"There on a bench in the shade sits a man in black jeans, a black coat, and a white shirt unbuttoned at the top."
I was maybe twenty minutes into this at 2 AM, couldn't sleep because my thesis proposal is due next week and my brain decided that was the perfect time to spiral. So naturally, I grabbed the shortest thing in my queue. A King novella about a mysterious stranger and a box with buttons? Yeah, that'll quiet the anxiety. (Narrator: it did not quiet the anxiety.)
But here's the thing—it *did* work, just not how I expected.
The Magic System Is... Wait, Is This Even Fantasy?
Okay, so the button box. It's giving major D&D artifact vibes. You've got these buttons that correspond to different continents, and pressing them causes... things to happen. Bad things. Catastrophic things. There's a lever that dispenses chocolate and tiny animal figures that grant good fortune. And then there are the other buttons. The ones that make you powerful. The ones that whisper.
This isn't Sanderson-level hard magic with rules you can diagram on a whiteboard. It's old-school King weird—the magic system is basically "here's immense power, kid, try not to destroy everything." And honestly? That's the point. Red Rising explores that same tension between power and responsibility, though Darrow's got a bit more than a button box to worry about. Gwendy's twelve. She's climbing the Suicide Stairs every day to lose weight because kids are cruel and she wants to be different. Then this man in black (not THAT Man in Black, but also... maybe?) hands her a box that could level countries.
The progression is satisfying in a coming-of-age way rather than a power-scaling way. Gwendy gets better at resisting the box's pull, at understanding the weight of what she's carrying. It's not about leveling up—it's about not pressing the button.
Maggie Siff Walked So Gwendy Could Run
I knew Siff from Sons of Anarchy and Billions, but this is my first time with her as a narrator. Her Gwendy has this nostalgic quality that hit me right in the childhood. There's insecurity there, the specific kind of twelve-year-old insecurity where you're convinced everyone's watching you fail. When she voices the man in black—Farris—there's this blandly pleasant tone that somehow carries genuine menace underneath. Like your friend's dad who's a little too nice and you can't explain why he makes you uncomfortable.
The bonus story, "The Music Room," is where she really gets to flex. Suddenly we're in highfalutin accent territory with this deliciously wicked black humor. It's a tonal whiplash from the main novella, but Siff handles the transition like she's been waiting for permission to get weird.
At 2.5 Hours, This Is a D&D One-Shot, Not a Campaign
Let's be real about the length. This is a novella. You're getting a tight, focused story that knows exactly what it wants to do and does it. Some folks in my audiobook groups complained it felt incomplete, and I get that—there's definitely a "wait, that's it?" moment at the end. But King and Chizmar aren't trying to give you an epic here. They're giving you a fable. A creepy, nostalgic, surprisingly tender fable about power and choice and growing up in small-town Maine.
The bonus story confused some listeners who thought it was a continuation. It's not. "The Music Room" is its own separate thing—King's Edgar Award-nominated short story about a very different kind of horror. Think of it as a palate cleanser. A weird, darkly funny palate cleanser.
Who Gets the Box (And Who Shouldn't Touch It)
If you need 40-hour epics with detailed world-building and complex political intrigue—skip this one. Come back when you want something short.
But if you're a King completionist who hasn't done the Gwendy trilogy yet? Start here. If you want something you can finish in a single insomniac night? Perfect. If you're nostalgic for the kind of "kid gets mysterious object" stories we grew up on but want it filtered through King's particular brand of darkness? Chef's kiss.
My D&D group would absolutely use this as inspiration for a cursed artifact. I'm already drafting the item description in my head. "Button Box of Continental Devastation. Attunement required. Wisdom save DC 18 or become obsessed with pressing the red buttons..."
Roll for Initiative (Or Just Press Play)
Look, I didn't write any thesis pages tonight. But I did finish a King novella, discover that Maggie Siff is a genuinely excellent narrator, and get a solid short story as a bonus. That's a win in my book.
Is it essential King? No. Is it a perfectly crafted little horror bonbon that respects your time and delivers exactly what it promises? Absolutely. Sometimes you don't need the Stormlight Archive. Sometimes you need a mysterious man on a bench and a box full of terrible choices.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a thesis to continue ignoring.
