As a devoted Stephen King aficionado for over two decades, I’ve always approached his latest releases with eager anticipation. My journey through his vast bibliography has been a constant source of reading pleasure, even his lesser-praised works usually holding a certain page-turning quality that keeps me hooked. However, “Mr. Mercedes” was a stark departure from this norm. To put it bluntly, this book was a struggle. Finishing it felt like a chore, a first in my long history of reading King’s novels. Where even his weaker stories have held my attention with the promise of unfolding narratives, “Mr. Mercedes” left me indifferent. My perseverance was driven solely by a completist desire to tick it off my King reading list, not by any compelling narrative within its pages. This review is born from deep disappointment, a need to dissect what went wrong in a book that, for me, simply missed the mark. Prepare for a critical breakdown of “Mr. Mercedes,” because even for a die-hard Stephen King fan, this one is a major letdown.
One of Stephen King’s most celebrated strengths is his exceptional ability to craft compelling characters. He typically breathes life into them with remarkable efficiency, establishing deep connections with readers through relatable traits and believable motivations. In just a few lines, King often achieves what many authors struggle to accomplish in entire novels – creating characters that feel genuinely real. This masterful character development is a hallmark of his writing, making readers invested in their journeys and fates.
However, in “Mr. Mercedes,” this crucial element is conspicuously absent. The characters felt strikingly flat, more akin to cardboard cutouts than the richly developed individuals King is known for. They lacked depth, complexity, and any sense of genuine personality. Instead of feeling like real people navigating a suspenseful plot, they came across as mere plot devices, moved mechanically from one scene to the next to push the narrative forward. The nuanced character work that typically draws readers into King’s worlds was replaced by simplistic archetypes, leaving a void where compelling personalities should have been. This fundamental flaw significantly hampered my engagement with the story and contributed heavily to my overall disappointment with “Mr. Mercedes.”
From the outset, the dialogue in “Mr. Mercedes” felt unnatural and forced, a far cry from the realistic and engaging conversations King usually writes. Consider the initial encounter between Augie and Janice, two characters introduced while waiting for a job fair. Presumably both unemployed and seeking work, Augie inexplicably feels the need to explain “downsized” to Janice, defining it as “the twenty-first-century way of saying I got canned.” This explanation feels jarringly out of place. The term “downsized” was common even in the 20th century, and someone seeking employment in today’s world would likely understand its meaning from context, regardless of their age. This clumsy exposition is indicative of a larger issue throughout the book: an overreliance on unnecessary explanation and reiteration of obvious points. “Mr. Mercedes” often lacks subtlety, opting instead for a heavy-handed approach where ambiguity is nonexistent, and characters spell out even the most basic information as if the reader is incapable of inferring anything themselves. This lack of faith in the reader’s intelligence undermines the narrative’s sophistication and contributes to the overall feeling of artificiality in the characters and their interactions.
Janice, presented as a young, single mother in a difficult situation, is another example of underdeveloped characterization. While the narrative seems to aim for empathy, her pronouncements come across as contrived. Her sentiment about needing to apologize to the world and history for having a baby out of wedlock feels exaggerated and melodramatic rather than genuinely poignant. This attempt to make her instantly sympathetic falls flat, instead highlighting the superficiality of the character. Janice and Augie, the first characters introduced, serve primarily as victims to set the stage for the sadistic killer, their roles feeling purely functional rather than emotionally resonant. They are pieces moved into place to evoke a predetermined emotional response from the reader – pity and outrage – rather than organically earning those feelings through depth and believable actions. This manipulative approach to characterization further detracts from the immersive experience typically associated with Stephen King’s novels.
The issue extends to the main cast. Each character felt like a variation of the same template, distinguished only by superficial traits. Janey is defined by her supposed vulnerability, Jerome by his race (repeatedly emphasized), Hodges by his weight, Mr. Mercedes by his cartoonish villainy, and Holly by her mental health struggles. These defining traits become caricatures, overshadowing any potential for nuanced personalities. The dialogue further blurs the lines between characters, with everyone sounding remarkably similar. Their conversations are plagued by excessive oversharing, irrelevant details, and a lack of distinct voice. It’s as if the characters are interchangeable, their dialogue bubbles easily swapped without altering the overall impression.
The incessant over-explanation and irrelevant details in character dialogues become increasingly grating. Simple questions elicit lengthy, rambling responses filled with unnecessary information. A question about car ownership morphs into a detailed monologue about a burgundy Toyota Camry, movie outings, local businesses, and even a random preference for cheese and kumquats. These tangents, intended to flesh out characters, instead come across as nonsensical and brain-numbing, hindering the narrative flow and testing the reader’s patience. This style pervades the entire book, making it feel as though the story was outsourced to someone unfamiliar with King’s signature style, resulting in a disjointed and frustrating reading experience. The sheer volume of pointless chatter and irrelevant details buries any potential for suspense or character development, leaving the reader wading through a swamp of inconsequential information.
The book also grapples with problematic fat-shaming. Hodges’s weight, described as being thirty pounds overweight, is repeatedly presented as a significant flaw, almost a moral failing. Both Hodges and other characters treat this minor weight issue as grotesque and shameful, diminishing his self-worth and making it a central point of self-deprecation. This hyper-focus on a relatively small amount of excess weight feels disproportionate and uncomfortable, especially when framed as a major impediment to his character and relationships. While King has touched on weight issues in previous works, notably in “Thinner,” the constant negative commentary on Hodges’s weight in “Mr. Mercedes” feels excessive and gratuitous. It contributes to an unpleasant and unnecessary layer of body shaming that detracts from the narrative and makes Hodges less sympathetic, despite the apparent intention to portray him as an underdog.
This issue is further highlighted in the awkward and unsettling sex scene between Hodges and Janey. Janey’s concerns about Hodges being on top due to his weight are only the beginning of a bizarre and off-putting encounter. She dictates the entire sexual experience, forbidding him from touching her, talking (except to react to her pronouncements), or moving. Her demands strip him of any agency in the encounter, reducing him to a passive participant in her self-gratification. The scene, intended to depict a strong woman asserting her desires, instead reads as deeply uncomfortable and bordering on non-consensual due to the complete lack of mutuality or consideration for Hodges’s experience. The power dynamic is unsettling, and the portrayal of Janey’s “independence” feels more like control and disregard for her partner’s needs, further alienating the reader from both characters.
Janey’s characterization as an “independent woman” is further undermined by her subsequent behavior. Despite her initial assertiveness in the bedroom, she quickly becomes dependent on Hodges for emotional support and guidance in everyday situations. She leans on him to navigate interactions with her own family and requires constant reassurance, contradicting the image of strength she initially projects. Her independence appears to be performative, quickly dissolving into reliance on Hodges for even minor challenges. This inconsistency in her character makes her less believable and more frustrating, as her actions fail to align with her self-proclaimed strength and independence.
The morning-after dialogue further cements Janey’s unpleasantness. Her intrusive question about Hodges’s cholesterol feels inappropriate and judgmental, especially given their new and casual relationship. This nosy and health-policing behavior is compounded by her passive-aggressive comments about his breakfast choices, mocking his desire for bacon while pushing her own austere diet of “whole wheat toast and air.” Janey’s actions consistently portray her as judgmental and unkind, making her romantic pairing with Hodges baffling and unconvincing. Her constant needling and condescending remarks make it difficult to understand what Hodges sees in her beyond physical availability, further weakening the character dynamics and the overall narrative.
Jerome’s character is marred by stereotypical and jarringly racist dialogue. His constant use of exaggerated, stereotypical slang feels forced and offensive, reducing him to a caricature rather than a fully realized individual. Every instance of this dialogue feels like a painful reminder of outdated and harmful racial stereotypes, making Jerome an uncomfortable and problematic character. Instead of adding depth or authenticity, this dialogue choice undermines his credibility and makes his interactions cringeworthy. It’s a deeply unfortunate and unnecessary element that detracts significantly from the narrative and perpetuates harmful stereotypes.
Holly, initially presented as lacking a distinct personality, eventually morphs into a carbon copy of the other characters, adopting the same oversharing and repetitive dialogue patterns. Her defining characteristic becomes her Lexapro medication, which is mentioned incessantly. Her dialogue is also marked by bizarre repetition, often repeating phrases three times in a row, ostensibly to emphasize her mental health struggles. However, this repetitive speech pattern comes across as cartoonish and disruptive, particularly when she randomly lapses into tantrum-like repetitions. Instead of conveying the complexities of mental illness, it reduces Holly to a caricature, and her constant reminders about her medication feel more like a superficial character trait than a genuine exploration of her inner life. This simplistic portrayal further contributes to the overall flatness of the characters in “Mr. Mercedes.”
Brady, the antagonist, despite being positioned as a menacing figure, ultimately falls flat. His motivations and actions are presented as those of a spoiled, rebellious teenager with unresolved daddy and mommy issues. While he is intended to be frightening due to his anonymity and potential to be anyone, his backstory and psychological profile lack depth and originality. He comes across as a generic, disturbed young man rather than a truly compelling or terrifying villain. The exploration of his psyche feels superficial, relying on clichés and predictable tropes, making him a less impactful antagonist than he could have been. Brady’s lack of complexity diminishes the suspense and threat level of the narrative, contributing to the overall disappointment of “Mr. Mercedes.”
The pop-culture references in “Mr. Mercedes,” typically a charming aspect of King’s writing, feel forced and out of place. While King usually integrates pop culture seamlessly, in this book, the references feel awkwardly inserted, often condescending or inaccurate. The characters’ ages and the overall tone of the book suggest an older target audience, yet the pop culture elements seem aimed at a younger demographic, creating a jarring disconnect. It feels as if there was an attempt to “jazz up” the narrative with trendy references to appeal to a broader audience, but the result is clumsy and inauthentic. The references feel less like organic parts of the characters’ worlds and more like calculated attempts to appear relevant, ultimately falling flat and detracting from the reading experience.
Examples of these missteps include Hodges’s reference to “tramp-stamps” while watching a Jerry Springer-esque show. The term is used incorrectly, demonstrating a lack of understanding of the specific type of tattoo it describes. Similarly, a 62-year-old retired cop using the term “moms” feels unnatural and out of character. The condescending portrayal of women’s understanding of car dashboards, with a character assuming women see dashboard lights as “cute little lights,” is both sexist and jarring. Hodges’s infantilizing term for Holly’s medication, “little white happy-caps,” further exemplifies the condescending and tone-deaf pop culture references throughout the book. These instances highlight a disconnect between the intended audience, the characters’ voices, and the pop culture elements, making them feel forced and detrimental to the narrative.
In conclusion, “Mr. Mercedes” is a significant misstep in Stephen King’s otherwise impressive bibliography. The weak character development, unrealistic dialogue, irritating characters, and forced pop culture references combine to create a deeply disappointing reading experience. Hodges, despite being the protagonist, relies heavily on Holly and Jerome to solve the case, undermining his supposed expertise and the commendations he has received. The plot feels contrived and predictable, lacking the suspense and intricate storytelling that typically define King’s work. Every page of “Mr. Mercedes” seemed to offer a new reason to roll my eyes, leading to an overwhelming sense of frustration and letdown. This book stands out as a significant outlier in King’s body of work, and not in a positive way. For even the most dedicated Stephen King fan, “Mr. Mercedes” is a considerable disappointment.
