundred million books, in thirty-three languages. So extensive was his catalogue of best-sellers that, reading Singer’s article, you barely register the absence of a title as big as “It.” Though King remains best known for horror novels, his own life at times reads like a fairy tale. Raised by a single mother who struggled to make ends meet, King lifted her out of poverty with the success of his early works. After going to college on a scholarship, he later gave millions to boost the school’s financial aid. But he also acknowledges his struggles to Singer, including alcohol and cocaine abuse—and his role in blowing up a contract negotiation that became a P.R. fiasco. King reveals that he intends to let one of his early books go out of print, not because of personal wrongdoing but because the horrifying plot turned out to be prescient. Still, the true mark of his literary power might best be reflected by the response of his readers. One of King’s personal assistants tells Singer, “A lot of fan mail isn’t fan mail at all but people sending religious pamphlets and letters with no return address, alerting Steve that they’re praying for his soul.” | 
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