Joe Hill, born Joseph Hillstrom King in 1972, has become a powerful and original voice in modern horror and dark fantasy, building his reputation on merit by publishing under a pen name to avoid comparisons to his famous parents, Stephen and Tabitha King. His debut collection 20th Century Ghosts won major awards and showcased his impressive range, while his first novel Heart-Shaped Box established him as a bestselling storyteller with a unique voice. My own introduction to Hill came through NOS4A2—a gripping, imaginative novel I devoured in a single day and later revisited, and one that was adapted into a TV series starring the excellent Zachary Quinto. Hill’s works like Horns, NOS4A2, and The Fireman blend rich world-building, mythic imagination, and emotionally resonant themes, while his acclaimed comic series Locke & Key further demonstrates his versatility and creativity. Across all his writing, Hill’s dedication to character stands out, crafting flawed, deeply human protagonists who make his blend of horror and fantasy unforgettable. Today, he is recognized not as “Stephen King’s son,” but as a literary force in his own right—bold, inventive, and one of the most compelling genre writers of his generation.
At its core, King Sorrow is a dark, sprawling epic. The story begins with a small group of young friends—including the bookish student Arthur Oakes and his friends—who, under intense pressure and desperate to help Arthur’s locked-up mother, resort to blackmail: they are forced to steal rare books from their college library.
In panic and desperation, they turn to occult magic: performing a ritual with a mysterious journal (yes, bound in human skin) to summon a dragon-like being called King Sorrow, hoping to use him for revenge. But, of course, the deal becomes horrifying: King Sorrow doesn’t just grant a one-time favor—he demands a yearly human sacrifice. That crucial decision sets the group, and the rest of their lives, on a dark, terrifying, and morally complex path. From there, the novel spans decades: friendships are tested, characters evolve — some for the better, some irrevocably worse — and the consequences of the pact ripple through years of anguish, guilt, grief, and attempts at redemption.
One of the novel’s greatest strengths is how compelling the characters are. Hill sketches six individuals with unique voices, fears, flaws, and ambitions — we care about them, which makes the stakes feel real when the supernatural horror arrives. The genre-blending is another advantage. King Sorrow combines dark academia, occult horror, sword-and-sorcery fantasy, and decades-long psychological drama — an ambitious mix that few modern horror novels dare to attempt. Moreover, Hill balances horror with moments of brutal beauty: his prose doesn’t just scare — it explores loyalty, sacrifice, guilt, and the cost of making deals with forces beyond human understanding.
Several reviewers even argue that this might be Hill’s best work yet: richly layered, emotionally powerful, epic in scope, and narratively daring, and I tend to agree.
But King Sorrow isn’t perfect. Its biggest challenge—and one many readers mention—is its large size and ambitious scope. At nearly 900 pages, the novel can sometimes feel overwhelming. There are sections—especially in the middle—that slow down the pace, focusing on reflection, character introspection, or moral questioning rather than the tight pacing, horror, or suspense fans might expect.
If you’re a high-speed audio junkie, the length isn’t an issue, and you can finish the novel in a single day.
If you go to King Sorrow expecting a quick, page-turning horror movie, you might be disappointed. But if you are willing to commit to its broad scope — to ride the waves of decades, trauma, moral doubt, and pure horror — the reward is immense. The book doesn’t just scare; it lingers with you, forcing you to confront the consequences of desperate choices, the weight of power, and the unbreakable bonds of friendship and guilt.
For me, King Sorrow stands out as a significant modern horror novel: ambitious, emotionally intense, genre-defying, and truly unforgettable. If you enjoy horror that aims to say something about humanity — not just to scare — this is a book worth your time.
Thanks for joining the Writer’s Review,
Greg J. Gardner