Tony's Review of The Shining

The Shining is one of Stephen King's most enduring works, and for good reason. It is a haunted house story, yes, but also a slow burn about isolation, addiction, mental decay, and the horrors we carry inside ourselves. At the center is the Overlook Hotel, a place that does not just contain evil it feeds on it.

The novel follows Jack Torrance, a struggling writer and recovering alcoholic who takes a job as the winter caretaker of the Overlook. He brings his wife Wendy and their son Danny, a child gifted or cursed with "the shining," a psychic ability that allows him to see into the past, and sometimes the future. As the snow traps them in and the hotel’s past begins to stir, the real enemy becomes clear: Jack is not just falling under the hotel’s influence. He is breaking apart under the weight of his own unresolved rage and guilt.

Unlike the film adaptation directed by Stanley Kubrick, which stripped away much of Jack’s humanity and backstory, the novel gives us a man trying and failing to be better. That is one of the major differences. In the book, Jack is a tragic figure, not just a monster. You see his inner conflict. You watch the slow unraveling. The hotel does not just possess him it exploits what is already broken.

King has been vocal about his dislike of the film, and it is not hard to understand why. Kubrick’s version is cold, clinical, and distant. Beautifully shot, yes. But it trades emotional depth for eerie detachment. Wendy becomes more of a victim, Jack more of a villain, and Danny more of a prop. The supernatural elements are downplayed. The tragedy is removed. King wanted a story about a man battling his demons, both supernatural and personal. Kubrick gave the world a story about inevitable madness.

The novel also has a more mythic sense of the Overlook itself. This place is not just haunted it is alive in some way. It remembers. It wants. And that presence is most clearly seen through Danny’s eyes. His gift gives us a fuller view of the horror. The spirits here are not just echoes—they are players in a larger, cruel drama.

King was inspired to write The Shining after staying at The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. He and his wife were the only guests on the final night of the season. The eerie silence of the halls, the deserted dining room, and the overwhelming sense of isolation left an impression. That moment—standing in a place suspended between seasons—planted the seed for the Overlook.

Though the fictional hotel is not a direct copy of the Stanley, the spirit of it lingers on every page.

As a novel, The Shining holds up. It is one of King’s more tightly written works, with a strong internal structure and deeply drawn characters. Jack’s descent is heartbreaking. Wendy’s strength is real, even when fear threatens to overwhelm her. And Danny caught between two broken parents and the crushing weight of his psychic gift is one of King’s most sympathetic child characters. Which is likely why was got Doctor Sleep a squeal to this book.

There are moments when the prose leans into melodrama, and the pacing, especially early on, can feel slow for readers expecting constant action. But that build-up is what makes the final act land with such force. This is not a book about jump scares. It is a book about slow corrosion.

The Shining is a horror novel that asks real question about violence, about family, about the kind of ghosts we carry with us. It is not perfect, but it is personal, and that gives it staying power. The film may be more iconic in pop culture, but the book remains the more human story.