How to know that this book is by Stephen King:
1: The premise is technically plausible, but insane.
2: The naming of concepts/plot elements is even weirder.
3: The ending comes completley out of left field and is hands-down batshit.
4: There’s a bad guy somewhere with the intitals R.F. He doesn’t fit into this story’s world at all. But he is here, he’s smiling too much, and he’s making everything way worse.
5: Dicks. So many dicks. There are penises every 20 pages or so.
6: Women’s bodies are doing things that women’s bodies do not actually ever do, but this is painted as totally normal and absolutely what every woman’s body does regularly. The weird female body stuff actually distracts you from the story.
7: Why is there a cowboy here? There should not be a cowboy here...
8: Someone is fat. They’re painted as obscenely, grotesquely obese. They might actually only be a few pounds overweight, but it is apparently disgusting. They’re also probably a horrible person.
9: Weasels. If you’ve read enough of King’s books, you know where I’m going here.
10: Somehow, through all of this weird crap I just described, you adore this book and can’t remember the last time you got this invested in a novel. You might cry at the end. You will likely be scouring the library for another book by Stephen King. There are plenty to choose from, at least.