WeaveReads

Finishing IT feels like such a personal victory that I’m still kind of floating 24 hours later (haha get it?) I didn’t take notes while reading (like I usually do) partly because I  wanted to let it break my slump naturally, and partly because I’ve hyped this book up to myself for years and I wanted the experience to go smoothly. I took my time, I really lived in Derry while reading it, and even now I feel like I can close my eyes and sketch a map of the town from memory. King’s world-building is unreal; he makes you feel like knowing the pharmacist’s mother’s maiden name is important, like the sidewalks and Barrens are places you’ve walked your whole life.

And somewhere in the middle of cosmic, otherworldly horror… Richie Tozier snatched my heart and refused to give it back. There’s just something about him in the book that hits so much harder than any adaptation. He’s loud and annoying and funny and loyal in a way that feels heartbreakingly human. Finn Wolfhard honestly did a phenomenal job capturing that chaotic sweetness — frankly more on the chaotic side, let’s be real — his Richie is probably the closest anyone has gotten to the version living in my head.

One of the biggest surprises, though, was how deeply the Losers love Bill. The movies don’t portray it half as intensely. In the book, their loyalty to him is bone-deep and completely unquestioning. There was an instant understanding that he was their leader intended to take them to victory, or die trying. Eddie literally thinks about dying for him without hesitation (RIP Kaspbrak). None of them doubt his leadership, not even 27 years later when they’ve forgotten almost everything else. It’s such a beautiful, innocent kind of reverence that only childhood friendships can produce, and reading it genuinely made my heart swell. (This is also one of the only books where I highlighted my favorite quotes.)

Speaking of beautiful: Ben and Beverly. I was not prepared for how soft and sincere Ben’s love would be on the page. It’s not obsessive or dramatic; it’s patient, understanding, accepting, and lifelong. He admires her bravery, he loves her without expecting anything from her, and somehow that persistence feels more romantic than any grand gesture could. It’s sweet in the way in childhood crushes are sweet, but also enduring in a way adult love rarely is.

And then there are the moments where I’m reminded why King is the King — namely the part where Richie and Mike have their vision during the Ritual of Chüd, where they witness the Coming of It. The scale of it, the mythology, that mix of cosmic dread and awe… I genuinely got chills. King has this talent for taking something that shouldn’t be scary, and making it terrifying by the end.

The thing that surprised me most, though, was how nostalgic it made me. Not just for childhood, but for the intensity of childhood friendship, the way those bonds feel fateful and never-ending. The Losers are tied together in a way that feels like spiritual, like destiny, and King writes their connection so well that I genuinely missed being a kid while reading.

I’ve watched the movies for as long as I can remember — Tim Curry’s Pennywise was practically a family member in my childhood home — so reading the book felt like stepping into the “real” version of a story I’ve loved my whole life. I do wish I had taken the time to tab things or jot notes down so I could have done a real, polished review, but honestly? It just gives me even more of a reason to reread it. And if even one person tells me to do a dissertation-level breakdown comparing the miniseries, the Skarsgård movies, and the book, I will absolutely do it, Powerpoint and all.

For now though, finishing IT feels like a major Reading Bucket List item that I’ve just ticked off. I’m proud of myself, I’m out of my slump, and now I can finally get back into my ever-growing TBR list.